It only took a few plays to see that the Kowalskis played by their own rules and the few they had were fluid. Mostly they served to ensure the smaller kids didn’t get plowed over, victims of the adults’ competitive streaks.
Five minutes into the game, Emma somehow ended up with the ball. She squealed and looked around for somebody—anybody—to hand it off to, but there was nobody. Well, there was Danny, but he was doubled over in laughter.
“Run, Emma,” Lisa yelled.
She ran in the direction her friend was frantically waving her hand, but she only went a few feet before two very strong arms wrapped around her waist and then she was falling. Luckily, she landed on a body instead of the ground.
“I love football,” Mitch said, grinning up at her.
Emma grimaced and managed to get one of her knees on solid ground so she could push herself to her feet. He was quicker and freed himself to stand and help her up.
“They should give you the ball more often,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling and the grin so like Sean’s—but not quite as naughty—in full force.
“Hands off my girl,” Sean told him, pulling on Emma’s elbow.
“You should do a better job of blocking for her.”
“Let’s go,” Brian shouted.
The very next play, Mitch intercepted Mike’s pass to Evan and turned to run toward the other end zone. He was halfway there when Sean took him down hard. They hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud that made Emma wince, and came up pushing and shoving.
When Sean drew back his arm to throw the first punch, Mary blew her whistle from the sidelines. “Boys! Enough!”
Instead of heading straight for the huddle, Sean walked to Emma and pulled her into his arms for a hard, almost punishing caveman kiss that made her skin sizzle and her knees go wobbly. Then he glared at his brother for a few long seconds and went back to his team, leaving Emma standing there breathless and discombobulated.
Lisa was staring at her. So were Terry and Beth and Keri. All with raised-eyebrow speculation that made her want to bolt for a hiding place. So what if Sean had gone all Neanderthal on her? It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like he’d staked a claim. It was probably just an instinctual reaction to his older brother flirting with the woman he’d brought to the party. That had to be it.
A few plays later, Emma ended up with the ball again. There seemed to be some kind of unspoken rule that everybody got a chance to make a play, even if they sucked. She was going to run, but then she saw Stephanie bearing down on her with that killer Kowalski spirit in her eyes and tossed the ball up in the air.
Mitch—who hadn’t touched her since his first misguided tackle—snatched it out of the air and ran it back for a touchdown, much to the vocal dismay of her teammates.
“You play football even worse than you drive,” Sean muttered.
“Clearly it’s my lack of—”
He yanked her back against his body and wrapped his arms around her so he could whisper in her ear. “Don’t you dare say it.”
She laughed and leaned back against his chest. “Don’t say what?”
“If you mention the magic penis in front of these guys, I’ll never hear the end of it. Never. Hell, fifty years from now when our dicks are shriveled up and useless, they’ll still be cracking magic penis jokes.”
“What’s it worth to you?”
He tightened his arms around her and nuzzled her hair. “What are you looking to get?”
She turned her head so her lips were almost touching his cheek and dropped her voice down into the sexy bedroom range. “I want…to drive home.”
He snorted. “Figures.”
“Just imagine Mike all old and decrepit and toothless and leaning on his walker cackling and shouting, ‘Hey, Sean, how’s the magic penis hanging?’”
“Okay, you win. You can drive.”
“You gonna play or what?” Leo shouted at them.
Sean let go of her and headed back toward the ball, but as Emma looked over at the sidelines and debated on making a break for it, she saw Mary watching her with what looked like a rather smug smile curving her lips.
Emma wasn’t sure exactly what that could mean, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, either, so she forced herself to rejoin her team. They were in a huddle, discussing a play which thankfully didn’t seem to include her, but she listened anyway. And jumped when the huddle broke up and Sean slapped her on the ass.
His brother flirting with her had really brought out the touchy-feely in him, she mused as Terry ran past her with the ball.
“Emma, take her down,” Terry’s husband shouted, but it was too late. And she wasn’t stupid. Tackling Terry would hurt.
The score was either twenty-one to forty-two or tied at thirty-five, depending on who you asked, when Mary blew the whistle. “Time to clean up and get ready for the fireworks. Kids, make sure you go to the bathroom before we leave this year.”
Maybe it was only because Mitch was nearby and Mary had her eye on them, but Emma didn’t pull away when Sean took her hand in his for the walk into the house.