She drew her gaze away from Blake to watch Jordan catapult over one of the deck chairs like he was jumping into the end zone on a quarterback sneak. Everyone had agreed their gatherings were to take place in a cone of silence. If other people saw them out and about and tweeted about it, well, that was another thing.
“Do you want to hide Grant’s pants or should I?” Jordan asked them, shaking the article in his hand.
Like she’d touch them. “If you’re going to hide them, you’d better do it quick,” Natalie said. “They’re coming back.”
Sure enough, Grant was running toward the porch in nothing but his form-fitting black athletic shirt and a pair of navy underwear, his massive legs as big as tree trunks. The other guys were jogging behind him, laughing so hard they could barely keep up. Touchdown was now doing mad circles around his buddies. He was as out of control as the rest of them.
“I’m going to cut you, Jordan!” Grant called out as Jordan darted into the house. “Sorry about my appearance, Natalie.”
He didn’t blush—after all, these men were accustomed to using locker rooms—but he did cross his hands over his crotch. At least they’d only taken his pants. Sometimes the guys went a bit further.
“Grant!” Blake shouted. “Go put on another pair of pants. We have women around.”
“Shit. Right. Sorry again, Nat.”
“I’ll…ah…finish setting up if you can referee these guys into shape,” she told Blake, heading inside. “Good luck with that.”
It was hard not to admire the sheer perfection of Grant’s butt as he jogged into the house. Sure enough, her two female assistants stared at him as he came inside. Who could blame them? Grant was all muscle—every woman’s dream.
As she’d expected, her staff already had the food laid out buffet style in the kitchen, just like the guys usually preferred. Thick cuts of ham and prime rib filled the room with a delicious savory scent, which mingled pleasantly with the aroma of her famous dill-infused sour cream potato salad. A mountain of cheese and fruit lay on the four platters her staff had brought in. And of course, her special cheese dip was showcased in the center of a chip bowl.
Sam cocked his head at her as he grabbed a cube of Swiss cheese. “You’ve outdone yourself as usual.”
She patted one of her assistants on the back. “Thanks for setting this up. Everything looks great. You guys can head out.”
That earned her a forlorn look, but her helpers traipsed out the front, which was probably for the best. Through the windows, she could see Brody and Logan bent over at the waist, guffawing with abandon. And this was only the beginning. By Sunday night, everyone would be completely out of control in the best way possible. When they got together, they tended to devolve into the little boys they used to be at football camp.
“Do you know what the Smuck award is on this trip?” she asked Sam.
“No, but Jordan was in charge of it, and he says it’s a doozy.” He shook his head. “They’re already losing it.”
“And you love every minute of it,” she said, tempted to grab a piece of smoked mozzarella from the platter. Smoked gouda was yummy, but smoked mozzarella was something else altogether.
“Usually,” Sam said, coming to stand beside her. “Not when they stick lizards in my bed.”
Yeah, she remembered that weekend at Logan’s cabin in Nevada. It was the reason she’d imposed the no-live-animals-or-insects-in-the-house rule for when she and Blake hosted.
“How’s your mom?” she asked, thinking of how interconnected her life had been with Blake’s. She hadn’t just known these guys; she’d known their families. And Jordan’s girlfriend, Grace, had become a real friend. That had all disappeared, and she suddenly felt that loss keenly.
“Mom’s great. Said to say hello if I saw you.” He paused. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I would see you.”
Since she hadn’t planned to visit with them until Blake had asked her to help with the food, she only nodded. “I’m glad it worked out.”
“Me too.” He popped another piece of cheese in his mouth.
“So, what do you think about Blake retiring?” she ventured to ask, trying to appear casual by straightening one of the chafing pans.
“I don’t think that’s the right question.”
Busted. Leave it to Sam to cut to the chase. “Okay, why don’t you tell me what you think about what he’s done?”
“You know as well as I do that he didn’t retire from football simply because Adam died.” Resting with his back against the kitchen island, he gave her his complete attention. “Natalie, you cut him open with a chainsaw when you left, and he’s never gotten over you.”
She couldn’t repress a gasp. “Well…don’t mince words, Sam.”
“You asked. After seeing everything he’s gone through lately, I’m going to give it to you straight.” His eyes locked with hers. “He would do anything for you—even give up football. If you don’t see that, and if you don’t value it, then you’re not as smart as I always thought you were.”