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“Close enough these days,” he said, pulling a beer from the fridge and popping it open.
“Well I’m here, you gonna let me enjoy it or keep treating me like a damn sideshow act all day?”
“Definitely both.”
“Fucker,” I said under my breath.
“Heard Mason invited Eryn Blake and her friends.”
“Mmhmm.”
“That have anything to do with why you’re here?”
“Nope.”
“Right. So you wouldn’t happen to care that Gran is on her way over in her Sunday best.”
“Goddammit.”
Our Gran was a spitfire and I loved her to death. But she clung to the fact that before she’d married a rancher and settled here in Whittier, she’d been in show business. Any chance she got to meet someone famous or perform in some way, she took it and ran with it. She was gonna latch onto Eryn and Skylar like a leech.
“Hundred bucks says she performs “New York, New York” by the end of the night.”
“I’m not taking that bet.”
“Come on, don’t you think it’d impress your new girlfriend?”
I wrapped his neck in a headlock and proceeded to play-punch the shit out of him.
“My fuckin’ hair!” was all he yammered on about.
“Boys, have you any sort of manners? I swear I didn’t raise you in the stables.” As she often did, Mama appeared out of thin air to admonish us and we both stood up straight and apologized. “Heathens, the both of you.”
Gran popped up behind her. She wore a lime green pantsuit with a floral sash instead of a belt. Her short gray hair was pinned back with a flower. Dangly earrings hung low on her ears, jingling each time she moved her head. Walker was right, she’d really gone all out.
“Oh hush, Sharon, they’re just being men. They have no sense of the fairer sex.”
“Hey, I think you’re insulting us, Gran,” Walker said.
She winked. “Would you look at that, some sense after all.” Gran waltzed toward the back door and Mama followed, shaking her head.
The moment they made it outside, Walker punched my arm and I retaliated by body checking him into the wall.
Some things never changed.
Walker gestured with his head. “Come on, let’s go find a place to sit. All the good spots are probably already taken.”
We ended up at a picnic table toward the back tree line. A few empty bottles littered the tabletop, evidence of a good time had by whoever had been there before we claimed the spot. The shade from the surrounding trees cast dappled patterns on the wooden surface as we settled in, letting out twin sighs of contentment.
“Nice choice,” Walker remarked, nodding at the view of the yard from our secluded corner. “Good vantage point for people-watching.”
I grunted in agreement, scanning the crowd milling around Mason's backyard. Laughter and chatter floated through the air, and while I wasn’t exactly comfortable, I could admit that it was pretty nice.
A few minutes later, I looked up on the deck and caught the door opening. I saw Zaya first, leading the way with a confident smile, her brown skin glowing golden in the sunlight. Enzo followed, wearing some kind of tailored designer shirt, the kind that had no business being within thirty feet of barbecue sauce. Skylar trailed behind them, her laugh carrying easily over the din.
I told myself I wasn’t sitting there waiting for—watching for—Eryn, but that was a blatant fucking lie. The moment she walked through the sliding glass door, my chest did that stupid fluttering thing again.
The group headed over to the grill, where Mason now stood with his dad. Mason greeted each of them, giving Eryn a quick hug that I mentally noted I’d give him shit for later. I watched him introduce them all to his dad, who smiled wider than I’d ever seen when he shook Eryn’s hand. I watched her return his smile, warmly and genuinely. She said something that made him laugh so hard he grabbed his belly.
