“Fuck off,” I laugh, opening the door. Graham goes in first and I hesitate a moment before stepping over the threshold. I wait for it, anticipate it, and the door isn’t closed behind me before I feel it: the sense of being home. It’s the same feeling I’d get when I was a little boy and had been to baseball camp two too many days. It only happens here, at the Farm. It’s the warmth of the lighting, the perfect temperature, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla, like a fleece blanket has been draped over me.
This is what I compare every place I’ve ever lived to. My college apartment. The little place I had in Milwaukee right before I was traded to Memphis. The starter house I had there before I moved into the one, deemed safer by my agent, I have now. They never come close.
Although I’ve seen them a million times, I take in all the little things as I pass by. The photographs of my siblings and I peppered on the walls, the glass of marbles my grandmother collected sitting on the mantle. The ding right above the baseboard as we enter the hallway, a mark from a wild toss one day that was intended to hit Ford in the head but missed, both regrettably and thankfully.
Graham disappears around the corner in front of me, yet my feet falter. I uptake a quick breath, feeling like the time Sydney Fettingberg was my date for junior prom. She was the “it girl” of school and I felt like I had scored a grand slam when she agreed to go with me. I did hit a grand slam later that night, but it wasn’t all I thought it would be. I ended it a couple of weeks later.
This is that on steroids. Danielle’s laughter blending with my mom’s and sister’s, hearing Graham introduce himself to her, makes my chest feel like it’s going to explode.
I could stand here all night and listen to them. It feels better than any homerun I’ve ever hit, any ridiculous catch I’ve ever made in center field. This is better than any accolade I’ve gotten from the baseball league or any magazine cover I’ve been on and this isn’t even about me. It’s about her.
Maybe. Maybe it’s about me and her. Maybe it’s about us in a way that’s feeling more real with every passing minute.
“Hey,” I say, turning the corner. Everyone stops and looks at me. I see Mom first, a twinkle in her eye. Sienna gives me a thumbs-up. Graham looks slightly impressed and Danielle looks beautiful.
She’s sitting at the bar, Graham to her right and Sienna across from her, as naturally as if she’d been here a million times. She gives me a soft smile, an ease in her shoulders that makes me want to grab her and kiss the fuck out of her.
Walking up behind her, I put my hands on her shoulders and give them a gentle squeeze. “What’s happening?” I ask.
“I’ve made an order from Hillary’s House for dinner. It should be here in an hour or so,” Mom says. “How was your talk with your father?”
“Good,” I laugh. “What do y’all think of my girl?”
Dani stiffens under my touch, but I massage it out of her. I wish I could see her face, but I can’t.
“You don’t ask that in front of me,” she says, swatting at my hand.
“Normally he shouldn’t,” Graham agrees. “But I think he’s safe this time.” My brother looks at me and winks. “I have no idea how you’ve managed to convince this one to like you, but you should keep her.”
“I plan on it,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Now, if you guys are done, I’d really like to show her around.”
“Sure. Thaaaat’s what you’re wanting to do,” Sienna laughs, getting a tap on the leg from Mom.
“Go ahead,” Mom says. “Enjoy yourselves.”
Danielle steps off the stool and I immediately clasp my hand around hers. She looks at me, her big eyes lit up.
“We’ll be back.” I lead her into the hallway and my plan is to take her outside, but we don’t make it. As soon as we’re out of sight, I pin her to the wall.
“Linc,” she breathes, her hands finding the small of my back. She scrambles to find my skin buried under my shirt.
“Thank you for coming,” I whisper against her lips. I follow my words with the most reverent kiss I can manage. When I pull back, she’s smiling.
“Thank you for bringing me. Your family is amazing.”
“They’re all right,” I joke.
She doesn’t say anything, just cups my cheek with her hand. She searches my face for something, but a long moment passes before I can tell if she finds what she’s looking for.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I’m just thinking how handsome you are.”
“Get a good look at this face.”
“Why?”
I can’t help the smirk that tugs my lips. “This is the face you’ll be sitting on later.”
She falls against the wall, her mouth gaping open. Looking at me like she’s ready to skip the walk altogether, I step away. She gasps.
“What are you doing? You can’t say that and leave me hanging,” she complains. She reaches for me and I step back farther, laughing.
“Sure I can. I have things to show you first.”
“I hate you, Landry,” she groans, shoving off the wall with her shoulders. “I need the bathroom.”
“A little wet?” I say, bumping her shoulder. She’s not amused, which only makes me laugh harder. “The door at the end of the hallway. I’ll wait here.”
She grabs my cock and squeezes it through my pants, then she walks away.
Danielle
THE DOOR CLOSES A SPLIT second before my back hits it and I heave out a frazzled breath. I practice breathing deep, focusing on counts of eight. I realize this is Lincoln’s baseball jersey number and that makes me laugh and my heart to swell again.
I can’t win. Not with this man.
The excitement of everything is taking its toll. I could feel the adrenaline start to wear off right before Lincoln and Graham walked into the kitchen.
Graham. Holy shit. He’s like a darker, more brooding version of Lincoln. He doesn’t look at you. He assesses you. He doesn’t flippantly decide he likes you. He decides. Chooses. Everything with him seems so calculated and it leaves me scattered. He’s a force, the eye of a hurricane, and his power is felt not just by me, but by the whole family. They jab at him, tease him, but there’s a respect with Graham that makes me wonder who he really is behind the scenes.
I make my way to the sink and check myself out in the vanity. My reflection smiles back. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes almost shining in the light. I look . . . happy.
Rinsing my mouth out with a handful of cool water and smoothing out my hair, I open the door and flip off the light. Making my way down the hallway, I almost laugh out loud. It’s like walking through a commercial for greeting cards. Everything is so cozy and inclusive, just like the Landry’s have made me feel.
Lincoln isn’t standing where I left him. I peek into the kitchen and don’t see him in the mix. Turning, I catch the outline of two bodies, one of which is undeniably Lincoln’s, on the front porch through the window. I pitter across the hardwood and have my hand on the doorknob when I hear his voice on the other side.
“Yeah, Sienna,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “I do. I like her a lot.”
“I like her too.”
I smile and know I should open the door and not eavesdrop. But when I hear their voices again, curiosity gets the better of me.
“She seems really nice,” Sienna continues. “I think she really likes you too.”
“What’s not to love?”
Sienna laughs at him as I stifle my own.