Savannah was content to sit back and watch the family dynamic unfold, but apparently that’s not how it worked in the Riley household.
“Tell us in more detail about what you do for the team, Savannah,” Cara said after she took a seat on the sofa, sandwiching her between Cara and Alicia.
She noticed Cole watching her out of the corner of his eye, though he had his focus on the television. She knew he was listening in, no doubt afraid she was going to spill his secrets.
“I do public relations, both for the team and the individual players.”
Cole rolled his eyes. At the television. Ha. She knew better.
“That sounds fun,” Cara said. “So you juggle both?”
“My main job is to look out for the team’s image, so yes.”
“And how does that relate to you working with Cole?” Alicia asked.
Oh, she was smart. “I’ll be working with him, teaching him about the Trader brand. What the team stands for, who their charities are. Basically, I’ll be making him a St. Louis Trader.”
Alicia grinned. “In other words, you’ll be indoctrinating him into the cult.”
Savannah laughed. “More or less.”
“I’m going to go see about dinner,” Cara said.
Savannah stood. “Let me help you.”
“That’s not necessary. You sit here and visit. Alicia can help me.”
“Really, I love the kitchen. It’s one of my favorite places.”
“Oh, you’ve saved me,” Alicia said with a grin. “I hate cooking.”
Cara gave her daughter a look. “That means you’re on dishes.”
Alicia grimaced. “So I’m not saved after all. Cole can help me with dishes.”
“Joy,” Cole murmured.
Savannah followed Cara into the kitchen. “What can I do?”
Cara handed her a loaf of bread that looked and smelled heavenly, following up with a bread knife. “You can slice the bread.”
She washed and dried her hands and got to work on the bread. “It all smells so good.”
“I made lasagna. I hope you like Italian food.”
“Love it.”
“I imagine you miss your mama’s Southern cooking.”
She resisted the snort that stuck in her throat. As if her mother would have bothered fixing a meal. “I do a lot of that myself, so I get plenty of Southern home cooking.”
“Oh, really? I’d be thrilled for you to fix some dishes for me sometime. I love Southern cooking.”
“I’d be happy to.”
She helped Cara take the dishes into the dining room. The table was already set, so all they had to do was lay out the salad, lasagna, and bread.
“Let’s eat,” Cara said.
The television went off and everyone piled into the dining room.
“Savannah, you sit next to Cole right there,” Cara directed.
She took her place and Cole sat, but still didn’t seem happy about it. Not that she minded. This was a fact-finding mission, not a date, no matter what had happened at the wedding. She was here to see how he interacted with his family. Nothing else.
“When does practice start up?” Jack asked him.
“Already doing conditioning and drills with the team. We start practice next week.”
“You ready?”
“Yeah.” Cole took a slice of bread from the basket Savannah passed him. She smiled at him and he gave her a glare.
He was not happy. One would think he’d be over it by now. She was here and they were sitting next to each other, so he should make the best of it.
Savannah listened in while they talked of family and friends, about things going on with Jack at work. Idle chitchat, and, of course—football.
“I hope this season goes well for you, Cole,” Alicia said. “Maybe the Traders will keep you.”
He focused on his plate. “I don’t see any reason why they wouldn’t.”
“Others haven’t.”
Cole shrugged. “Not the right fit.”
“What do you think will be different this time?”
He pinned his sister with a cold look. “Why don’t you mind your own damn business?”
“Cole.” His mother shot him a warning glance, and he looked down to scoop up more lasagna.
“Hey, I was only asking.”
“Quit asking,” he said to his sister. “You have your own shit to deal with.”
“I’m dealing with my shit quite nicely, thanks.”
“Then why are you bothering with mine?”
“Because you’re my brother, you moron. And all I did was ask a damn question. What crawled up your ass?”
“Cole. Alicia. This is not appropriate conversation for a meal. And we have a guest, so it would be really nice if the two of you didn’t act like a couple of squabbling eight-year-olds.”
Cara, though seemingly sweet, obviously raised her children with a firm hand because they both clammed up. But now the dead silence at the dinner table was unnerving. Savannah ate and tried to make herself as small as possible. She had years of experience doing that.
“Sorry, Savannah,” Alicia said, obviously unruffled. “I hope you’re not offended. This is normal mealtime conversation around here.”
She smiled at Alicia. “I’m not offended at all. I’m used to dealing with athletes.”
“Hey, don’t talk to me like I’m not even here,” Cole said.