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I frowned. “What?”
“You’re no longer jailbait.”
I rolled my eyes and whacked him on the arm. “I can’t believe P put this together and knew you were coming and didn’t tell me,” I said, turning toward her with an accusatory glare.
“P didn’t put it together,” he whispered into my hair.
I glanced back up at him. “Then who—”
“I did.”
“You?”
He nodded and wrapped his arms around my waist as I glanced back out at my friends and family. “Well, with her help, of course,” he said. “And don’t worry. P told me the second I chose this place that you’d be worried about Gabby or JT showing up. I made sure they’d have zero access.”
“And how d’you do that?”
“I rented the place for the night.”
I laughed. “Of course you did. And on a Friday. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled when they find their new hangout taken.”
“Big Joe’s been sent outside to ensure there are no problems.”
“Even better.” I smirked. “Surprising me with a visit on my birthday and displacing the Royals all in one night. You know the way to my heart.”
Two hours later, after I made the rounds and talked with everyone, we stuffed ourselves with pizza, then played a couple games of pool.
I leaned over a pool table and called my shot, “Eight ball in the right corner pocket.”
I closed one eye and steadied my pool stick before I hit the tip of it against the cue ball with asnap.
The eight ball shot toward the corner and bumped the side of the table before careening into the pocket.
“Woohoo!” I threw my hands up in the air, victorious.
Thorne smiled and tossed his pool stick onto the table, then swept me up into his arms.
“Aren’t you going to cry because you lost, Roberts?” I asked, teasing him as his gaze focused on my lips.
“I don’t mind if you win,” he murmured, then leaned down and brushed his lips over mine.
“It’s no fun if the loser doesn’t pout,” I grumbled into his mouth, and he laughed.
Then I slid in front of him, still wrapped in his arms, and glanced out at my fellow party-goers. “I can’t believe my aunt came,” I said, looking out to where Mom and Dad sat with her, drinking beer from plastic cups and talking animatedly about the new Batter and Bake, which the builders had already framed in.
“Of course she came,” Thorne said, taking my hand in his.
I slid my gaze to P and Topher, who took up the pool table across from us. It appeared Topher was giving P a lesson on Pool 101, and she was failing miserably.
Then my gaze paused on a familiar face, and I chuckled. Barry, engrossed in conversation with one of my cousins from Richmond, wore a t-shirt that said, “I know ,” then below it in fine print, “How to meet ladies.”
“And Barry?” I asked.
Thorne’s eyes lit up. “He and I are tight. He’s a pretty cool dude.”
I snorted and shook my head, finding it utterly endearing he had a soft spot for the nerd. “What is he wearing?”
“Yeah,” Thorne drawled. “We might have to work on that.”
