When We Touch (The Heartbreak Brothers 5)

Logan walked into the kitchen and came out carrying a ball and a duffle bag, as though it was normal to keep sports equipment in his restaurant. Daniel followed the five of them out of the door, noticing they were all wearing athletic shoes.

A spontaneous game of football? Sure. Tell that to the judge.

Logan led them to an empty field about a four minutes walk away, with a makeshift goal at either end. “We need to pick teams.”

“I’ll take Daniel and Cam,” Gray said. “You can have Michael and Tanner.” He looked at Daniel. “No tackling, no kicking. We throw and we score touchdowns. That’s it.”

“Sounds good to me.” Especially the no kicking part.

They started off with a warm up, Logan throwing the ball to Michael, who threw a hard lob at Tanner. The youngest brother dodged to the left, avoiding the catch, and they all laughed loudly.

“Hey, take it easy. I’m not the guy messing around with Becca,” he complained.

Gray shot his brother a dark look. “Just catch the damn ball, Tanner,” he muttered, picking it up and throwing it to Cam. The ex-professional football player caught it easily, then turned to Daniel with a speculative glance.

“How hard should I throw it at you?” he asked Daniel.

“As hard as you want.” He wasn’t backing down. And he wasn’t going to dodge it. They wanted to test him? Fine. He’d take a beating if he needed to.

Cam’s throw was fast and pointed. The ball careened toward Daniel, who shot his hands up, wincing as the heavy leather slapped against his skin. A smile tugged at his lips as he caught it, and Cam gave him an unsmiling nod.

One brother down, three to go.

“Okay, we’ll start,” Gray said, handing them each a handkerchief. “Your flags. Put them down the back of your pants.”

“We’re playing flag football?” Daniel did as he was told, placing the fabric square into the gap between his waistband and back.

“Cam played professionally. Logan nearly did. If they tackle you, you’ll feel it. Instead, we take the flag and that means you’re down.”

“Or I take the flag,” Daniel pointed out, “and they’re down.”

“Touché.” Gray nodded. “Now let’s play.”

Ten minutes later, Gray’s side was winning by six points. Michael and Cam were pretty much leading each team. Logan was doing his best – though you could tell by the way he ran that he had a bad knee. Tanner wasn’t really bothering, having too much fun making his brothers shout at him. Gray was good – but no match for Cam and Michael.

As for Daniel, he was just glad for all the boxing and running he did. He wasn’t the most skilled footballer, but he could keep up.

He was throwing the ball to Cam when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. At first he thought it was a flock of birds, swooping down to eat seeds from the earth. But then the flash got closer, the pink color becoming clearer, and he frowned, calling out to Logan who looked to see what was up.

“Oh shit. The pigs.” Logan’s eyes widened. “How the hell did they escape their pen?”

Cam hadn’t noticed, as he was too busy making a run for the goal, Michael fast on his heels. But Tanner had. He’d stopped running, and was staring at the oncoming stampede with his mouth open.

Daniel had always thought pigs were slow, lazy animals. But the twenty or so beasts running toward them looked fast, their trotters kicking up dust as they ran past the goal and a surprised looking Cam, heading right toward where Logan, Daniel, and Tanner were standing.

“Hot damn.” Tanner turned on his heel and started to run, squealing louder than a pig ever could.

Logan swallowed hard. “We gotta turn them back,” he muttered. “Before they reach the road.”

“How do we do that?” Daniel asked.

“We run at them.” Logan spoke through gritted teeth.

Daniel lifted his gaze to the pigs. Their bodies undulated as they ran, their curled tails bobbing. They were closer now, their mud-covered bodies looking menacing as they continued their onslaught across the grass.

“You ready?” Logan asked.

Not at all. But he wasn’t backing down either. “Sure.” His heart started to hammer against his chest. The closest he’d ever come to a pig was on his breakfast plate.