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“I was traded. He knows that, right?” It probably said something about his ego that it had never occurred to Corey that her family wouldn’t like him. But the idea that he’d start off having them all hate him wasn’t cool.
She shrugged. “There was talk about prissy boys demanding trades.”
Shit. He heard the noise coming from the back of the house, and it sounded almost as chaotic as Beth and Marc’s on beer night. So it seemed likely it wasn’t just her parents here.
“Who’s here?” Corey asked.
“Everyone; it’s Sunday dinner. We were just sitting down to eat when you called. So you’re walking into an entire slew of ’Stros fans.”
Corey cracked his neck. How hard could it be to win over her family? She’d hated him at first, and he’d changed her opinion. Plus, he’d won a world series for the Astros. He might have been traded to Metros a year later, but he was still the pitcher who won game seven and brought home the title.
“I’ll win them over, don’t worry. You’re worth the work.”
Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes softened. “Darn it, Corey.” She crossed her arms. “Why are you being sweet? I was messing with you to get back for the rodent nickname.” Her arms fell to her sides, and she stretched up on her toes to kiss him.
Not that he’d ever complain when her soft lips pressed against his, but he was confused as hell. So as soon as she pulled back, he asked.
“Huh?”
“They love Corey Matthews, so you’ll be fine. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him through a swinging door into the back of the house.
The door opened into a large dining room with a full table. All eyes swung to them the second they were through the door.
“My boyfriend stopped by,” Taran said flippantly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but her family stared, wide-eyed, at him.
Shocked fans were a regular part of his life, but Corey wasn’t sure what type of shock he was dealing with.
He scanned the group. It was easy to pick out her parents. Her father had the build of a man who’d worked hard in the fields for years. The black hair filled in with gray, causing the salt and pepper look. Her mother was just as petite as Taran and had the same eyebrows, which were currently cocked in surprise. Her sister and brother had to be the other two dark-haired adults at the table because they had the delicate facial features that matched Taran’s. He could even see the resemblance in the two teenagers and the two younger girls.
“I play Diablo with you?”
Corey recognized Bryce’s voice and glanced over to see him sitting with a fork half way to his mouth.
“Yeah, did you check out the new patch?” he asked.
Bryce blinked, and the shock disappeared as the fork clattered to his plate. “Man, my new Barb melee looks tight, but I swear it’s totally marshmallow.”
“Marshmallow?”
Corey turned to the blonde at the table that must be Bryce’s mother. “Soft. He loses lots of hit points when he wears it.”
“I keep telling you it wouldn’t be an issue if you cast more. I’m the monk. I should be tanking it; learn how to play,” Noah said.
A flush spread across Bryce’s cheeks as his glare tore through his older brother. Corey knew the look, and Noah would pay for the comment at some point.
“He’s right; if we want to try the new category, everyone needs to stay in their lane,” Corey agreed, walking closer to the boys at the far end of the table.
“It would help if we weren’t stuck with a witch doctor and wizard,” Bryce complained.
“Don’t pick on the girls,” Corey said. “Remember my life goals.”
A throat cleared, and Corey turned to the rest of the table.
“What life goals?” Taran’s brother asked.
“Get Aunt Taran to like him. Duh, Uncle Tristan.” Crystal giggled.
A few others chuckled.
