you not feel that sleeping with an employee is crossing a line? In fact, some consider that crossing a legal line.”
“I care about your son,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. It was the truth. I cared about Mikey way more than I ever expected to when I first saw his little supposedly quiet self in Bruce’s office five years ago. “Very much,” I added softly.
His nostrils flared as he finally moved his laser stare onto something else across the room. It could have been the family photo from Eddie’s wedding, but I wasn’t sure.
“You’re dismissed.”
I opened my mouth to ask if he meant I was dismissed from the team or simply his office, but he beat me to it.
“Get your gear on and give me a reason not to send your ass to Buffalo right this fucking minute.”
I lit out of there like my feet were on fire. After changing out and meeting with the PTs for a special warm-up and stretching, I met up with Mopellei and Brent out on the practice turf. Of course, it was the worst practice day yet. I felt like I dropped damned near every pass and even tripped over my own feet at least twice.
I wasn’t sure how much it mattered, though, since Coach never showed up to watch.
When I got home, I was tired, sore, and grumpy, not to mention scared as hell of admitting my mistake to Mikey. But he wasn’t home. I knew he was probably out delivering the meal he’d agreed to make for his parents’ next-door neighbor, but I’d hoped he’d be home by now.
I wanted to hold him and ask his advice about his dad. Maybe try to find out if he was ready to put a label on our new relationship and approach his family as… family instead of their son and his boss.
I’d never felt like Mikey’s boss. To be honest, if anything, I’d felt like his employee. Mikey had always been the boss in our house. I did what he said because I knew he always had my best interest at heart. He always had, even when it was simply a working relationship.
After pulling out some leftover salad and spying a dinner plate he’d left for me in the fridge, I shoveled food down until I’d cleaned the bowl and plate of every morsel. The house was too quiet without Mikey there. I changed into pajama pants and wandered into the movie room to watch SportsCenter. When I’d caught up on all the news and was in the process of trying to decide whether I wanted to watch an action movie or put on one of Mikey’s cooking shows, the man himself appeared and walked right over to climb on top of me.
“Hey,” he mumbled into my chest.
He smelled faintly of the garlic bread he always made to go along with chicken parm. He’d most likely cleaned the kitchen after stashing the meals in his car so I wouldn’t smell the delicious food he’d made and get envious. I’d enjoyed the salmon, sweet potato, and asparagus he’d left me, but I would have much rather dug into the hearty Italian food. One day I’d get to enjoy his food without having to worry so much about my performance, but that day was not today, especially in the run-up to the playoffs.
I wrapped my arms around him and held on tightly. “Hey. Thanks for leaving me dinner. I was starved when I came in.”
He lifted his head up and frowned at me. “Of course I left dinner for you. It’s my job.”
My stomach dropped like a rock at the reminder of our tenuous working relationship. I didn’t want him to cook for me because he was getting paid, and I often forgot he was getting paid since he was the one who did the paying. Mikey handled all of my bills, including his own payroll. It meant it had been easy for me to stop thinking of him as my employee. The reminder didn’t sit easy on my gut.
I scraped my top lip with my bottom teeth. “Well, thanks. It was really good. How was your mom? Did you see her when you dropped off at the Niberts’?”
He shook his head and smiled. “No. Mrs. Nibert insisted on besting me in, like, ten games of backgammon while catching me up on all the drama from Bible study which included, but was not limited to, several people coveting their neighbors’ wives.