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“I knew it was you,” Bridget said, giving me a hug. “You’re always prompt. That’s why I like you so much. Mallory’s not–”
“I’m not what?” Mallory asked as she nudged Bridget aside. A black and white dog with short legs sniffed me and looked at Fred who I held tucked under my arm.
Mallory wore a black skirt and black tights with a red and white striped shirt as if she was part of aWhere’s Waldo?book.
I thrust a bottle of wine at Bridget and Fred at Mallory. “Here.”
“It was dress as your favorite book character today at school,” Mallory explained without me asking, as if I wasn’t the first person to eye and question her wardrobe choice. So I had been right. “I like pajama day better.”
“Thanks,” Bridget said about the wine, but glanced around behind me. “Where’s Daniel?”
I frowned. Heat from inside hit my face and I could hear voices within.
“Um… I don’t know,” I replied, adjusting my purse on my shoulder. “His house?”
“He’s not with you?” Mallory asked, practically pouting, but sweetly petting Fred.
“Is he a requirement of being allowed in?”
“No,” Bridget said.
“Yes,” Mallory countered, giving her a look.
Bridget gave Mallory a look right back.
“No, but you should invite him. The guys are all here and I’m sure they want to meet him.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You mean you want to see him with me. See how he acts and all that.”
“That, too,” Mallory added.
“Will you let me inside at least to text him?”
Those were the magic words because they stepped back and I was allowed into the warmth.
28
DANIEL
I’m at Bridget and Mav’s place for dinner. They want to meet you.
Now?
I have a feeling they aren’t going to give me any food until you show up.
I frowned at her text.
“What’s up?” Sea Bass asked, coming over and slapping me on the shoulder. He’d gotten over the fact that I punched him this morning. We beat the shit out of each other over the years often enough that it was forgotten as soon as the swelling went down.
We–all five Pearson brothers–were in my backyard having beers and tossing logs. They–the logs, not my brothers–were close to the same weight and heft as what I’d be tossing during the Highland Games.
While it was dark out, I had my exterior lights on and enough of the back field was lit. We’d been at it for about an hour. We were all sweating, not bothered by the dropping temperatures.
“I’m invited to dinner,” I told him.
“You two lazy asses done already?” Saint called. He had the end of a log cupped in his hands by his hip and the length resting on his shoulder, Seth right by him ready to adjust it if needed.
Sea Bass grabbed his beer from the edge of the deck, ignoring him.
