His Curvy Beauty by Lana Love

Chapter 8

Trevor

Reginald, bro. I’m sorry, but I’m out. I’ve already talked to Coach Freeman. I don’t want to be crippled for life – and if I keep playing, my knee is going to go out and that’s exactly what’s going to happen. It’s not public yet, but I’m retiring. It’s not a publicity stunt, not like Josiah pulled two years ago.”

“Man… We need our captain back. You’re the glue that holds us together. We’re getting our asses handed to us. Even the Royals beat us this year.” I can hear the frustration and disappointment in my former teammate’s voice. The Austin Blues have been hurting this year, since our old coach packed up and went to another team.

“I’m sorry you guys have it rough this year, really. But I’m not kidding about retiring.”

Reginald’s laugh is sharp and fast. “You seriously think you’re going to be happy with life in a small town? I can keep the door open a little while longer, but don’t wait too long…”

“You know the flashy lifestyle was never really for me. Not saying it’s not fun and seductive, but it’s not a long-term thing for me. Coaching high school football is where my future is – my school was great when I was there and I want to take them to state again, this time as their coach. I want to give back to the school that gave me my start.”

“You’re a better man than I am, Trevor. Look, I gotta run. Esme’s nearly here and we have to bust ass to get out to her mom’s.”

“Yeah, I gotta jet, too. I got a Christmas ham to bake.”

“Dude. You’re cooking? What’s her name?”

I smile as I think of Mandy. It’s useless to pretend I don’t love my best friend’s sister.

“Mandy. And it’s for her brother, too. Idiot dislocated his shoulder. I’m just the fill-in cook.”

“Don’t try to downplay it. I know how you are about cooking – you don’t just do that for anyone. You only cook for family. They must be important.”

“True. I’m known Mandy and Jimmy since I was six.”

Reginald’s deep voice booms in laughter, and then he lets out a long, low whistle.

“This is the girl that got away, isn’t it? Don’t think I’ve forgotten you mentioning her.”

“Yeah, that’s her. Not sure how it’s going, because everything stops before it starts or she’s mad at me.”

“The madder she is, the more she cares. Look at me and Esme.”

I laugh. Reginald’s wife is a spitfire. At barely five feet, she has Reginald and all two-hundred-sixty pounds of his muscle under control. Reginald may be one of the superstars of the Austin Blues, but she leads their marriage.

“Yeah, something tells me Mandy and Esme would get on like a house on fire.”

A car horn bleats three times and I can hear Reginald huffing as he walks through the winter air.

“Look. You figure it out. You’ve won three Superbowl rings – you can figure out the plays for this girl. I’ll bet my ring on it.”

I sure hope so. I’m ready to bet everything on Mandy.

“As much asyou may think I’m a dumb jock, let me show you what I can do in the kitchen.”

I turn and smile at Mandy, but she’s leaning against the back door, arms across her deliciously plump chest, her eyebrow raised at me.

“I don’t know how you think you can cook better than I can,” she finally says, going to the sink and washing her hands, then pushing up her sleeves. My eyes lock on her full breasts and how they shift under the thin fabric of her blouse as she pulls her hair up into a bun.

“Mandy, you know I adore you,” I raise my eyes and focus on her brilliant blue eyes. “But you can’t cook and we know it. Everyone knows it.”

Mandy’s cheeks color, but she doesn’t look away.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t learn.” Her voice is defensive, but she’s not retreating. Good. I can work with this. I love that she’s willing to try and learn, instead of doubling down in stubbornness.

“I’m glad to hear that. What we’re going to do isn’t too complicated, not like French cooking, but we do have to get it right.”

“Uh huh.”

I watch her eyes rake up and down my body, lingering over the apron I’ve wrapped around my waist. “Do you want an apron? It’ll protect that pretty blouse of yours.” Though if she got something on her blouse and I had to take it off…

Mandy makes short work of chopping the vegetables I stack in front of her. The carrot matchsticks are a little uneven, but it doesn’t matter at all.

Wiping my hands on my apron, I go to the fridge and pull out some potatoes.

“Okay. These need to be peeled and then sliced into rounds. Sound good?”

“Sure.”

I slice up several onions, then turn my attention back to Mandy. She’s focused on the potatoes and she’s doing an excellent job. My guess is that she’s just never cooked much, not that she has no skill for cooking.

“All done,” she says, looking up at me, a smile on her face.

“Those are perfect.” This is not a lie. The more she helps me, the more I see her relaxing and looking confident. “Now let’s trim up some more of the vegetables, and then—”

Mandy’s forehead creases as she interrupts me. “What’s with all the vegetables? Was buying meat a diversion? Are you secretly a vegetarian?”

“Oh, Mandy. Honey. No.” I laugh loudly, wiping my eyes and then instantly regretting it as tears stream from my eyes, thanks to onion juice I forgot to wash from my hands.

“I didn’t think it was that funny.”

I squint at Mandy and I can see she’s closing in on herself again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I couldn’t maintain this,” I say, gesturing down toward my body, puffing out my chest a little when Mandy’s eyes follow my hands and linger on my body, “if I didn’t eat meat. You’d be hard-pressed to find a vegetarian football player – one, the guys just aren’t like that; and two, it would be too hard to get all the protein we need.”

“Thanks.” Mandy’s smile is thin, but at least she’s still here. “I suppose I see what you’re saying.”

“Alright. Let’s get everything ready for the salad, and then we should be good to go. The rest we can take care of in the morning.”

I move to where Mandy is at the counter and stand beside her, and we both start chopping. I have her chopping bread into squares, to bake into croutons.

God. This is what I want, right here. Mandy and I, side by side, working and living and loving together.

A familiar twitch and tightening hits my groin and I cough.

“That’s it for now. Beer?”

“That sounds amazing. Yes, please.”

I grab two beers from the fridge, then we head into the living room. For once, I’m glad that Jimmy isn’t here, but upstairs resting.

“What was this talk of you moving home?” I ask as I watch Mandy settle onto the opposite end of the couch. A primal instinct has me wanting to reach out and pull her close to me, but I know that would be the wrong move with her.

Mandy sighs and peels the edge of the label on the beer bottle she’s holding.

“It’s been tough in Seattle. I miss my friends here and I miss my brother. It’s going to sound quaint, so don’t laugh,” she says, giving me a long, narrow-eyed look of warning, “but I miss life in a smaller town. I want a family of my own and I’m not sure I want to do that in Seattle. I don’t want to have to worry about my kids going outside to play.”

“I know what you mean,” I say, taking a long drink of my beer. “I’ve wanted to move home for a long time, too.”

Mandy’s laugh is full and rich, and it makes me want to make her laugh every hour of every day.

“Yeah, right. You’re just trying to charm me again. I don’t believe a word of it.” The smile Mandy gives me, full of playfulness and affection, it goes straight to my heart. “Who would give up the career that you fought so hard for? I remember how you worked your ass off in high school. Playing pro ball isn’t something someone just gives up.”

“Maybe I am trying to charm you…” I say, ignoring the fact that she’s wrong. I’m leaving the Blues and coming home. I move closer to her on the couch and smile when she shivers as I run my fingers down her arm. “Maybe I’m trying to match your flirting game.”

“What flirting game?” Mandy asks, her voice suddenly quieter and breathless.

I move my hand across her wrist and take her hand in mine, pulling her closer to me. She doesn’t resist.

“The flirting game of tackling me the other day.” She’s now so close I can feel her breath puffing against my mouth. My mouth presses against her plump lips and her body presses against mine, her hand tentatively wrapping around my neck. Kissing her again is fan-fucking-tastic. Teasing her, I pull back from our kiss. “The flirting game that you started in middle school.” I kiss her again, my tongue teasing her. The taste of beer lingers on her lips and it’s indescribable how good she tastes and how much I want to drink Mandy and her kiss in.

“I’m not…sure…” Mandy blinks her eyes rapidly, her fingers pushing up into my hair. “I’m pretty sure it was you who teased me back then.”

“Are you sure about that?” I lower my mouth to her neck and scrape her skin with my teeth, before sucking at her neck and making her moan.

“Oh my… And what… what about the mistletoe?” Mandy groans and I can feel her body heat burning against my body.

“What about,” I lick her neck slowly, “the mistletoe?” I kiss her along her jaw and she leans into me. I drop a hand down to her chest and slowly caress her breasts, and discover her nipples poking urgently against my fingertips.

“That…was you…teasing…me.”

I snake my arm around her waist and urge her even closer. Mandy moves so that she’s straddling my lap and every fiber of my being is loudly demanding to strip off her clothes and make love to her all night long. Tonight, and every night to come.

Mandy’s blue eyes meet mine, then she cups her soft hands along my jaw and lowers her mouth to mine. She nips at my lips, then parts my lips with her tongue, and then I’m falling into her and falling into how good she feels, how right Mandy feels. My hands roam her body, loving the feel of her soft curves, the weight of her on top of me.

Wrapping my hands around her ass, I bless whomever made leggings, because I can feel her ass clearly and I’m already fantasizing about bending her over and losing myself inside of her. If just kissing and groping her feels like this, burying my cock deep inside of Mandy is going to make me lose my mind in the best possible way.

“I think we need,” Mandy nips at my earlobe, “go somewhere more—”

We both freeze as heavy footsteps echo as Jimmy walks down the stairs from his bedroom. In a scene that feels like it’s out of a high school playbook, Mandy leaps off my lap and frantically smooths her hair and clothes, looking around wildly like her parents are about to walk in and discover us. I try and hide the raging hard-on pressing against my jeans, quickly grabbing a throw blanket to spread across my lap.

Like that is going to fool anyone, especially Jimmy…

Jimmy turns the corner from the stairs and looks at us, one arm in a sling and the other hand wiping his face.

“Man, I didn’t expect to sleep so long. What’ve you two been up to?”