"They’d be proud of you, Sloan," I said, holding his gaze as I spoke, meaning every word.
He nodded and gripped my hand as we followed the guys outside.
"Goodness," I said when we stepped out of the house and into the back.
There were more people out here—I'd guess these were the wives, girlfriends, husbands, and partners of the team.
The entire acreage was huge, but there was also a smaller patch of grass and a stone patio that wrapped around the house. On that patch of grass were tables with citronella candles and chairs covered with cream-colored cloth. Slightly darker beige bows wrapped around the backs of those chairs. A buffet table with two types of brisket, multiple types of ribs, and then skewers of roasted vegetables out the nose.
And an ice sculpture of Sloan that one guy used as a vodka luge for martinis.
With the accidental marriage, et cetera, I thought I'd had enough surprises for a lifetime. Turned out there was always room for an ice sculpture surprise.
"Darius may be a linebacker, but he also loves to throw a party," Sloan said.
Another guy—they were all blending together at that point—approached Sloan for a complicated handshake thing. "This is lit. Our little bachelor is all married, and she's not made of plastic."
"Maya, this asshole is T.J.," Sloan said. "His hobbies include fumbling the ball and making me look good just by standing there being his ugly-ass self."
"Guilty as charged." T.J. grinned a lopsided smile and gave me a salute instead of shaking my hand.
That was interesting. I saluted him right back.
"I take it he's one of your close friends?" I asked, given that Sloan had called him an asshole and all, but he did it with a smile.
"Damn straight," T.J. replied for Sloan.
"Ensuring I understand the dynamics." I lifted my shoulder.
"And that's what is making you an excellent wifey for Stevens." T.J. laughed like I'd told a joke.
His laugh was infectious, and I couldn't help but chuckle.
"That and the fact that now you have a shot at being Denver's most eligible bachelor," I said with a slow, sly smile.
"I like her, man. Good pick." T.J. winked at me.
"I have a question for you," Sloan said to his friend. "Did anyone even try to tell Darius this party's a bit much? Suggest something less flashy?"
"No," T.J. answered way too quickly. "Not when we all wanted to support you. See, the team is like a new jockstrap, Maya. Once we're in place, there's no stopping us from supporting what really matters."
Sloan rolled his eyes and gestured to the party. "None of you could've given me the slightest heads-up about this?"
T.J. thought for a moment. "Nope."
“You had time to get a balloon banner and an ice sculpture, but not to send a quick text? 'Hey. Sloan! Prepare for the invasion?' Nothing like that?"
"Right, right." T.J. nodded. "And you couldn't have given us the slightest heads-up you were getting married? 'Hey, guys! Prepare to meet my new wife.' Nothing like that?"
"You know what? I'm going to check out the food," I said. "Leave you two to chat this out."
I headed to the table to leave the guys to talk, loading my plate when movement at the door to the backyard caught my eye.
Finn strode through like he was ready for some serious barbecue.
Then Elliott followed, and he didn't look like he was ready to be a jockstrap kind of friend.
I didn't know who the third guy was—thin, wiry, and balding, wearing a Stallions windbreaker. But with the way everyone went quiet? He was important.
