“Evangeline,” I smile casually as I force my eyes away from her for a single second to look at Alie. “Didn’t know we were having production meetings at the dinner table now.”
Alie huffs a laugh and looks over her shoulder at me. “I’ve known Eva since she was a baby. She’s practically family,” Alie says, giving me a knowing look as she stirs a pot on the stove. There’s a tiny smirk on her face that tells me she knew exactly what she was doing. “Funny thing, she was going to be in the area, so I insisted she join us for dinner. Now go put that beer away and help us set the table.”
I walk over to the fridge, passing behind Eva’s stool. The scent of her hits me, making me want to bury my face in her neck. Her shoulder brushes against my jacket as I walk by, and I literally have to bite the inside of my cheek in an effort not to make a scene.
I set the bottle in the door of the fridge, then turn around, leaning against the cool metal, crossing my arms over my chest as I look at her.
“Carrington,” I murmur, my voice amused. Because truly, this couldn’t have played out better for me.
“Griff,” she replies, her voice steady, though the pulse I can see at the base of her throat tells me everything I need to know. She raises her glass to me, her eyes burning with mutual amusement. “I love your blouse.”
Saint chokes on a laugh.
I’m wearing a button-down flannel shirt with a white T-shirt underneath, jeans, and my cowboy boots. But damn do I love when she gives me shit. “Appreciate it. I think the blue brings out the color of my eyes.” I run my hands over my shirt and shoot her a wink.
“Hmm,” she smiles and gives a subtle shake of her head.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I chuckle, playing her game.
“I think you’re right, Aston. The blue looks great on you,” Alie agrees, not catching on to our teasing banter.
Eva covers her mouth with her hand hiding her smile.
Liam walks into the kitchen with the bag of peas in his hand and drops it on the counter. Then he stands behind Alie at the stove and whispers something in her ear, then kisses her neck.
“Enough of that. Are we eating or what?” Brody walks in and starts pulling out place mats and napkins out of a drawer like he lives here.
Once the table is set and the food is put into serving dishes, we all sit down at the table, including the kids.
It’s the kind of loud, chaos that only happens with family. Liam and Brody start to bicker over a holding call from our last game. Brody’s arm gestures over the brisket, and Alie threatens to hit him with a wooden spoon.
But I’m not really paying attention to what they’re saying because all my focus is on Eva.
I see her interacting with the kids. Rhyan—who is usually aterror to anyone she doesn’t know—has decided that Eva is her new best friend. She’s telling Eva something about dragons and making her a princess in her kingdom while she takes Eva’s hands in her likely sticky ones. But Eva doesn’t seem to mind. She just leans forward and whispers something into Rhyan’s ear that makes her erupt into giggles.
We finish dinner, as easy conversation flows around the table. We talk about the playoff game against Atlanta. Then the little girls tell us about their Christmas recital where they’ll both be Sugar Plum Attendants. Whatever that means. And Remy tells us about his hockey team and asks me if I think Aiden can make it to one of his games again this season.
“I promise, I’ll give him your schedule and see if he can make it over when he’s playing in town,” I say, ruffling his hair.
“That would be awesome!” Remy nods excitedly.
“Okay, you kids go play in the other room,” Alie instructs. “And you guys”—she points to us men—“you’re on cleanup duty. I wanna finish my wine.” When she stands, Liam tilts his head up, and she bends down to kiss him, then grabs her glass. “Let’s go, Eva. I need you to fill me in on the latest drama with Cher.”
The girls follow the kids into the other room, and we stay seated, finishing our own drinks.
I see Remy and Sera start picking at each other, getting into a standoff over a Lego. I watch as Eva notices, and she nods to Alie and slides off the couch and sits on her knees on the floor.
She’s right at their level, and she takes the Lego, murmuring something to Remy that I can’t hear. Within seconds, both kids are laughing, the tension broken as she starts stacking Legos into even piles.
My chest feels tight as I lean my elbow on the table, watching her move in and around my world. It’s not just that she’s good with them. It’s the lack of pretense. She doesn’t look like a billionaire’s daughter or a network producer right now. She just looks like … home. Eva blends into the fabric of the people who know the real me so perfectly that it feels like she’s always been here.
Saint moves over to the empty seat beside mine, bottle of beer in hand. He doesn’t look at me. He just tracks my stare to where Eva is keeping the peace among the kids, letting Rhyan put an enormous pink plastic clip in her hair.
“You know, despite how wealthy these women are, they’re different,” Saint says, his heavy rumble staying beneath the noise of Liam and Brody’s conversation.
I don’t take my eyes off Eva though. “Yeah.”
“Doc noticed it first at the stadium a few weeks ago,” Saint murmurs, taking a sip of his beer. “She said the way Carrington looks at the tunnel before you walk out isn’t the way a producer looks at a cue. She’s looking for number fifty-four.”
