5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Tanner

"What the hell have I just done?"

I lowered my phone, my belly jangling with nervous excitement. Key was coming over. To my house. In half an hour.

Bingley farted in his sleep. That ended the giddy romantic fizz in my gullet and opened up a big can of reality.

Thirty minutes. My house looked—and probably smelled—like a kennel and I was lounging around in my oldest ugly workout clothes.

"Shit," I whispered, grabbing my brand new cane—my brother had gifted it to me just a few hours ago after I had been told by my therapist that I could move on from the walker—and I slowly pushed to my feet. Dogs scattered. I glanced down at my feet to make sure I didn't step/fall over a canine and saw my socks. Old socks.

"Rudy!" I bellowed, caning my way through the pack, who were now on high alert because I had yelled. Seems yelling about anything is a reason to enter bark mode. Bingley was even in on the ruckus but hadn't decided if getting up was truly warranted just yet, so he yipped from his reclining position. "Rudy!"

My brother thundered down the stairs in a summer dressing gown, a towel around his neck, and his hair foamy with deep red hair dye.

"What? Did you fall? Is there a fire? Did Elinor piddle on the carpet over seeing a squirrel again?" Rudy asked as he sped down the stairs. The mention of a squirrel sent the foursome into a true chaotic frenzy, racing to every window to add more slobber to the already dried slobber that had been applied since the housekeeping service had washed the windows two days ago. "Good gods, I cannot hear myself think!"

"We have company coming over in thirty minutes," I shouted above the din, going as fast as a man with a sore knee and a cane could move to reach the back door.

"What? I've just started dying my hair. Can we just tell your teammates to come over tomorrow?" He stamped around me, bare feet slapping on the hardwood flooring, in order to get around me and free the dingoes.

"It's not the guys," I said as I left him to the dogs and turned to make my way to the stairs.

"Stop, sit, sit! I am not going to open this door until everyone is seated," Rudy was saying as I hit the stairs. The climb was going to be stupidly slow. Dumb knees. Why did body parts have to wear out? Why did men a sneeze away from forty develop crushes on men much younger than they were? What the hell had I been thinking to say yes to the sexiest man ever to walk this planet to come on over?! "Now you may go." The pack raced outside, barks and yaps floating skyward as they searched for a squirrel that wasn't there.

"Shit, why do I own a house with two floors?" I grumbled while scaling the steps, one gimp and a heft at a time. Rudy came up behind me with his hands out as if he was going to be able to stop me if I fell backward. I'd take him down with me and probably flatten him in the process. "I need to shower and change stat."

"I'm sure your teammates have seen you looking worse."

"It's not the guys. It's Keyshaun."

When did these steps end? Did they go to heaven?

"Keyshaun? That beautiful man who we had such a lovely time with at the game and who you've been text flirting with ever since?"

I threw a dark look over my shoulder. Rudy met it with a cheeky grin. "I have not been text flirting with him. We're just friends. We talk about recovery methods and how I'll be able to get back into shape from this surgery."

"Yes, right, watch that rubber duckie dog toy." He scooted around me to pick up Elinor's squeaky duck from my path. "Well, whatever it is you two chat about, it lights you up like a beacon."

"Oh bullshit," I muttered, easing my bad leg—or my new and improved leg, as Tiny Trish from PT suggested I call it, to the top riser. I paused to catch my breath and let the ache in my knee subside. I'd for sure gone at that climb too hard. I'd pay for it later. Right now, I needed a shower, a comb, and a change of clothes. "I'm showering. I do not need help. Go pick up dog toys." He popped a hip as he motioned to the ruby red stuff sitting on his head. "Well, shit. Okay, go finish your hair and we'll tidy up when we're both done making ourselves presentable."

***

Sadly, picking up after the dogs never took place.

Rudy's home dye job took longer than he thought it would and I'd just managed to make myself look less grungy when the doorbell rang.

"Damn it." I sighed while making my way down the stairs in that dumpy cane on step below, surgery leg, non-surgery leg, cane on step below, surgery leg, non-surgery leg descent that took forever and a freaking day. "Coming!"

"Take your time," Key shouted from the other side of the front door. Rudy was shouting something to the dogs through the bathroom window. The sound of the bell had set them off in the back yard. It was a good thing I didn't have any close neighbors or the cops would be at my doorstep daily with noise complaints.

When I yanked open the front door ten years later, there he stood, smiling, brown eyes merry, and cloth totes filled with groceries. He was in black shorts, a sunshine yellow tank top with his gym logo, and leather sandals. The bright sunny color of his shirt looked so damn good against his dark skin.

"You look tropical," he commented as he stepped inside out of the heat.

"Oh yeah, I just pulled this on for therapy," I lied, running a hand down the front of my pineapple-print Hawaiian shirt. "This is really nice of you. We were going to order a pizza in town for dinner."

"As a nutritionist and a fellow jock, it's my sworn duty to say that my cooking will be far better for you as you work through your recovery than a pizza. But I still love pizza, don't get me wrong."

"No, I get what you're saying. Eating well is a huge part of any athlete's regime, whether if they're playing or trying to bounce back from surgery."

"Exactly! And no trying. Recovering fully from surgery." He winked and then shuffled his bags.

"Thanks for the reminder to think positive, Yoda." Key laughed. My belly tickled with what felt like a kaleidoscope of newly hatched butterflies taking to wing. "Let me show you to the kitchen."

I led him through the first floor, pointing out the living room, dining room, and mud/laundry room before waving him ahead into the food prep area.

"This is nice," he said as he took in the huge room that had recently been redone. I was quite proud of it, even if I had only signed the checks to the contractor. Four big windows gave the room plenty of light, which made the Marlboro blue cabinets really pop on sunny days. The center island matched the cupboards and counters and gave four people a place to sit and eat on white wooden swivel stools. A dishwasher sat tucked under the white marble counters. Resting beside the pantry doors was the fridge, an ivory retro beauty that the contractor's wife—an interior designer—had insisted I buy. And my pride and joy, a deep blue modern woodburning cookstove, sat off to the side. The backsplash was white tile that climbed halfway up a long wall to two lengthy shelves that held old finds I'd picked up at local auctions. Dishes, several pitchers, baskets with ivy, an antique rooster statue, and a blue velvet Kitchen-Aid mixer that had yet to be used. Rudy wasn't a master chef and my skills in the kitchen ended with scrambling eggs, but I longed to someday take cooking lessons. "Damn, this is massive. My kitchen is a third of the size of this room."

"Back in the old days, farmers had a dozen kids and needed a large kitchen to hold them all," I replied, easing myself up onto a stool with a sigh. The dogs were at the back door, whining to be let back in as Key placed his bags on the center island countertop.

"Makes perfect sense. So, that stove. Does it run solely on wood or is there gas?" He began lifting containers out of his cloth bags.

"It's solely wood. We keep a low fire in it during the day. I can go get a few chunks of wood to—"

"You just sit and rest. Elevate that leg, get some ice on it."

"Are you related to Tiny Trish at WG Rehab?" I teased and got a chuckle.

"Not to my knowledge. One sister is enough. So," he rubbed his hands together, "I'm excited to try cooking on a wood stove. Tell me where the wood is and I'll get things rolling."

"Just outside the back door is a small room filled with wood. The dogs are in the back yard though, so maybe I should—"

"Nah, I love dogs." He moved to the fridge, yanked open the freezer, and removed a gel-pack wrap, which he carried over to me. "Elevate and ice. Get to it."

I took the wrap. "You're incredibly bossy."

"Do you like it?" His gaze grew warm.

"Maybe a little," I confessed as a plaintive howl rolled in the open windows. "That's Bingley. He's old and dramatic."

"Bingley. I love that name. Right, off I go to greet the dogs and fetch wood." He moved with masculine grace to the mudroom. His back view was just as delicious as his front. His shorts cupped his round ass in a tantalizing manner. I placed the ice pack on my groin as he flung open the back door with a yelp of glee as the pack said hello. Excited barks and laughs filled the kitchen as I smiled like a damn dolt at the sound. Key really did like dogs.

That was evident by the arrival of Keyshaun, arms loaded with dry maple chunks, and four dogs dancing around him.

"Gang, sit," I barked and got a solid three out of four dogs to plant their butts to the ground. Bingley never had cottoned well to discipline. He'd been an old fella when I adopted him, and his hearing was poor, so I kind of let him slide a bit. Also, he was a small dog who was too old to leap and bound, whereas the others were more sprightly. Even Elizabeth, with three legs, could leap to incredible heights to kiss a person hello.

"They're a friendly bunch," Key said as he sidestepped Darcy, who had sat right where he stood, which was right in front of Key. Darcy was a massive dog, pure black, and missing an eye, which did not slow him down in the least.

"Rescue dogs seem to be that way." I reached down to scrub Elinor's head. As the youngest of the group at a guesstimated three, the gray pittie was all energy and kisses. She'd been misused, bred, and left behind with her pups after the owners had been arrested and sent to prison. The shelter had fed her and nursed her back to a proper weight, homed her pups, spayed her, and then found it hard to locate a home for such a notoriously mean breed. Mean. PFFT. Elinor wouldn't harm a fly. She wanted nothing more than to romp and play and cuddle. The moment I saw her picture in the local paper, I went to the shelter to fill out the adoption papers. I've never regretted that decision for a second.

"My housing community doesn't allow pitbulls," he said and then dumped the chunks in his arms into a small wooden box made to hold fuel for the stove.

"Sadly, the breed has a bad rep. Dogs aren't born mean, they're made that way by stupid people," I snapped. "Sorry," I tacked on. "I get upset about dumb humans being cruel to animals."

"Same here," he said, then turned to gaze at the stove. "So, uhm…yeah. Care to help a city boy out here?"

"Happy to oblige," I replied, and in no time Key had a fire going and was cooking up a storm. I was happy to sit and ice my knee, my gaze locked on the man creating a feast while chatting about everything under the sun.

Rudy showed up about the time Key was creating the rice bowls. We both glanced over at my brother at the same time.

"Wow, that's red," Key and I said simultaneously. Rudy preened and then flipped his hair playfully. He was dressed to the nines in a shimmery skirt, a pink top, and sparkly sandals. Pretty fancy for a meal surrounded by sleeping dogs.

"I know. It's perfectly me! Wade loves it. Oh, that smells lovely. I wish I could stay, but I have a meeting tonight," Rudy explained as he stepped over the pooches to get to his shoulder tote hanging off the back of a stool.

"Since when?" I enquired as my brother sailed out the door with a "Ta!" thrown over his shoulder. The back door closed with a snap, and I looked at Key. "I didn't know he had a meeting."

"It's fine. That's what happens when you just drop by." He handed me a wooden bowl overflowing with browned beef cubes, florets of broccoli, and a mound of rice. Beef gravy coated the rice and broccoli. The smell was divine. The dogs thought so as well and moved closer to lie down near our stools. Just in case someone dropped some beef.

"Hmmm, I suspect he just ran out to spend a few hours shopping so we could be alone tonight," I said just as Rudy's car rolled away, the tires crunching on the gravel drive.

"Would that be all bad?"

No, not at all. Maybe we'd get a kiss if you play your cards right!

Yeah, me and cards do not mix. I lost every hand of poker I've played with the guys on the bus. Remember?

Oh yes, and then there was Atlantic City. Okay, so no cards. Maybe we'd get a kiss if you told him you wanted to be kissed?

"No, that would be nice." I winced inwardly. Ugh, I needed to up my game. And not the one that I played with a stick. I was such a terrible flirt. "No, uhm, not nice."

He glanced up. There was a flash of pain that he quickly covered. "I mean…yes it would be nice, but nice wasn't the right term. Nice is like something that's just okay. When your brother buys you a garish tie and you don't really like it as it's just too bright for you but you don't want to hurt his feelings so you enthuse about how nice of a tie it is. Nice isn't a strong enough word. A night alone with you would be really great."

His smile eased the worry in my breast.

"That sounds like it's happened to you," he said.

"Several times. I have a hanger of Rudy ties I never wear but can't bring myself to donate to Goodwill because I know he spent hours choosing the tie for me."

"That's sweet. You're a good brother, and I feel that in so many ways." He moved around the kitchen as if he had prepared meals here for years. I loved that natural fluency. He moved with confidence and finesse. Very, very sexy. "My sister insists on buying me silly slippers. I mean, yeah, my feet get cold in the winter, but how many yellow duckie or giant bear claw slippers does one man need?"

"How is your sister?" I asked to steer the topic to something far away from my blunder.

"Good. Ready to have those babies. She should go soon. Then the real fun will begin. What do you want to drink with the meal?"

"Oh, I have bottled water and some Gaudion wine in the fridge." I went to stand. Key placed a hand on my shoulder to stall me. I looked up into sweet brown eyes that held me captive.

"Sit, rest that knee."

"I feel odd letting people wait on me."

"Don't feel odd. I enjoy cooking and entertaining people that I'm attracted to."

His fingers moved just a few inches, long strong fingers came to rest on the nape of my neck. My blood supply drained from my head for a fast trip south.

"I think you're really entertaining," I managed to croak. He gave my neck a soft squeeze.

"I do my best. So let me be in my happy place." Sadly, he had to remove his hand to get the refreshments, set out the plates and flatware, and return to his food prep. I could not take my eyes off him. His body was long and firm, perfectly sculpted, and possessing power. His muscles flowed smoothly as he plated up our rice bowls. I would love to run my hands over his body, bury my nose in his stomach, and breathe in his scent, touch and taste, and—

"Are you good? Did you want to say grace or something?" Key asked after a moment passed with me just staring at his bare arms.

"Oh, uhm, I'm not really religious, but if you want to do a prayer…"

"No, I'm good. I'm not super into the church scene either. I do go with my family on the big days, but other than that, I tend to take that day for myself. I'm sure the Lord understands, even if my mother doesn't."

We dug in. I'd never had a rice bowl like it before. The beef was tender and lean, the rice fluffy, and the taste was bold, just a little spicy. Avocado chunks, shallots, corn, and some jalapeno bits mixed well and tossed over the rice that sat atop a bed of cilantro.

"This is incredible," I said between mouthfuls. Key beamed at the praise.

"I aim to please," he replied with a look of pure sin that rivaled the jalapeno for heat. There was a randy comment on my tongue, but I didn't quite dare let it loose.

"You have pleased with this meal. It's delicious," I said instead. We ate slowly, talking about movies and sports in between bites. The dogs were abnormally well-behaved and only Bingley whined for a nibble, which Key dropped to him. So the ex-Army boxer was a softie. That was good to know.

"I think there's a fruit bowl in the fridge if we'd like dessert," I offered after our bowls were cleaned and placed in the dishwasher.

"Sounds good. Why don't you go find a movie to watch and I'll dish it up," Key suggested, and so I slid from the stool, grabbed my cane, and made my way to the sofa. The sun was just now sliding behind the horizon, golden shafts of light peeking through the trees before disappearing from sight for the night. I'd always loved this time of day. Sunset was something special. The end of the day. A time to come home and share downtime with family and friends. No sooner had my backside hit the couch than four dogs appeared, tags jingling, toenails clickity-clacking, seeking me.

"I'm right here, you big numpties." I chuckled as they leaped onto the sofa, taking their usual places. I nudged Darcy over and got a look. "We have to save room for Key," I explained to the lab mix that, it seemed, cared little about where Key was sitting. For all Darcy cared Keyshaun could sit on the floor. "Over you go."

He moved, but it was begrudgingly. I found the remote buried under a book I'd been reading. The TV came to life. I began searching through the choices on several streaming sites, finally finding something I thought we both might like to watch. I brought the show up then paused it, taking the time to place my heel on the coffee table with a sigh. I should be icing it, but to heck with it. I did not want Key to think I was an invalid. I wanted him to think of me as the man who I had been before my worn-out knee gave out.

Key arrived with two large bowls filled with rounded balls of watermelon, cantaloupe, and pineapple with some strawberry and orange slices.

"Is that hole for me?"

I nodded, and he wiggled his backside down to sit right beside me. Darcy gave him a dark look as he nestled down on my left. The press of his thigh to mine was nice as was the way he seemed right at home sharing a sofa with four dogs. Bingley was on my lap, the girls sprawled on either end, Elinor with her favorite old sock. Of all the toys they had, she had to bring the old, knotted, holey sweat sock I'd tossed to her two months ago.

"This is cozy. Oh! What is this?" He pointed at the screen with his spoon.

"It's called Persuasion. I've not seen it yet, but I've read it several times. Dakota Johnson and Cosmo Jarvis. Says it's rated well."

"If it's got hot men in waistcoats and tight breeches, I'm there." He poked a cube of melon, tugged it from his fork with white teeth, and gave me a nudge in the side. With a laugh, I hit play, and we got comfy with our dessert and dogs. The movie was lovely, I was sure, but I couldn't give it the attention it deserved with Key sitting so close to me.

When The End arrived, I smiled widely, pleased enough with what I had seen of the film to opine on it if need be. Key would probably want to discuss it, and so I frantically ran through the bits I'd watched when my sight wasn't on his bare calves, forearms, or profile.

The dogs were out cold around us, eight paws in the air, a white poodle snoring, and one old pug drooling on my pant leg. Also, though I wasn't sure, I suspected Darcy had been tooting during the show. Darcy was a big farter.

"Well, what did you think? I always enjoy Dakota in—" I opened with hoping to sound erudite. Seems it didn't matter if I had an opinion of the movie. Key turned as soon as I spoke and plastered his sweet as cantaloupe and strawberries lips to mine. I was shocked, pleasantly so, and put more into the chaste meeting of mouths. His lips were warm, honeyed with fruit juice, and so soft. We tasted each other's lips languidly. Then someone let one rip. I mean a loud explosion that startled three dogs out of a sound sleep. Darcy snoozed on. The stench was horrendous. Eye watering. Ghastly.

Key shot to his feet to get his head above the gaseous cloud, laughing madly, and then offered me a hand. I gratefully took it. He tugged me up and held me, not too tight, but not too loosely, to stare into my eyes.

"That dog needs a new diet," he teased and then grew serious. "I hope it was okay to just kiss you. I probably shouldn't have without consent, but I've been sitting here all night wondering if you tasted of cantaloupe."

"Did I?" He was solid and tall, a perfect fit, our heights nearly the same.

"Mm-hmm. I love cantaloupe even more now." I stole a chaste kiss. The dogs began to stir, needing to go outside before bed and their sleepy-time biscuits. They had me well-trained. "I should get moving. Your brother will want to come home soon."

"From his mystery meeting."

"Yep, and I have to be up early to lead a yoga class at seven for my sister."

"Let me walk you to the door. Oh, don't forget your groceries."

"Why don't I leave them here so I can come over and cook for you again? If you want, of course. See, I do know about consent."

"I'd like that a lot."

"Me too." He pressed a kiss to my hairy cheek. "I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, for sure. And I apologize for Darcy. I think that was a planned toxic detonation. He didn't like you hogging his spot."

Key chuckled. "He just might have to get used to it."

"Yeah, he just might."

I'd buy the dogs their own couch if it meant I could have this man curled under my arm again.