“Love you too, peanut.” I set the boxes down on a small clear section of countertop then wrapped an arm around my cousin. “What’s with all this favorite talk? Do you know your mom just proclaimed that Indy’s her favorite?”
Sabrina snorted. “So far Wyatt, Fliss, Maddie, and Logan are her favorites too. She’s picking a favorite with every new addition and giving them a lecture about drama.”
“I just want a happy, drama-free holiday for a change,” Aunt Wendy proclaimed as she entered the kitchen and stacked the dessert boxes she’d liberated from Indy onto mine. “Is that too much to ask?”
“No, ma’am,” we said in unison.
“Good.” She harrumphed. “Dylan, go get that girl of yours something to drink. She looks like she’s going to keel over with nerves.”
“She’s underaged, and she drove here,” I protested.
“Oh bullshit. Like you all weren’t drinking and partying in your teens. Don’t be a prude. Get the girl a drink and go be the charming bastard we all know you to be.”
I frowned. “Weren’t you the one who told me I had to let her stand on her own two feet? That she needed to know she could take care of herself? I’m getting whiplash here. You told me to kick her out, and now you’re throwing me at her?”
“Just because Indy needs to be able to be her own adult doesn’t mean you can’t date. The two aren’t mutually exclusive. Anyone with half a brain can see how much you two like each other. Don’t let her slip through your fingers because you’re so busy doing the right thing.”
My head ached trying to follow her logic. I sent Sabrina a confused look, but she was nodding emphatically too.
“Yeah, Dyl. Don’t be stupid.” Sabrina giggled then reached for her empty wineglass.
Right. That solved that little mystery. Clearly Indy and I were way behind on the drink count.
But when I entered the living room, I found Indy sitting on the couch between Hope and Maddie with a wineglass in her hand. Make that just me who was behind.
I crossed the room and accepted a beer from Ryan then stood on the sidelines as my whole family fell more in love with my girl. She talked and joked around with the girls, helped Aunt Wendy in the kitchen, and played with tiny cars with the kids when they started to get restless waiting for dinner.
“She is fucking fantastic,” Austin muttered to me as we hauled food to the table.
I sighed. “You don’t have to sell me on the wonders of Indigo Evans. I’m the one who found her, remember?”
“Yeah, about that.” Austin set the mashed potatoes down then raised his eyebrows at me. “I forgot to tell you that back before all the bullshit with our fathers hit the fan she told me the real story about you two.”
I ducked my head and shoved a spoon into the green beans. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“About the night you two met—who really tagged the side of the shop…?”
“And?” I turned and squared up to my brother. “I didn’t lie. She started the mural, I finished it. She painted the cats and the piss and most of the text, but I was the one who made it personal.”
“Pretty sure she did that by painting on the side of the shop.”
I shrugged. “I turned it into an ode tomygreed. Hers was subtle. Mine was not.”
“Right.” Austin sighed. “Regardless, I wish it’d been you who told me.”
“I didn’t want you to be an ass to her. She was wounded and going through shit.”
“And you liked her even then.”
My skin felt itchy, and the feeling only worsened when Indy approached the table holding Wyatt’s and Fliss’ hands. Then Austin socked me in the stomach, and I contorted, pressing a hand on my aching abs. “What the fuck?”
“Suck it up, buttercup. Don’t be walking around with those wounded doe eyes. You’re so fucking obvious. You gotta play this just right.”
“Dylan, you sit here,” Aunt Wendy yelled over the chaos of everyone entering the dining room. “And Indy you’re right here.” She pulled out the chair next to my designated seat.
“Or you can just go with Aunt Wendy’s super obvious gameplan.” He laughed and patted me on the back. “Good luck with that.”
We all moved around the table to our seats, although Indy and I seemed to be the only ones with assigned seats. Oh wait, Fliss had her highchair.
