“It could be the mustache,” his fiancée says to him, which makes Miranda snort.
Holt looks at me again.
I shake my head again too.
It’s clear the questions are coming. But we have to make it through today without him blowing it so I can make a plan and fix this.
I have to make sure my dad doesn’t kill him.
The woman scoots closer to Jessica and scratches her head. “Mrs. Keating, Fletcher didn’t tell me your other daughter had started working for the team too.”
“Dad hasn’t made the announcement yet,” Miranda says. “This is Ziggy. She hates favoritism and wouldn’t be here except he begged her since she’s so good with food and wine and he wants to show Copper Valley’s other team owners that we’re the best.”
“Lovely to meet you, Ziggy.” The woman flicks another glance at me, her eyes narrowing slightly like she recognizes me too. “I’m Goldie. I don’t play. But this is Fletcher and Holt. They do.”
Goldie.
Has Abby Nora mentioned a Goldie?
“I play,” Fletcher says. “Captain, not so much.”
“You’re not a Keating,” Holt says to me.
I freeze.
Mom straightens.
Fletcher and Goldie both look at me, and Fletcher says a long, “Oooooooh,” that earns him a look from Goldie that I interpret to mean Holt’s already told them we’re going to see a movie together, and Goldie put together much faster that this situation is bad.
I know her.
How do I know her?
“Nice eyes spotting Ziggy’s new nameplate on her office, Captain,” Miranda says. “She never changed her name after her mom married my dad, but we don’t really do the step-thing because family’s family, you know?”
He stares at her for a minute, then looks at Fletcher. “Lunch time.”
Like that’s not the most awkward answer to Miranda’s family explanation.
Oh god.
Oh god oh god oh god.
I told him my parents have Naked Tuesdays.
He knows my parents have Naked Tuesdays.
I almost choke on my own horror. They’d be mortified if they found out one of their players knew. And what if he casually mentioned it to the rest of the team?
I have a house sitter because I took pity on this pregnant woman who would’ve been stuck living through Naked Tuesdays at her parents’ house if I hadn’t.
Am I whimpering out loud or is that just in my head?
Goldie rises. “Definitely lunchtime. Can’t heal if we don’t feed you well.”
“How’s your foot doing, Holt?” Mom asks.
“Getting there.”
