Unfortunately, I was working exclusively with Bulletproof at the time, so they’re all big and brightly colored. I’ve had my fair share of Kool-Aid colors in my life, so I ran with it, but when I show up to the giant house Gabe and his teammates live in, I feel horribly out of place.
The house is filled with professional athletes and their wives and girlfriends, whom even Joss is struggling to fit in with despite having been an actual beauty queen. Here I am, massively pregnant and wearing a bikini under my sundress because it was cheaper than getting a maternity suit. My hair is silver pigtails that are going to drag in the hot tub. I wanted to wear the single blonde wig I have, but it doesn’t have bangs and a giant pimple erupted on my forehead while I was dealing with Emerson.
That’s the bad luck side of me.
I park a couple houses down, and if my car wasn’t so far away, I think I’d turn right back around the moment I reachedthe house and saw a gorgeous redhead and a tall, dark-haired beauty at one of the cars. I have to remind myself that I promised Joss I’d be here and she threatened to send one of the guys to come get me if I didn’t show.
Blaise Sinclair, of all people. The star quarterback. Supposedly fucking crazy. Stupid hot, but I don’t go for trouble anymore. Not that he’d go for me, either. I don’t follow the personal lives of football players, but I’m betting all the quarterbacks are with tall, blonde supermodels.
Jitters I haven’t felt since the first day of high school, walking into a cafeteria at lunch time with no idea where to sit because none of my middle school friends had the same lunch period as me, fill my stomach. I consider swinging wide of the two beautiful women — not blonde, only one of them tall, but they could both be supermodels — and heading straight for the door, just pretending I don’t see them at all. But then I realize I don’t even know if this is the sort of place where you need to knock first. It’s a home, and I’ve never been here before and only know Gabe, but Joss describes it like a frat house. I think the party’s in the backyard, so I don’t even know that anyone would hear if I knocked.
I’m saved from my own incompetence by one of the women yelling, “Ooh, are you Tilly?”
I freeze, full-on deer in the headlights, staring at them.
“Oh, I shouldn’t have assumed that. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re right. I’m Tilly.”
She gives a huff of relief as she jogs to me, reaching her arm out to shake my hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you! I’m Wren. I’m—”
“Oh, you’re the dancer!” Joss has mentioned her before. She lives in Salem, which is about an hour away, but she justhad a son with the kicker this past fall. Joss thought it’d be good if I had a friend who was also a boy mom.
Wren’s jaw drops, and she screams over her shoulder, “Did you hear that, Keira? I’m the dancer again!”
I blush, mortified. “I’m sorry, was that wrong?”
She gives me a giant hug. “You are the sweetest thing ever. I love Lin to death, but I’m so tired of having to introduce myself as ‘Huang’s wife.’ These football boys are going to be all over you, but you stay away from them or you’ll lose your identity, okay?”
She says it so seriously that I nod, but I’m not at any risk.
Or maybe I am at risk.
I’m not sure if the team has a thing for pregnant chicks or if it’s because of the recent wave of pregnancies sweeping over them — Keira also had a baby last year, and both hers and Wren’s are being babysat by Dom and Cadence Morales, who have a little one about the same age as Keira’s — but all eyes are on me the moment I take my dress off. Despite the late hour, the backyard is lit enough that when I run an experiment and scratch my belly with my left hand, I can see several pairs of eyes go to the gesture and narrow in.
They’re not looking at my belly. No one needs to squint to see that. They’re looking at my bare ring finger. And they’re pleased about that.
I’m not the only one who notices. Wren points an angry finger at the men and hisses, “You idiots, keep it in your pants,” while Keira hooks her arm in mine and drags me toward the hot tub, where Joss, Gabe, and Cora are.
“I found your friend!” Keira tells Joss with a layer of pep that seems unnecessary until it clicks that Keira is the cheerleader who’s married to Evan Allore. They’re both locals, went to high school and college in Wilmington, very much the town’s darlings. There was also some bad blood between her and Joss at the beginning of the season; Keira pulled some mean girl shit with her. She’s apologized and they’re friendly now, but I have a feeling that’s why she’s forcing some extra pep. Evan and Gabe are friends. She almost ruined that friendship.
Joss beams at me. I’ve already heard today was rough. So seeing her smile like that makes me happy I came to the party. Next to her, Gabe gestures at the tub. “Come on, get in!”
“Oh, uhh . . .” I grimace. The tub is nearly full. There’s only one seat left, and it’s next to Evan, the crimson-Mohawked safety, so I’m guessing it’s Keira’s. It’s not that big of a deal, though. When I pointed out that March isn’t exactly pool party season, Joss promised that the pool’s heated, and they even rented a bunch of those big outdoor heaters. It’s like summer here.
I’m about to say that I’m gonna go do some cannonballs, see what I can do with a baby on board, but then Keira says, “Evan, get out! Sheneedsthe hot tub.”
Evan doesn’t question it for a second. He doesn’t even point out that technically, Keira’s already out of the tub, so it makes more sense for her to offer me her seat. He just hops right over the side of the tub and offers to get me a soda.
There’s a round of introductions, too many people for me to remember if I don’t already have a reference for them. It’s my first time meeting Merrick Briggs, whom I once said was fuckable, but that was when I never thought I’d be in a hot tub with him. I’ve since heard enough about him that I’m definitelyno longer interested. He’s hot, but he’s kind of a dick. And I know that he and Cora have hooked up at least twice now, although she’s sitting across from him, next to Wes Foster.
Wes Foster is nice. Kind of boring, bit of a white bread sort of dude, but Cora has a big, exciting, high-pressure life as a major fashion designer. If she’s in the market for anything serious, she needs a guy she can bowl over. That’s Wes.
But when Wes puts a casual arm around Cora — not even around her, just across the back of the hot tub where she’s sitting — the look Merrick gives him is enough to make me worried about Wes’s safety. Thankfully, they’re both wide receivers, smaller than a lot of the guys here. If Merrick did do something crazy, there’s an entire team of bouncers to break it up.
I don’t feel like Merrick takes people down with his fists, though.
Hmm.
