Every nerve inside me stood on end as he appraised me in a way that hinted at the very same things I felt when I looked at him. Possession. Desire. Reverence.
His face, like his uniform, was streaked with dirt and sweat. The ends of his light hair curling around his ball cap were extra pronounced tonight. The scent of him was all man and so strong that being stuffed into the back seat of the cab with him made me feel drunk from it.
“What?” he said, still staring right back.
My head shook in an attempt to break the spell. “Nothing.”
He leaned forward, his hand covering mine. “What?”
Letting my fingers tangle through his, I let go of the breath I’d been holding. “I’ll tell you later tonight.”
His fingers squeezed mine. “I’ll be listening.”
After that, the ride went quickly. I did my best to keep his ankle from bouncing around, and he made it a point not to wince at the slightest movement. I knew he was in pain—just looking at his ankle made mine hurt—but there was something oddly appealing about the way he was capable of shrugging off anguish like it barely registered. Survival of the fittest or something primal like that.
And men were the supposed brutes . . .
“You brought my mom flowers,” Soren noted when the cab pulled up in front of the house he’d grown up in. “She’s going to love you even more now.”
“You say that like she already has some reason to love me.” Pushing open the door, I crawled out and turned to help Soren if he needed me.
“You put up with me. That’s plenty of reason to love you in Mom’s book.” Soren slid across the backseat after snagging his bag and set his good foot down on the street outside.
I held out my free hand for him to grab and pulled him up. “Watch your head.”
Too late.
Rubbing the spot on his forehead where he’d hit the doorway of the cab, he hopped a couple steps forward. “Maybe everyone will be too busy staring at the knot on my head to notice the cantaloupe lodged in my ankle.”
I grimaced when I lightly touched the fresh red mark on his forehead. We were going to need two bags of ice.
After Soren paid the driver, I made him sling his arm over my shoulder so I could help him.
“So this is where you grew up?” I took a moment to inspect the house we were approaching, unable to keep from smiling. It was a modest house with a small yard, like most of the houses near a big city would likely have, but it had been taken care of. Around back, I could just make out an old, rusted swing set. Around the yard, a few flowers were just starting to push through the soil.
“Dad and Mom brought all four of us home from the hospital to this place. Dad taught me how to throw a ball right out here”—he indicated the front yard we were passing through—“and my brothers taught me how to how to run fast and estimate the number of stitches I’d be getting while en route to the emergency room.” Soren’s arm slung more around my neck than my shoulder, drawing me closer to him. “Mom pretty much taught me everything else.”
When we made it to the bottom of the few stairs leading to the door, we paused.
“Want me to get one of your brothers to help?”
He snorted as he started hopping up the stairs like he’d done it a thousand times. He moved up them as quickly one-legged as I did on two. “Help, in my brothers’ book, would be greasing the stairs to see how many I could make before wiping out.” When we made it to the front door, Soren paused with his fist in the air before knocking. “Ready for this?”
I sucked in a breath. “Ready.”
After Soren knocked, footsteps could be heard moving inside. A few moments later, the door opened and a woman was standing on the other side of it. I knew where Soren got his smile from.
“Sorry we’re late, Mom. It was my fault.” Soren pulled the screen door open, waving me through first. “This is Hayden. Hayden, this is my mom.”
Soren’s mom waved us inside then wrapped her arms around me as soon as I made it through the door. “I also have another name—Caroline, not Mrs. Decker like I could tell you were about to call me.” She nudged me as Soren moved through the door. “I’m a former Midwest girl too.”
When I realized I’d been about to call her Mrs. Decker, I cleared my throat. “Thank you for having me. These are for you.”
Her hand covered her chest when I held out the flowers. “Gorgeous and thoughtful. Who would have thought a girl could be both? Isn’t that right, Soren?” Mrs. Decker—Caroline—lifted an eyebrow at Soren as he leaned in to kiss her check.
“Subtle, Mom. Real subtle.”
“Soren always used to complain that it was impossible to find a decent girl in this day and age. I told him he just had to be patient.” She patted his cheek a few times. “And look, his patience paid off.”
Soren and I exchanged a look, his leaning toward apologetic. “Hayden’s my roommate. We share the same living space. We’re friends. Let’s not make her uncomfortable before she even makes it past the front door.”
I waved it off, but yeah, kind of awkward. Especially with the realizations that had poured down on me an hour ago.
“Your dad and I were friends,” his mom said, turning toward the kitchen. “One marriage and four grown children later . . .”
“Mom,” Soren groaned, following her with me.
The smile fell from her face when she noticed the way Soren was moving. “What did you do now?”
“Nothing.”
Her hand went to her hip as she pulled a vase from one of the kitchen cupboards. “You’re limping.”
“It’s nothing. Just a little twist.” Soren stopped moving and leaned into the kitchen doorway. “Where are they?”
“In the living room. I told them they had to stay in there to give Hayden a chance to settle in before they all came at her at once.” Caroline filled the vase with water and unwrapped the bouquet. “Your dad’s in there with them, making sure they behave.”
Soren huffed. “Good call. Do you mind if I take a quick shower before dinner? I didn’t have time after practice, and well, I stink.” His nose dropped to his armpits and he took a whiff. His face scrunched up.
“Sure. I figured you’d be running late, so I stalled.” Caroline gave him a look that was all mother. “You’ve got a half hour.”
“Do you have a couple of baggies I could steal to fill with ice?” I asked as she arranged the flowers.
She opened the cupboard where the baggies were. “Did he hurt more than his ankle?”
I glanced at the red mark forming below his hairline. “His head too.”
“Of course he did,” Caroline chided good-naturedly. “Ice is in the freezer. We don’t have one of those fancy ice makers yet.”
“Thank you.” I freed a couple of baggies from the box before moving to the freezer.
Soren stayed in the doorway, waiting for me.