Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Looks like fun too.” There’s a basketball net at one end of the pool, and I can just picture all the larger Rileys battling over it together. On the surface, Blake’s home and mine look nothing alike. But I feel a familiar big-family vibe here, and it’s comforting to me. That weirdness in the kitchen really wasn’t so bad. “Nice place you got here, Blakey.” I hook my arm in his. “Show me some more.”
He takes me to the pool house, with its refrigerator full of Canadian beers. We return to find that the baby shower is just getting going in the huge sunroom off the kitchen. Guests are arriving in ones and twos, piling gifts on one table and sampling appetizers on another.
“Let’s find you something to eat,” Blake says, rubbing the small of my back. “I know my mom is a little much, but she’s a damn good cook.”
“Sounds great.”
He hands me a plate, and I help myself to a mini quiche and a deviled egg.
His sister Britt gallops over, smiling at me. “There’s a lot more food right in there,” she says, indicating the dining table through the French doors. “And we’re playing a party game.”
“Quarters?” Blake guesses. “Beer pong?”
His sister rolls her eyes. “No, Blakey.” She doesn’t even have to stand on her tiptoes to attach something to his shirt pocket. It’s a safety pin with a tiny blue ribbon on it. She hands me one with a pink ribbon. “For the whole party, you can’t say the word baby. If you do, you forfeit your pin to whoever heard you say it first. There’s a prize for the person who has the most pins at the end.”
“Beer pong is funner,” Blake argues.
She pats his chest. “Eat some brisket. Make Mom happy.”
We queue up for the buffet. The Riley dining table practically sags under the weight of all the food on it. As I load up my plate, Blake gets pulled into a discussion with his brother-in-law about the team’s chances for the season.
On the other side of the room, the curly-haired girl from the kitchen stands holding her plate. She’s listening to Brenna and shooting me dirty looks at the same time. That has to be Blake’s ex, and I find myself studying her. She’s cute, with big brown eyes and a heart-shaped face. The only ugly thing about her is the sour expression.
Blake gives my ass a squeeze, and I realize he’s prompting me to move forward. I take a chunk of the famous Riley brisket and a soft, buttered roll. Looking at the food, I’m suddenly starving. For a month, I haven’t eaten all that well. Meals with Wes and Jamie are always terrific, but otherwise I scarf down a lot of takeout with the window open so Violet won’t sense how often I violate her no-food rule.
She’s softened up to me, though. I thought there was only one way to impress her—medical knowledge. But now I know there’re two. Since I introduced her to the team, she now looks at me like I’m someone worth knowing, which is just bonkers.
“Shoulda used two plates,” Blake comments. When I look, his is practically overflowing.
“You can stash something on mine,” I offer.
“Aw, thanks, J-Babe.”
“Whoa! I get your pin. Cough it up, big guy.”
“What?” He adds another roll to my plate and follows it up with a pat of butter the size of a hockey puck. “I didn’t say the b-word.”
“You did!”
“Babe isn’t the same.”
“A dozen Christmas tunes beg to differ.”
“Fine, baby. Take it.” With a smile, he kisses me on the forehead. “But if it wasn’t for your little technicality, I would’ve won big. The word baby isn’t even in my vocabulary.”
A gasp of dismay erupts from the other side of the room, and I don’t have to look to know who made it.
We carry our plates to the seating area, and Blake sets us up at a table with a couple of chairs left. “I’ll get silverware,” he says after I’m seated.
But before he’s taken more than a few steps toward the kitchen, his pregnant sister grabs his elbow. “What were you thinking?” Brenna hisses.
“I was thinking I’d get my girlfriend some silverware and a glass of water.” Blake removes his arm from her grasp, an indignant look on his face.
Her glare is deadly. “Your timing sucks, bro. A shower is when you decide to spring the girlfriend on us? With Molly watching? She’s very vulnerable right now.”
Blake’s jaw hardens. “It’s been five years, Bren. Do I look vulnerable? Cheezus.”
He stomps off, and I’m still staring at the doorway where he disappeared when I realize someone across the table has said my name. “Jessica.”
My gaze snaps over to find Mama Riley watching me. “Sorry, what?” Did she just bust me watching the Riley family drama?