Declan said, his tone taking on a whine, âI donât like sports. Iâm not good at them.â
âHow are you going to get good if you sit on your butt all the time playing video games?â his father asked, exasperated.
James understood his uncleâs good intentions. Declan was overweight, didnât get enough exercise, and probably ate nothing but junk food. He also had the pasty look of the die-hard gamer. In Declanâs dadâs mind, playing sports was a way to get his son to exercise. A tactic James had been subjected to a thousand times growing up. What Uncle Peter didnât understand, considering heâd been captain of the football team in high school, was that those comments only increased the kidâs awkwardness and insecurity. The more he pushed Declan, the less inclined heâd be to play anything. And worse, it plummeted his self-esteem into the toilet.
Unable to keep his mouth shut, James jostled his younger cousin. âIâd rather be dead than play basketball. Never saw the point of all that running around just to throw a ball into a tiny hoop.â
Declanâs expression flashed with gratitude and relief, only to cloud a moment later when his dad said, âYeah, but look at James. He used to be just like you. Take a lesson from him.â
âHeâs fine,â James said, his tone flat. Embarrassing the hell out of the kid wouldnât help matters. If Peter was smart, heâd do what James did. At least once a month, he took Declan out and made sure he got active in things James knew he enjoyed. He didnât force him to play the sports he hated, and Declan never once complained about having to use his muscles.
âAll Iâm saying is it wouldnât kill you to play a little basketball,â Peter insisted.
Jamesâs jaw hardened.
âSorry to interrupt,â Gracie said from behind Peter, the distinct purr in her voice that meant she was about to manipulate someone. âBut earlier Declan promised to show me how to play Halo .â She beamed at Peter, her smile so dazzling it was blinding. âYou donât mind, do you?â
If he didnât know sheâd scratch his eyes out, James would have kissed her on the spot.
Peterâs attention dropped to Gracieâs chest, stretching the confines of her fitted top, and coughed. âUm . . . no, of course not.â
Gracie grinned at Declan. âBasketball bores me to tears, too. I mean, Iâd much rather kill things with a sniper rifle, wouldnât you?â
Declan grinned back, the worship written across his face.
Bottom lip puffed out in a pout, Gracie fluttered her lashes at Uncle Peter, who looked a little stunned. âI hope you donât mind, but Iâve been stuck on level thirty, for like, forever. Declan promised heâd help me beat it.â
Unable to contain his wide smile, James shook his head. Right at this second he would have done anything for Gracie. Sheâd made a kid who desperately needed a boost of confidence feel like a god.
âSure, go ahead, son.â Peter gave Gracie a long, perplexed look, then walked away.
Declan jumped up and waved her over. âCome on, Gracie.â
James pointed toward the back door. âGo set it up; sheâll be there in a minute.â
Declan ran into the house with surprising speed, probably expending more energy in that brief minute than he had all day. When the door shut, James turned back to Gracie and stood, then walked down the couple steps to stand at her level. âThank you.â
She blinked, and a faint pink stained her cheeks. âYou seemed on the verge of losing your temper.â
âI was.â James was surprised sheâd noticed, until he remembered Declanâs assertion that she watched him.
The question was, why? Was she plotting his murder?
She flashed a smile, a real one this time instead of the sex kitten one sheâd used to distract
Carolyn Faulkner
Zainab Salbi
Joe Dever
Jeff Corwin
Rosemary Nixon
Ross MacDonald
Gilbert L. Morris
Ellen Hopkins
C.B. Salem
Jessica Clare