Chapter 182: Dinner is Served

NORA’S POV

"Wait... you two know each other?"

Drew pulled his hand back the instant Knox released it, discreetly shaking out his fingers behind his thigh. "Yeah, Mrs. Bennett. We’ve met."

"We’ve crossed paths on the ice, Ellen," Knox clarified calmly, his gray eyes never leaving Drew’s face. "Miller’s team plays in our non-conference showcase."

"Oh, an on-ice rivalry!" Mom laughed, completely delighted by the coincidence. "Well, leave that roughhousing on the rink, boys. At this table, we share the stuffing!"

Drew forced a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Knox likes to get up close and personal against the boards."

Knox tilted his head, his smirk razor-thin. "Only when someone doesn’t know how to keep their head up."

Drew’s jaw tightened.

Before the testosterone in the room could combust, I darted forward, grabbing the bakery box from the counter. "I’ll put the pie in the pantry so it stays cool!"

Mom immediately took charge of the room. "Hank, be a dear and uncork that jug of spiced cider from the fridge. Knox, handsome, finish mashing those sweet potatoes... the mini marshmallows are in the upper cabinet. Nora, Drew, take the silverware and napkins and finish setting the dining table."

"On it," Drew muttered, practically leaping at the chance to escape the kitchen.

He grabbed the stack of green linen napkins from the hutch, and I took the silverware caddy, following him into the adjoining dining room.

The dining room was cozy and warm, separated from the kitchen by a wide arched entryway that offered a clear line of sight straight to the stove.

The second Drew reached the mahogany table, he spun around, his face pale and eyes wide.

"Bennett," Drew hissed under his breath, leaning over the table as he dropped the napkins onto the wood. "What in the hell is Knox Sheridan doing in your house?"

"I told you," I whispered back, laying out soup spoons and forks. "He’s my boyfriend."

"He’s the heir to Garrison Sheridan’s real estate empire!" Drew whispered frantically, darting a nervous glance over his shoulder toward the kitchen. "The guy lives in penthouses! He has drivers! He spends his summers in Monaco! And he’s standing in your mother’s kitchen wearing daisies and mashing yams like a domestic house husband!"

"Keep your voice down," I warned, shooting him a razor-sharp glare. "And stop acting like you know him."

Drew blinked, taken aback by my tone. "I know who his father is, Bennett. Everyone in the athletic conference knows the Sheridan name. What is he playing at?"

"He’s not playing at anything," I said fiercely. "Knox is here because he wanted to be with me. Not everything in this world is a publicity stunt or a status symbol, Drew."

Drew frowned. "Nora, come on..."

"You only see the jersey, the draft rankings, and the billionaire last name," I cut him off, holding his gaze. "You don’t know who he is when the cameras are off. You don’t know what kind of heart he has. So do yourself a favor: drop the attitude, eat your turkey, and don’t make this awkward for my mom."

Drew stared at me, his mouth parting slightly in surprise.

Slowly, his gaze drifted past my shoulder, peering through the archway into the kitchen.

Knox was standing over the ceramic bowl of sweet potatoes, working the masher. He was listening to Uncle Hank ramble about snowplow hydraulic lines, nodding with genuine interest, offering thoughtful answers without a single shred of arrogance or impatience.

He didn’t look like a spoiled billionaire slumming it in a small town. He looked grounded... real, and completely at home.

Drew watched him for a long, quiet moment, his jaw tightening into a thin line.

"Right," Drew scoffed under his breath, turning back to me with a skeptical smirk. "Because billionaire playboys are famous for sticking around when things get inconvenient. Keep telling yourself that, Bennett."

My temper flared. "Excuse me?"

"I know guys like Sheridan," Drew said, leaning in. "He’s a shark on the ice, and he’s an even bigger shark off it. Right now, playing house in a small town is cute and exotic to him. But the second conference play heats up, you’re going to realize you’re just another trophy on his shelf."

I stepped right up to the edge of the table. "The only one acting like a bitter jerk right now is you, Drew. Knox doesn’t have an angle. And he doesn’t need to prove anything to you."

"We’ll see about that when State plays Briar in the tournament," Drew muttered. "Let’s see if your golden boy is still smiling when I take the puck right off his stick."

"I’d love to see you try," I whispered coldly.

"Everything all right in here?" a deep, smooth voice rumbled from the archway.

I jumped slightly, turning around to see Knox standing in the doorway.

He had taken off the floral apron, folding it neatly over his arm before setting it down on the entryway bench. In his hands, he carried a woven bread basket lined with a checkered red cloth, piled high with steaming, golden dinner rolls.

He wasn’t glaring, but his broad frame completely filled the arched opening, his gray eyes fixing onto Drew.

Knox walked into the dining room, placed the basket of rolls in the center of the table, and deliberately stepped right between Drew and me.

Without breaking stride, Knox slid a large, warm hand around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. He leaned down and pressed a slow kiss to my temple, letting his lips linger against my skin for several seconds.

"Sweet potatoes are done, sweetheart," he murmured against my hair, his deep voice rumbling against my ribs. "Table looks great."

A delicious shiver rippled down my spine. I leaned comfortably into his solid frame, smiling up into his eyes. "Thanks, Captain."

Drew cleared his throat, suddenly finding the crown molding fascinating. He took a polite step back, busying himself by folding the remaining napkins into neat triangles.

Mom bustled into the dining room a second later, carefully carrying a large ceramic platter holding the golden-brown centerpiece: a beautifully roasted turkey, glistening with rosemary butter and surrounded by roasted garlic cloves.

Hank followed right behind her, carrying two steaming bowls of sage stuffing and creamy mashed potatoes.

"Dinner is served!" Mom announced proudly, setting the turkey in the center of the mahogany table. "Everyone sit, sit! Before everything gets cold!"