“We’re playin’ rummy,” Chelsea noted.
Reilly grinned. “Oh. Well, I’m even better than I thought.”
Brady couldn’t help but laugh. The woman was absolutely fucking adorable, and he wasn’t the only one who thought so. Her entire family adored her. Hell, everyone who knew her did. She always had a sassy quip ready, and she rarely took life too seriously. He appreciated that about her. It made him feel young simply being in her presence.
Deborah came in a minute later, sliding plates in front of them.
“Tate! Food’s ready!” Reilly shouted.
Tate strolled in with a grin as he stared at the enormous tortilla shell bowl of lettuce piled high with ground beef, refried beans, shredded cheese, and diced tomatoes. All drenched in Tate’s favorite: jalapeño ranch dressing.
“Mama, can I have salad, too?” Reilly asked, eyeballing Tate’s food.
When she reached to dip her finger in his dressing, Tate poked her with his fork.
“You already stole my croissant.”
“You shouldn’t let that douchebag come to our house,” she retorted, her voice low.
“What douchebag are we talkin’ about?” Chelsea asked, glancing between them.
Everyone chimed in at the same time with, “Ben. The lyin’, cheatin’ whore.”
Tate’s gaze slid from one face to the next, and Brady noticed his cheeks turning pink.
Donovan leaned around Reilly to pin Tate with a glare. “Why’s he comin’ around?”
Tate sighed. “Thanks, Rye.”
“No problem.”
“He’s not comin’ around,” Tate replied, not looking at Donovan. “He showed up unannounced. Wanted to take me out for my birthday.”
Donovan wasn’t finished glaring at him.
Brady sat back, amused as always that Donovan was as protective of Tate as he was of Reilly. Had been the case for years. At least from the time Tate moved into the Jamesons’ house after his mother kicked him out when he was seventeen.
“Don’t worry,” Tate added. “Reilly threatened to kick his ass.”
“I’ll do it, too. And twice on Sunday,” she said, looking down at her cards.
Brady loved how fiercely loyal and protective she was.
“And I’ll help,” Donovan grumbled, rubbing his knuckles on Reilly’s head. “Can’t let you have all the fun.”
“Reilly’s a badass,” Stone joked as he pulled up a chair at the table. “But someone might wanna warn him D’s gunnin’ for him.”
Brady was looking at Reilly, so he noticed her little crooked smirk and the way her eyebrow quirked. It was one of her many tells. Or, more accurately, a sign that she was up to something.
And that was never good.
He received confirmation a second later when she looked at him and winked.
***
Donovan Jameson sat back in his dad’srecliner and listened to the ruckus echoing through his parents’ house. It had been like this since he walked in nearly three hours ago. Through the meal, then as they opened their gifts, and finally when they lit the candles on all three cakes—a tradition his mother insisted on—and sang their off-key rendition of Happy Birthday.
The only difference between then and now was that his aunts and uncles had left. Everyone else was still there, just hanging out.
