Going Long (Waiting on the Sidelines) by Ginger Scott

Author:Ginger Scott [Scott, Ginger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ginger Scott
Published: 2013-09-24T23:00:00+00:00

Jason and Dylan both pulled up to the house together early Thursday morning. Dylan looked like she was dressed for a charity gala, always so image conscious. Jason, on the other hand, looked like he had just finished a morning round at the golf club, his pompous sunglasses tucked neatly in the collar of his shirt as he walked into the kitchen.

“Morning, jerk-off,” he said, tossing a wadded up receipt at me.

“I know what I’m not thankful for,” I said, tossing it back at his face. He rounded the breakfast bar and put his arm around me for a squeeze.

“Oh, come on little brother. You know you love me,” he said, kissing the top of my head with a Donald-Duck-ish sucking sound. I just elbowed him off me and wiped my forehead.

I was helping Rosie peel potatoes, the repetitive task soothing. I hadn’t slept since my talk with my dad the night before, but instead, tossed and turned while I spun my grandmother’s ring around in my fingers. I was fucking exhausted, which I thought would come in handy tonight and help me get a really good night’s sleep before heading back down to Tucson for the game. Trig was still asleep in the spare bedroom upstairs, and I was so damned jealous of his happy-ass self.

Dylan walked over to the sink and rolled up the sleeves of her sparkling turtleneck to wash her hands. She smiled at me a bit, and I smiled back. I really didn’t have a beef with Dylan. Yeah, she wasn’t the nicest to Nolan in the past, but I think it was really more of her personality flaw rather than any actual malice or dislike for Nolan. And she was good at her job. She’d learned a lot from her father, and she was making some moves for me that I knew would set me up for life.

When she grabbed a potato and started to peel along side me, I chuckled a little. “What?” she said, stopping and putting her hand on her hip.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head and continuing to laugh a little to my self. She was still staring at me, though. “It’s just…you sooooo don’t look like the kind of girl who would know how to peel a potato.”

She just smirked at that and went back to work on her potato, peeling the entire thing in one cut, leaving a swirl of perfect curls on the counter before me. She turned around then and pulled a sharper, larger knife from the butcher block behind her. Turning the blade over in her hands a little to look at it, she finally rested it at the edge of the potato before lowering her gaze and then going to work, dicing it into the tiniest, perfect squares in a matter of seconds. The entire scene left me shocked—eyes wide, and my hands frozen in the suddenly inferior pile of potato peels in front of me.

“Ooooookay, so maybe you do look like the kind of girl who can peel a potato,” I said, my smile wide.

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