Gordon hefts that keg like it weighs nothing, and I get a flash of an image of Atlas from my old mythology book. He’s the Titan who was strong enough to hold up the sky. Gordon seems to have the strength and determination to hold this family together, that’s for sure.
“Have you ever baked chocolate fudge cake?” Gordon asks.
“Sure. Who used to bake it, you know… before?”
“Dad. He loved baking. Sunday would always be muffin day, and the last few years, he even started baking his own bread using ancient grains. It was seriously rustic but much better for you than the store-bought stuff.”
“He did?” The image of my dad with his shirt sleeves rolled up, kneading dough, seems like a strange fantasy.
“With our training, he got heavily into health. All our meals were designed to give us the maximum energy and nutrition.”
“But he made you muffins and chocolate fudge cake.”
“Yeah, but the muffins have zucchini in them, and the chocolate fudge cake contains beets.”
“Beets? Like the purple things from underground?”
“Yep, and natural sugars too. None of that processed stuff.”
“Wow… that’s… awesome. But I’ve never made a beet cake before. I’m not sure it’ll be any good.”
Gordon smiles, his eyes crinkling in the reflection of the review mirror. “We can follow the recipe, and I guess we’ll have to hope for the best.”
Back at the house, Hunter and Harley are busy with classes, so we have time to dig out the folder of recipes my father put together and start on the chocolate cake. It’s fun doing something as domestic as baking with my foster brother. The counter gets covered with flour, and Reggie drops an egg, much to Gordon’s disgust and my amusement. The batter is dark and delicious looking, and Reggie scoops some from the edge of the bowl with his finger and plants it on my nose. I squeal, searching for a cloth to wipe myself, but I’m not quick enough. He grabs hold of both sides of my face and licks it off. “Mmmm… delicious.” He laughs even harder when I swat him. “You know, I can think of even better places to spread this and lick it off!”
“Can you guys concentrate? This cake is going to be a disaster if you keep fooling around.” Gordon grabs the mixing bowl, tipping its contents into the round tin.
Reggie shakes his head at his brother. “This is supposed to be about creating joy, not being a fun-sponge.”
I snort, retreating to the sink to find a cloth and beginning the laborious task of clearing up.
“Someone has to be an adult in this house,” Gordon mumbles.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we all are adults,” Reggie says, lounging against the counter.
“Age-wise, maybe, but attitude is a different story, and anyway, I’m perfectly capable of creating fun.”
“Yeah, like Monica in Friends? He’s gonna be running around with coasters at the party tomorrow.”
“Fuck you,” Gordon mutters, giving his brother a narrow-eyed look, but he doesn’t deny it, which makes me smile.
“So, this needs to go into the oven… I’ll set the timer.” Gordon gets the cake baking, and Reggie begins to help by mopping the floor; ordinary life, but so out of the ordinary because this isn’t a regular family. It’s two gorgeous sexy football players who know their way around real life.
“When this is done, we need to leave for training. Want to come, Maggie?” Gordon shrugs as though he doesn’t care if I do or I don’t, but I’m sure he wouldn’t have asked me out of politeness.
I’ve never been a big sports fan for anything other than ogling guys in tight pants, and today doesn’t feel any different. But this is a big part of their life, and it’s nice that they want me to be there. “Sure, I’ll come.”
The cake looks surprisingly good. All it needs is some chocolate frosting. Between us, the kitchen is returned to its former surprisingly clean state. The guys head upstairs to get ready for training, and I take a quick look in the mirror, wanting to make sure that all the chocolate cake batter has been removed from my nose and I look presentable. My skinny jeans have tears across them in the way that’s on-trend these days, and I dig out a figure-hugging white top that wraps around my middle and ties at the side. It’s cute and draws attention to my still-trim figure. It’s not that I want anyone looking at me, more that I don’t want to be an embarrassment to my foster brothers.
It doesn’t take us long to get to the indoor gym facility where they train. They take me inside, and I immediately catch sight of Harley and Hunter, who are spotting each other lifting weights. Hunter’s lying on the bench, his hands gripped around the bar, Harley’s hand underneath in case his brother is too tired to lift.