Randy glanced down at the box. “I did. Why?”
“That looks great. You don’t even want to see my package.” Hutchens grimaced. “Looks like, well, looks like it was found next to a dumpster. I bought a bag and stuffed crumpled paper in the top, but it didn’t turn out anything like any of the gift bags I’ve received. It’s not as simple as people make that look.”
“It’s the thought that counts. Besides, why do men have to go to baby showers nowadays? What are we supposed to do at one?”
“Bring presents and hopefully drink some beer. There better be beer.”
“If Caldwell wasn’t such a good guy, there’d be no way I’d go to this,” Randy said.
“You, me, and at least six others I can think of,” Hutchens said with a snicker.
But despite the grumbling, no one else had bailed either. There were cars parked up and down the block.
“Did this many people even go to their wedding?” Hutchens climbed out of his car and grabbed his package.
Randy tried not to laugh at Hutchens’s gift. He hadn’t exaggerated. It was a mess! “Don’t know. I was working.”
“Lucky you, but this time, buddy, your luck ran out. Come on. We’re going in.”
It’stheirluck running out with the looks of that gift bag. Hope Tess is one of the it’s-the-thought-that-counts believers.
Inside the house, every room was crowded. There had to besome kind of fire code being broken with all these people piled into one place.
As Randy walked past the living room, he saw the very pregnant Tess with a plate of food resting on her uncomfortably large belly. The high-pitched chatter coming from that room made his ears ache.
Thank goodness, the closer they got to the kitchen, the conversation carried a lot more bass. Giggles were replaced with grunts and high-fives. Much more his speed.
“I see the beer,” Hutchens said. “I’ll get you one.”
Before Randy could answer, Hutchens squirmed through guests, making a beeline for the bar next to the back door.
Randy picked up a small pink plate and loaded it with hot appetizers.
Guess it’s going to be a girl.
He hadn’t eaten all day. He popped a spicy meatball into his mouth while standing there at the crockpot full of them. Impressed, he stabbed three more onto a long toothpick and plopped them on the flimsy paper plate that was becoming dangerously lopsided already.
Hutchens poked his head around the corner, scaring Randy. “Hey, man. Tables out back. I got you a beer.” He raised it in the air and motioned for Randy to follow.
Randy grabbed a napkin and worked his way to the back door.
“Randy? Oh my gosh. Haven’t seen you in forever. How are you?” Jessica wrapped her hand around his wrist in that way that always made him want to pull away. It was an irritating habit. She was like a boa constrictor, and if he’d just been one step faster, he’d have made it outside without bumping into her.
“Hey, Jess. I’m good. Busy.”
“Still working too many hours, I bet,” she said in her slow, syrupy accent.
It didn’t sound like a compliment coming from her. “Love my job.” He popped a meatball in his mouth for no other reason than to not have to talk to her. They’d dated only briefly, but those were a few months he’d have preferred to skip. He pointed to his full mouth, feigning regret, and then slipped outside.
“Did you see Jessica? That lady is smoking hot,” Hutchens said.
“Yeah. You could’ve warned me.”
He shoved a beer in Randy’s hand. “Here. She’s not as hot as that little number you brought to the softball game, though. I guess now I know why you can’t let that case fall to the bottom of your stack.”
Randy bristled at the comment. Sometimes Hutchens could be such a jerk.
The backyard was packed with people from work. It was humid, but a man would rather sweat than be in a baby shower, and the proof was right here. Had to have been a woman to come up with that coed baby shower idea.
