Nixon (Raleigh Raptors 1)

Liberty burst through the door a couple of minutes later, dropping things here and there like a tornado. Her jacket dropped off a barstool, her bag landed on the floor, she heaped a stack of notebooks onto the kitchen island before turning that grin on me.

“Hey, handsome.” She came over and raised her face for a kiss.

I gave it to her, kissing her softly, then deepening it until we were both breathing ragged. “You hungry?” I asked against her lips.

“For you? Or dinner? Because the answer is yes.” She looped her arms around my neck.

“Good, the chicken will be done in about a half-hour.”

“Mmm. I knew something smelled good. Gotta love a man who cooks.”

I wrapped my arms around her. “Well, a man had to pick up a few more skills since his girlfriend dismissed the cook.”

“Hey!” She swatted my chest playfully and stepped out of my arms. “It was pure extravagance to have someone prep meals when we’re both fully capable.”

“But now he’s out of a job.” I wrinkled my nose.

Liberty’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. You’re right…and in this economy. Can we hire him back?”

“I mean…maybe if we act fast enough?” I raised my shoulders slowly.

She stilled, then narrowed her eyes on me. “Nixon Noble. You never fired Pete, did you?”

I stalked across the kitchen, backing Liberty against the pantry door. “Why do you think dinner smells so good?”

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” she muttered.

I hit my knees in front of her, then smoothed my hands on the sides of her growing belly. “And how was your day, my little whoosh?”

Liberty’s entire posture softened as I put my ear against the bump and nodded my head as if our daughter had spoken to me. “Is that so?”

Liberty’s eyebrow rose.

“Me, too, little whoosh. Me, too. Don’t you worry, I won’t let your mama starve you with my cooking, either.” I pressed a kiss to Liberty’s belly and stood. “See? She said she’s glad I didn’t let Pete go, either.”

Liberty let a begrudging grin spread across her face. “And it’s a good thing you’re sweet, too.”

I tugged her close and smoothed her thick, soft hair back from her face. “Out of everything I’ve been called in this world, sweet is not one of them. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m more known for the broody type.”

“Not to me. Maybe I just know you better than everyone else.” Her eyes danced, and that spark of happiness that had taken up residence in my chest flared to brilliant life. Yeah, I had feelings for this woman—really big feelings that came with real risk.

She kissed me again, then slipped out of my arms and headed for the kitchen island. She picked up her stack of notebooks and carried them into the war-torn dining room that served as her study.

I leaned against the doorframe and watched her add the notebooks into different piles, more than a little relieved to see that she had some kind of organization system, even if I didn’t understand it.

She thought I was sweet, but she also knew that she didn’t have access to the parts of me that made me bitter and angry.

“My brother Nick played quarterback, just like me,” I said slowly.

Her gaze flew to meet mine, but other than that, she didn’t move an inch. Her lack of holy shit reaction was what kept my mouth moving.

“We grew up tossing the ball. Nathan, too, but his thing was always hockey. Probably because he knew it was the one place Nick and I wouldn’t follow. When you’re a twin, people tend to lump you together like you’re one person, and hockey made him…Nate.”

She sat in the dining room chair slowly, not losing our eye contact.

“So yeah, when we were out in the yard, I was always with Nick, practicing our throws, talking about plays. He was a year younger than us, which sucked because he was always stuck in my shadow while we were in high school. He never got to play first string until I graduated, but when he did…” I cracked a smile. “He was something else. I was always good because I can read the field. I know where the play is going. But Nick had a cannon for an arm.”

My chest tightened as his smile came to mind. The easy, lopsided grin that had stolen my mother’s heart and charmed entirely too many girls for being as young as he was.

“They called him Little Noble, which he hated, of course.”

“Of course,” Liberty echoed softly.

“So anyway, senior year I got into Notre Dame on a full-ride scholarship—”

Her brow puckered, no doubt thinking about the University of Minnesota hoodie she liked to steal out of my closet.

“—yeah, we’ll get to that,” I assured her. “My parents were over the moon, and Nick’s eyes…I knew that’s where he’d wanted to go, too. Hell, he’d had the pennant tacked on his wall. But Nate didn’t get a hockey scholarship—not from Notre Dame, and it wasn’t like our parents could afford to foot the tuition, right? But he did get one from the University of Minnesota.”