Brad is seriously asking for death when he leans over, tucks back a wispy strand of red hair, and whispers something in her ear. She bursts into a fit of giggles.
The sound arrests me. Have I ever heard her giggle before? Surely I must have. But I can’t think of when, and that bothers me.
Luckily, her friend Indie nudges her, drawing her into conversation. I relax a bit.
The day flows on. I try not to watch her too closely. At least, I try to watch her without looking like I’m watching. It’s a skill I’m embarrassed to have developed.
I know what number drink she's on. She's had three White Claws since noon. Brad handed her the last two, and I can tell she's past the point where her judgment is fully her own.
Brad either hasn't noticed or doesn't care. Typical baseball player.
But I think she's safe while she's with her friend Indie, so I finally wrench myself free of my one-sided staring contest and head over to Hunter, Jett, Silas, and Moose. They have a heated game of horseshoes going.
Moose swings the horseshoe, testing it as he lines up his shot. "When I nail this one, the loser does the dishes tonight."
"Like the last three you've nailed?" Hunter grunts.
"I've never seen a man as unlucky as you," Jett surmises. "But go ahead."
Moose spits on the ground, mumbles under his breath, and sends the horseshoes flying. It lands with a clang, circling the metal post. He pumps his fist. "Yesss!"
"Can I get in on this?" I ask.
"Sure. What do you have to bet?" Silas asks me.
I think for a moment. "How about we all have a shot, and the ones that don't make it have to skate a hundred laps on Monday?"
"Ooh, that's ice cold." Moose grins. "You know I'm in."
After a lot of razzing, I throw and miss. Moose and Hunter do too, but Silas and Jett hit the post and keep the horseshoe on.
"Nice," Silas says, pleased. He turns his head, scanning the crowd. "I should probably go check on my wife."
Jett claps him on the back. "I'm sure that Juliet and Jessa are seeing to her needs. Those three are tighter than a tater wedged in a tailpipe."
Silas looks pained. “I like to be the one she asks for help.”
“Gross,” Jett says. “But that’s also kind of sweet.”
Silas and Hunter look at each other, then silently shove off in search of their wives. Jett shakes his head at them. "Never seen two men who were so damn whipped."
"Weren't you with some girl the other day?"
Jett cuts me a look. "Yeah. Megan. I'm not sure we are even going to see each other again, though. I haven't heard from her in a while. Women, am I right?"
"Yeah." My gaze travels to the dock, searching for Mollie's red hair. It’s not hard to spot Mollie, becauseIndie has electric blue hair and they’re always next to each other.
Moose clears his throat. "So what's going on with you and little Tate?"
"Little Tate?" I echo, horrified. "That's the worst way I've ever heard her described."
"Sorry. Beck's little sister," he clarifies.
“Aside from the fact that she’s crashing at my place? Nothing. Should I be aware of something?"
Moose scowls. "We're doing that now, huh?"
"Doing what?"
