Stallion Magic - Deborah Fletcher Mello The Stallions

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funeral?”

      “My mother and his mother went to the same church. I took mama to the funeral.”

      There was a pregnant pause as Catherine fell into her own thoughts, staring back out the window. “I think I might go to the class reunion after all,” she finally noted.

      Camille laughed again, the hearty snicker ringing loudly through the receiver. “You liked what you saw, didn’t you?”

      Catherine laughed with her. “He’s all right.”

      “Girl, you know that man is foine! So are his brothers.”

      “You ever date any of them?”

      “No, I never dated Noah.”

      “I said any of them...”

      “You meant Noah.”

      “Goodbye, Camille!”

      “Are you flying back to New York or will you be in town for a while longer?”

      “I’m boarding a plane in thirty minutes. I’ve got tickets to the theater tomorrow, so I’m headed home.”

      “You have a dozen homes. It’s hard to keep up!”

      Catherine smiled. “I’ve got to go.”

      “You do that,” Camille said, still giggling. “And you might want to call Crystal. I think she might have gone out with him,” she said as she disconnected the line.

      As the call went dead, Catherine shook her head. Friends since the crib, she, Camille and Crystal had cheered together in high school. They’d been joined at the hip and had been dubbed the Three Cs by their classmates. Catherine thought of Camille and Crystal as the sisters she’d never had and trusted them both with everything. There’d been a code of conduct they’d established early in their history, rules they lived by. No dating men the others had dated being one of them.

      With a deep breath, she pushed the speed dial for Crystal Baxter, the other leg in their trio. As the device rang in Catherine’s ear she wished a silent prayer that she, too, had never dated the likes of Noah Stallion.

       Chapter 2

      The day had been a long one, and when Noah pulled up to his Arlington Drive home, he wasn’t expecting to see his brother’s Jaguar sitting in front of his garage door. Inside the house, the television was blaring Monday-night football on his big-screen television. Voices echoed from the kitchen, and the smell of freshly fried chicken permeated the air. Moving into the space, he saw his two brothers standing at the kitchen counter. The Stallion bloodline ran deep and there was no denying their kinship. They each had the same rugged good looks, their features chiseled and their eyes haunting. Their complexions were a warm caramel brown, each looking as if they belonged to each other.

      “Howdy, big brother,” Nicholas Stallion greeted.

      Nathaniel Stallion waved a hand in Noah’s direction.

      “Hey, what are you two doing here?” he questioned. He dropped his keys, badge, and gun to the countertop.

      The two men cut an eye at each other both shrugging their broad shoulders.

      Noah looked from one to the other then shook his head. “And you’re cooking. It must be serious!”

      “It’s not,” Nicholas chimed.

      “It is,” Nathaniel quipped.

      Noah shook his head. “Let me grab a shower and unwind before you two hit me with any bad news,” he said as he turned in the direction of his bedroom.

      “Dinner should be ready in thirty,” Nicholas called out as he checked on the meat in the deep fryer.

      As Noah made his exit, the two brothers started to bicker, their muffled voices echoing in the distance. He couldn’t help but smile. When the duo had been younger, he would always have to intervene and mediate their disagreements. Despite their respective ages, some things never changed.

      Some minutes later Noah felt like a new man. Showered and refreshed he moved back to his family room. The kitchen table was set for three, and Nick was filling oversized mason jars with ice and lemonade.

      “Hey, do you remember Catherine Moore from high school?” Noah asked, interrupting the conversation the two men were having. “She was a cheerleader.”

      Both men paused, eyeing Noah then each other.

      “She was the head cheerleader,” Nathaniel said. “And she was dating some college frat boy, wasn’t she?”

      “She was a snob!” Nicholas interjected. “Her folks had money. Big money, and she wouldn’t look in our direction if I remember correctly.”

      “You were a freshman. No one looked in your direction,” Noah wisecracked.

      Nathaniel laughed. “Didn’t you have a crush on her? One of those hiding in the bushes, stalkerlike crushes?”

      Noah rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

      “Oh, yes, it was. She was popular and pretty and you had absolutely no game.”

      “He still doesn’t,” Nicholas said with a deep laugh.

      Noah reached for the platter of cornbread, not bothering to respond.

      “So, why are you asking about Catherine Moore?” Nicholas questioned, filling his own plate with string beans.

      Noah shrugged. “No reason. I just ran into her today at my interview. She owns the company.”

      “That’s right!” Nathaniel exclaimed. “How’d that go?”

      “They offered me the job with a nice six-figure salary.”

      “Congratulations!” both brothers chimed in unison.

      “Still not sure I’m going to take it, though.”

      “Why not?” Nicholas questioned.

      Noah paused. The day after high school graduation he’d enlisted in the US Army. There had been no money saved for him for college and he was determined to get a degree. Back then he saw the military as a means to an end. He’d given Uncle Sam twelve years then had earned a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. Joining the Salt Lake City police department had been a natural progression and since then he’d risen nicely through the ranks. He was now the lead detective in the criminal investigations unit and despite the gravity of some of his cases, he liked what he did. He wasn’t sure he was ready to let it go.

      He didn’t bother to answer his brother’s question, deciding to change the subject instead. “So, when are you two going to tell me why you’re here and not in Los Angeles?”

      Nicholas sighed. “It’s really nothing.”

      “No, it’s something,” Nathaniel said. He turned his gaze toward Noah. “Nicholas took a bad hit in the game the other week and he bruised his back again. He also damaged his knee.”

      “The one he fractured before?”

      Nathaniel nodded. “At this point he needs to think about his future. As his orthopedic specialist it’s my recommendation that he retire.”

      Nicholas pounded a fist against the table. “I’m not retiring and I would appreciate it if you two didn’t talk about me like I wasn’t in the room.”

      “If you continue to play football, you risk doing some major damage that you’re not going to be able to come back from. Another hit like last week and you may never walk again. That’s your reality and I don’t think you understand that,” Nathaniel snapped.

      Nicholas shrugged.

      Nathaniel threw up his hands in frustration.

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