“Are you sure this isn’t too much?” I glanced around the kitchen, minorly frantic as I studied the mess that I was creating. Jenna sighed and I rolled my eyes, wiping my hands down my apron.

“You look awesome, I took care of that. Food’s your department, not mine.”

I lifted my apron some, trying to get a better look at what Jenna considered an ideal outfit. I had refused her ideas to serve dinner naked or in lingerie, so she had raided my closet. Her immediate demands had been for us to go shopping, but if I was going to prepare an appropriate dinner by seven there was no way I would have time to shop for an outfit. Troy deserved the thank you for helping me today, and Alex was also well overdue for a thank you for all he had done for me since I had moved in. I was mildly ashamed of myself for not inviting him to dinner prior to this. After groaning over most of my available clothing options, frequently referring to it as ‘mom wear,’ Jenna had finally settled on a blue v-neck tunic that laced up the front and a simple pair of black jeggings. She deemed it casual enough to not be obvious, but cute with a hint of sex appeal. I was simply glad it was comfortable enough to cook in.

I had gone a little bit crazy with the menu I had planned, wanting to show off a little bit. Besides, it was a thank you dinner. It seemed appropriate to go all out for it. I had decided on a southern feast, something I hoped they wouldn’t have very much up here in Pennsylvania. I had been prepping since the moment I got home, and I was more than a little frazzled. “Maybe I should have taken the menu another way,” I mused as I considered my pantry.

“Emily, you’re making fried chicken and mashed potatoes, not fried tarantulas.” Jenna was clearly exasperated, throwing her hands in the air as she paced. “You clearly know none of them are vegetarians since you all had burgers last time.”

“But what if they don’t like fried chicken?” I fretted as I bent down to check on my pie, ensuring it wasn’t bubbling over as it baked.

“Then they can have the mashed potatoes, the mustard greens, the biscuits, the sweet potato pie, or the peach cobbler.” She shoved me slightly, making me stumble as I glared at her. “Seriously, Em, calm down. You look adorable. You’re an incredible cook, it’s all going to work out.” She grabbed her purse from the counter and pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m going to get out of here before they start showing up. Have fun.” She waggled her eyebrows at me in a tease.

“It’s just a thank you!” I called after her and she simply waved a hand in dismissal as she headed out the front.

All right, maybe I was hoping it would end up being a little bit more, but after being pressed body to body against the ripped as hell Troy, I couldn’t exactly hold myself at fault. Any straight, red-blooded woman would have the same reaction. It’s only chemical, I assured myself. I was merely doing something nice for my new friends. I shook my head as I heard the peal of the doorbell. Well, either way, it was too late now.

I shrugged out of my apron, swearing slightly as I realized they were a bit early. I hadn’t had a chance yet to set the table. I could kiss Jenna for insisting I get dressed as soon as my food was in the oven, assuring me an apron would be enough protection and I could spot treat any minor spills, and that it was better I be prepared. I would have to tell her she was right and deal with the gloating later.

I closed my eyes for a moment, praying for confidence before I swung the door open with a smile. All three were assembled on my porch; Max’s grin was brilliant, Alex’s smile was sweet, and even Troy wore a small smirk. “Hey, guys. Come on in.” I stepped back, allowing them to enter and leading them towards the living room. “I’m sorry, I’m still working on dinner.”

“It smells incredible in here.” Max’s eyes were wide as he looked around the living room.

“Don’t worry about that, Emily.” Alex smiled, ruffling his hair slightly. “I know we’re a bit early. Max is right though, it smells incredible.”

I glanced back at the kitchen, fretting slightly. “I’ve got to go change some stuff out of the oven. You’re welcome to hang out in here. I can bring you drinks in a minute.” I bolted for the kitchen, trying to breathe as I did a quick check on my pie, sighing in relief at the color. I slid it from the oven, placing it on a rack to cool before I checked the temperature of my oil. I swore as a drop of oil hit my hand then nearly slapped my forehead. My apron! Jenna would kill me if I got food all over myself. I turned to grab my apron from the hook by the door only to be met by three gaping faces. “Um, drinks, sorry.” I hurried to the fridge, pulling it open to consider the options for them. “I’ve got beer if you’d like it. I made sweet tea. I have soda.” I glanced back when only silence met my suggestions.

“You’re seriously cooking.” Troy stepped forward, considering my kitchen and the pie now cooling on the counter rack.

“Um, yeah.” I glanced back at the oil bubbling on the stove and the chicken I had prepared waiting to be dropped in. My timetable was a little bit off here.

“Can we help?” Alex spoke up. “This seems to have a lot of moving parts, and we don’t want to be in the way.”

“You’ve got two ovens. Why the hell do you need two ovens?” Max sounded completely flummoxed by the idea.

“So I can run different temperatures,” I explained, grabbing my apron quickly, tying it on as I headed back to the stove. I dredged the chicken and placed it into the oil, careful not to spill on myself again. I shot a quick glance at the mustard greens, and then I turned my attention back to the chicken. “Um, I think I’ve got everything under control. I can get you all your drinks if you’d like.”

“Emmie.” The nickname had me freezing, chicken wing in hand, as I turned shocked eyes to Troy. Of all of them to give me a nickname, I hadn’t expected it to come from the gruffly sexy man. “This is way more work than we expected.”

“Definitely. I figured you’d order a pizza, maybe pass some Ragu off as your homemade sauce. I didn’t expect—none of us expected this. What all do you have going?” Max snuck up beside me, considering everything on my stove.

“Fried chicken, obviously,” Troy mused, glancing around the kitchen as I dropped in the last piece and headed to wash my hands. “You have some kind of pie cooling there. What’s the boiling water for?”

“Potatoes.” I pulled the diced potatoes from the bowl in the sink, draining them quickly before tossing them into the water. “I’m sorry guys, I thought I had a little bit longer. Everything will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

“Stop apologizing.” Troy’s command was serious but not harsh. “You’re bending over backward here for us. This is a crazy amount of food and smells amazing. You didn’t have to do all of this. We would have been fine with a pizza.”

I snorted as I scooped biscuit dough onto a cookie sheet. I had debated cutting my biscuits but figured the drop biscuits felt a little warmer, and were something they may not have experienced before. “You’ve obviously never been fed by anyone from the South. I said I was cooking you dinner and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” I was used to tripping over my kids in the kitchen, not three sexy as hell men that I would much rather take a bite of than that pie now cooling.

Although it grated, I needed them out from under my feet and providing a distraction. “If you really want to help, you can set the table for me.” I gestured to the appropriate cabinets as I slid in the biscuits. “I’ve got all this in hand. The chicken and mustard greens will cook a bit more, the biscuits are in now, the pie’s cooling. I’ve just got to drain and mash the potatoes and put the cobbler in to bake while we eat.”

“You made pie and cobbler?” Alex chimed in as he strode over to grab plates down, smiling a little at the cheerful Fiestaware that greeted him when he opened the cupboard. It may not be traditional, but I loved all of the colors and the mismatched, friendly table they created.

“You’ve made half a dozen different things, a full Sunday style dinner.” Troy grabbed glasses down, before pulling the pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge. “This is beyond anything I pictured.” Curious, he studied me as I grabbed a strainer for the potatoes, settling it in the sink and pulling the cobbler from the fridge where I had it resting. “How do you do all of this without injuring yourself? After today, I’m shocked you haven’t burned your kitchen down.”

I choked out a laugh as I pulled the heavy cream and the butter from the fridge. “I still injure myself.” I held out my arms, showing the burn marks and some mild scars from cuts or burns in the past. “I just treat it and keep moving.”

“You’ve got to tell us over dinner what exactly happened today. Troy just sent us the message, rather than explaining exactly what happened to incur an invite to this event.” Alex’s voice was teasing as he moved to grab silverware. Max was considering the pie, as if unable to tear his eyes away, and I shoved him with my hip, garnering his attention and shooing him out of my way.

“Can I help at all?” Max was finally out of his pie daze as I stabbed a potato, checking it’s texture before moving to drain them. It seemed he had realized his friends had completed the table during his distraction.

“You can grab the serving bowls out for me.” I kicked my foot towards a bottom cupboard, swearing slightly when I banged my knee. Alex and Troy hung back in the kitchen, murmuring quietly to each other as I mashed the potatoes with cream and butter, slid the chicken from the oil to drain, and pulled the biscuits from the oven. Max continued hanging over my shoulder, apparently starving as he murmured over every item I did, exclaiming over what he termed the ‘life-changing smells’ and making me giggle while I worked.

Rough hands slid the heavy platter of chicken from my hands and I looked up into candy-apple green eyes as Troy balanced the dish. “You’ve done far more than enough. Let us at least carry for you.” I could only nod as he sent me that incredible smile once again. My throat closed up, my only focus on how gorgeous he was and how I wanted to take a bite of that mouth.

“Uh, thanks.” I moved to put the cobbler in the oven, checking the temperature again and reaching for other bowls that were quickly whisked from my hands by my new helpers. I pulled off the apron, hanging it on its hook before following their chatter down the hall. I hesitated for a moment, seeing all of them there in my little dining room, my table set, platters of food waiting for them to dig in. “Take a seat guys, start filling your plates.” I smiled, gesturing for them to pick whatever seats they wanted. Max stepped forward and pulled a chair out, his smile sweet as he waited for me to sit. I stumbled over my feet, unsure now that everything was set out before them.

“This is...beyond words.” Alex seemed at a loss, studying the quantities of food in front of him. “Everything is beautiful.”

Troy took the lead, dishing up massive quantities of everything and proceeding to fill the other’s plates as well. “It smells delicious.”

“Save room for dessert,” I warned, seeing the mountain of food growing on his plate. I shook my head slightly when he offered to pile mine as well. “I could never eat that much.” A huge chunk had already been taken out of the platters of food, and I knew I’d never finish a plate that large, especially with nerves making my stomach dance as I waited for them to take their first bite.

Alex chuckled. “He does fill the plates quite a bit. We’re always starving after work or after one of his crazy workouts.”

I giggled, picturing my boys, a wave of sadness tugging through as I imagined them plowing through the meal in front of them. “My boys can plow their way through most of this, and Brooke gives them a run for their money when I whip out the full Sunday dinner. I don’t let them fill their plates up quite that high, though.” I winked at Troy who surprised me by laughing, the deep rumble washing over all of us.

Max scooped up a forkful of potatoes, groaning as he swallowed. “Can I just take a bath in these?” He scooped fork after fork in, barely pausing for breath, and I lost it in another fit of giggles.

“Have you always been a good cook?” Alex asked as he bit into the chicken.

I shrugged, a little unsure of how to answer him. “I learned to cook after I had Brooke. Ian didn’t cook at all. I couldn’t afford for us to order anything, and I got sick of cereal after a while.”

“I live on cereal,” Max admitted as he moved onto the chicken, enthusiastic groans following his bite.

“You don’t cook?” It was my turn to stare at him. I guessed his age as late thirties or early forties, and he was still living on cereal? I couldn’t believe it.

“Nope.” He shrugged as though it didn’t matter. My chest tugged a bit and I reached over to put more mashed potatoes on his plate, his sweet smile a reward all on its own. “Alex can’t either unless you count burgers.”

I turned shocked eyes to Alex, whose cheeks had reddened slightly as he ducked his head. “I work a lot,” he explained. “It’s not exactly fun cooking for just myself, so I order out or eat cereal or frozen meals, or the occasional burger on the grill.” I turned my attention to Troy next, wondering if he could at least cook.

“I can’t cook like you,” he admitted, guessing my question before it passed my lips. “I can bake chicken or sear a steak. I can toss together a salad. I can scramble an egg.” He winced for a moment as he looked over at Alex. “Never let them cook breakfast for you. Just a word of warning.” I chuckled, amused as much at whatever led to the warning as I was at the idea of ever having a situation arise where one of them may cook me breakfast. “I steal a lot of stuff from the home ec department.”

“You’re all welcome over here.” I ran through menu ideas in my head, trying to figure out what I could stretch to make extras to send their way. “With the kids gone, I always make too much.”

“Thanks, Emily, but we’re going to be hard-pressed to pay you back for this.” Alex grinned as he scraped the last of the potatoes from his plate.

I scoffed. “You don’t have to repay me for anything. This was a thank you meal.”

It was Troy’s turn to scoff this time. “I worked a splinter from your palm. Alex helped you move a few pieces of furniture. None of that is worth what you’ve put together here.”

“Hold that thought.” I jumped up to go check on my cobbler. I murmured in approval, pulling it from the oven to cool, and headed back into the dining room to see plates refilled and the guys continuing to plow their way through the mountains they were creating.

“Cobbler is out and cooling.”

“What kind of cobbler is it?” Max mumbled through a mouthful of biscuit.

“Peach.” I took my seat again, getting in a few bites myself as I enjoyed watching them. I wasn’t sure about others, but for me, I drew greater pleasure from seeing my food enjoyed than from actually cooking it.

“I’m going to be fifty pounds heavier with you in my life.” Max pretended to pout.

“I’ll just make your workouts harder,” Troy replied, causing Max to roll his eyes. “You can’t avoid the conversation, Emmie.” My heart beat harder at the nickname, a slightly foolish grin curving my lips. “This is way too much.”

“It’s what friends do,” I retorted. Troy snorted and continued to eat. “We can turn on ESPN when you’re done eating,” I offered. “I can dish up the pie and the cobbler, maybe make some coffee?”

“I’d love some coffee. That sounds amazing.” Alex pushed his plate back with a sigh, resting his hand on his stomach. “I think that may have been the best meal I’ve ever eaten.” I shook my head, but my smile was wide.

“There’s not much left over.” I considered the platters that were nearly clear. “I can box it up so that you can take it with you. The pie and the cobbler too, if you’d like.”

“I sure wouldn’t turn it down.” Max sighed in contentment. Troy murmured his own agreement. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face, the clear platters a sign of success. I moved to the kitchen, humming to myself as I pulled down dessert plates. Clinking behind me had me whirling, cutting off in the middle of a song to find three chuckling men balancing plates, glasses, and platters. “You’re a bit tone deaf, Em,” Max called out as he began rinsing plates at the sink.

“We may not have cooking experience, but we’ve all done kitchen work,” Alex explained as I gawked as they efficiently scraped, rinsed, and stacked dishes around me.

I shook myself, moving back to my plating, only to be nudged aside by a broad shoulder. “We’ve got this.” Troy’s lightening smile struck again.

I hesitated for a moment, unused to a helper—let alone three sexy ones—in my space. However, if they were offering… “All right.” I couldn’t keep the hesitation from my voice, but the smile was warm and genuine at how sweet they were. “I can get dessert ready while you’re doing that then.”

I went to slice the pie and a warm hand closed over my own. Max’s chin rested on my shoulder and he grinned at me, his blue eyes brilliant, framed by long, dark lashes, close enough to me now that I could see the slight dimple in his cheek and a small scar across the bridge of his nose. I forgot how to breathe for a moment, lost in the brilliant eyes full of laughter and warmth, pausing in my slicing. “Make it bigger.” He slid the knife further, widening his slice.

Bad, bad brain—I focused on the pie and not slicing myself rather than responding to what could have been a perfect innuendo. “Hungry, are you?” Whoops. Apparently, my tongue was going to respond even when my brain told it not to. His eyes flared for a moment, and it looked almost as if his gaze locked on my mouth before he turned his focus to the pie as well. I really needed to get some relief soon. I was going to start seeing George Clooney attracted to me at this rate. Max pulled away and I breathed deeply, already missing his warmth. I slid plates full of pie and cobbler towards Alex and Max.

Troy arched an eyebrow at me. “I don’t rate dessert?” He queried, hands still full rinsing dishes. I paused for a moment, second-guessing myself before I moved to the pantry. I pulled the small cheese plate I had made up with brie, grapes, sliced peaches, and mixed nuts and turned to face Troy. He simply stared, his hands still covered in soap, the water running heedlessly down the drain.

“You said you didn’t really care for sweets,” I explained as the silent room seemed to echo with my pounding heartbeat, my hands nearly bobbling the cheese tray.

“You really went all out for tonight.” Alex broke the silence, setting aside the pie he had just claimed to take the tray from my hands.

“Thank you dinner,” I emphasized the words.

“This was more than a thank you dinner.” I caught a look between the guys before Max turned back to me. “I know your kids are gone for the next few months.” I tried not to wince at that reminder. “This thank you dinner was far, far more extravagant than any of us expected.” Troy and Alex murmured their agreement. Troy rinsed his hands, drying them against the tea towel I hung on the stove as he meandered over to inspect the cheese plate in Alex’s hands, allowing their friend to continue to speak. “Next weekend we’re all going to an amusement park. It’s about a two and a half hour drive, and we’re going to stay the weekend. Would you want to come with us?”

I froze for a moment, unsure. Were they inviting me because they pitied me, or because they actually thought it would be fun? Was it just an invitation because they were grateful for dinner and felt that they had to repay me in some way? If I did go, would I be staying with them? My mind was spinning as I stuttered, cursing myself for my inability to be articulate in person, that skill limited solely to my computer screen.

“We planned on inviting you before dinner tonight.” Alex jumped in, sensing my hesitation. “We’ve had a great time at the last few games we’ve watched, and we thought this may be something fun you’d enjoy as well. Get you away from the computer screen for a while.” He passed the fruit tray to Troy, dusting off his hands as he faced me. “We have connected rooms, and if you’ll come, one of us will use the pull out in the spare room. You won’t have to share with us.”

“I wouldn’t like the idea of kicking you out of your beds.” I still hesitated, unsure.

Troy simply snorted, tossing nuts into the air to catch in his mouth, even throwing a grape at Max who caught it with practiced ease. “We get two rooms due to reward points, but we usually end up in just one anyhow. A full day at the park and we’re all exhausted anyhow and usually just crash wherever we land in the one.”

I hesitated only a moment longer before I smiled brightly at the three. “It sounds like fun. I’d love to come.”

Max punched a fist up in the air. “Yesh!” The word was muddled due to the mouthful of pie he had and I laughed.

“All right, guys. You about ready for the game?” I tossed my head towards the living room and was met with another cheer by Max.

“I guess it’s our turn to root for the devil,” Troy muttered. These guys were so easy to like, so much fun to be around. Even grumpy Troy was wearing a smirk, still snacking on the cheese plate with apparent enjoyment. I could only smile as I watched them enjoy my food and goof around, feeling content and calm, a sensation that I had missed for years. It was nice to finally have friends again.