His light touch was a friendly gesture, nothing more. Yet his warmth seeped through her shirt. “Lead the way.”
“Wes is out on the patio.”
The backyard was huge with a large manicured lawn. Small white bulb lights were strung across the patio which had both an outdoor kitchen and a firepit.
Wes Lockhart, whom she recognized from a photograph, stood next to a man and woman. The three appeared to be having a serious conversation. A sudden laugh transformed Wes’s rugged features into movie-star attractiveness.
“Hey, guys,” Blaise said to his friends. “I want you to meet Hadley. She’s watching the game with us.”
As they glanced her way, she smiled. “Hi.”
“Nice to meet you, Hadley. I’m Wes.” The man oozed charm. He was handsome with short brown hair and an easy smile. The lines at the corners of his eyes suggested he was a few years older than Blaise. “Are you a Seattle fan?”
“No,” she admitted. “I’m a San Francisco diehard.”
Wes placed his hand over his heart, staggered back a step, and glared at Blaise. “You invited her knowing this?”
Blaise grinned. “A blue-and-green love fest would be boring.”
“Boring is my new favorite MO,” Wes countered.
Interesting. Hadley wouldn’t have expected him to say that from her research. Wes Lockhart had a cutthroat reputation. At least two articles suggested he was also an adrenaline-chasing sometimes-player, who made the most of his money, family connections, and free time. Maybe to counter that, he was a fan of “Netflix and chill.”
“I’m Brett. Nice to meet you.” A handsome man with dark hair and a trimmed beard shook her hand. “Don’t mind Wes. He wants to be the twelfth man on the field, which means one day he’ll buy the team or try to.”
“I’d rather bring an expansion team to Portland,” Wes chimed in. “The Rose City needs our own franchise.”
Okay, this was a whole other level to what she was used to. Hadley and her friends talked about buying tickets to a game, not an entire team.
Brett raised his glass. “I’ll be the first to sign up for a skybox.”
“Boys and their football.” A beautiful woman with caramel-colored hair rolled her eyes. “I’m Laurel. Forget what Wes said about your team. I root for Chicago, and they haven’t kicked me out yet.”
“Thanks.” Hadley noticed Blaise had been quiet. “What team is your favorite?”
“Whichever is winning,” he deadpanned.
The other two men laughed.
Wes shook his head. “Leave it to Mortenson. Losing isn’t in his vocabulary.”
A good thing his friends recognized that. Maybe they would understand why Blaise wanted her to find them wives.
Laurel eyed Hadley curiously. “So how did you and Blaise meet?”
Hadley’s mind went blank. A chill shot through her.
“Henry,” Blaise answered.
Nice save, but Hadley didn’t want to have to answer questions about them. Especially not in front of Wes. “Blaise told me you’re his interior designer. It’s lovely.”
“Thanks.” Laurel beamed. “I’m happy how the project turned out.”
“And I’m thrilled how you turned the house into a home,” Blaise chimed in. “I hope business is going well.”
“Better than I hoped, but I’m trying to limit projects. My focus is Brett and Noelle.”
Brett placed his arm around Laurel. “Until we have another.”
