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“Yep,” Liam says. “All of us. Gotta support Eli’s team.”
“You should probably wear a cup,” I tell him, trying not to laugh again.
“Good advice,” Liam says, sounding like he means it.
I hand Eli back his phone and he growls something unintelligible into it then turns it off and shoves it in his pocket. He looks at the walls again and grimaces.
“They love you,” I tell him.
He wrinkles his nose.
“They’re going to your game next week,” I tell him. “That’s love.”
“Your family is going, too,” he points out.
I open my mouth to tell him it’s different. That for them it’s a promotional opportunity. I’m so nervous about seeing them, especially Isabella.
But then I close it again. This weekend is about us. Especially about him, from all the photos on the wall.
And honestly, I’m here for that.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
MACKENZIE
There’s never been a doubt in my mind that Eli Salinger is a gorgeous specimen of a man. But apart from the night we went to the club – when he was barely speaking to me – I’ve rarely seen him dress up.
But tonight he’s made an effort. There are no sweats or hoodies to be seen. He’s in a pair of charcoal gray dress pants and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms. He’s leaning on the kitchen door, chatting to the chef, a bottle of beer in his hand.
We spent most of the afternoon in the hot tub, looking out at the lake, making out like teenagers, and then I got to experience the mist fall down over the tree canopy.
It was magical and beautiful.
Then Eli insisted I got full use of the bathroom to get ready. It was actually lovely. I can’t remember the last time I put so much effort into looking pretty, and I’ve missed it.
I showered, shaved, painted my nails, and curled my hair. Then I carefully put on my makeup before putting on the dress I packed after Eli told me we’d be dressing up for dinner.
He’s pulled a table into the center of the living room, two sturdy wooden chairs on either side, set with a white linen tablecloth and fine china. The fire is blazing – I should have known Eli was a fiend for the flames. Most guys are. My brothers turn into little boys whenever somebody brings firewood near them.
The walls are still papered with photos of naked baby Eli. But I ignore them and head for the kitchen.
“Hi.” I trail my fingers along the back of the sofa as I walk. “Something smells good.”
Eli looks me up and down. Then he swallows hard. Good, exactly the reaction I wanted.
He’s made a lot of effort tonight. I want to do the same.
When I reach him he kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear. “You look beautiful.”
I press my palm against his chest. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
“Come meet Saul,” he says, taking my hand in his. “Saul, this is Mackenzie Hunter.”
Saul looks like he’s in his early fifties. He’s wearing a white chef’s coat and a black bandana tied on his head. Putting down the spoon he was holding, he reaches out his hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His handshake is firm. It’s pretty hot in the kitchen but he’s not sweaty at all. “First course should be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask, because it feels weird to stand around when he’s cooking in Eli’s kitchen.
