I’m basically sitting quietly in the back of the car—nervous and excited for Rachel. Rachel has always been so career-oriented that Wynn and I simply cannot believe our closest friend is having a baby in September.
As soon as we arrive, hugs and congratulations are exchanged, and then the men and the women separate. The girls sit in the sumptuous, modern living area while Saint, Emmett, and Callan hang out by the bar. The guys rib Saint about payback for all the mischief he caused when he was young.
I know that Tahoe had a game tonight, but I keep glancing at the time on my mobile, wondering when and if he’ll show up. I’ve grown so used to seeing him whenever there’s any Saint event, I hadn’t expected to miss the sight of him. I need to see him to confirm that nothing changed after New Year’s.
Absolutely nothing at all.
Wynn is on a roll with the baby talk, even more than Rachel, unbelievably. Though Rachel told us they’d already been trying, and that when she found out she was pregnant, she didn’t tell Saint for three days. “I first rush-ordered a little baby tee from a customization store online that said ‘Daddy’s little Saint,’ and one night when he came from work, I set it right on his side of the bed over his pillow. Oh guys! You should’ve seen his face when we finally retired for the night and he saw that tiny little tee. His face went from disbelief, to total shock, to this gorgeous laugh and a hug so tight I thought he’d break my bones.”
“Awwwwww!” Wynn says.
I laugh happily, feel warm even though I’m still at the shocked stage myself.
Even when Rachel goes to check up on the snacks, Wynn continues to talk to me about babies.
“You know, after that pregnancy scare at Rachel and Saint’s wedding, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of babies. I see them everywhere. I have never seen so many babies in my life. They’re in the soup, I tell you. I keep wondering if Emmet is the kind of father I want for my kids. Am I the kind of mother I want for my kids…”
“Wynn,” I say drolly, “you have no other choice on that one.”
“I have a choice in self-improvement, though,” she counters. “Obviously for change to work you need to be aware of the problem, accept that it needs fixing, and then, actively try to fix it. Like I’m disorganized, but now that I’ve moved in with Emmet, I’m trying not to be so messy—though it’s nice for my flaws not to matter that much to him, I guess.”
“Oh noooo.” I laughingly shake my head. “I’ll be dead before I’m seen without makeup. I sleep with it on if a guy stays over. I set the alarm and put on makeup before Trent wakes, that’s how much it needs to be on my face.”
“Speaking of, I like that Cleopatra look.”
“Thank you. I worked hours on it.” I grin and wink as I edge closer to her. “Do you think the eyeliner was too much?”
“Why is it so important?”
Tahoe Roth steps off the elevator, and it’s hard not to notice the wow look on Wynn’s face when she sees him in his casual jeans and comfy sweater.
“I do this for a living. It’s my presentation card,” I tell her. “Nobody wants a fat dietician or a clown-faced makeup artist.”
“There’s your buddy Tahoe.” She points, wiggling her eyebrows.
I ignore her (and him) but I shiver when I hear his voice, greeting Rachel’s husband and congratulating him.
Their laughs fill the room. Tahoe has this easy laugh, it’s almost contagious. It sounds delicious and it makes you want to have such a delicious time. I find myself smiling because of it when he heads over and greets Wynn, then he looks at me.
“Hey. What’s up with you?” He drops down beside me.
“Nothing’s up. What’s up with you?” I counter.
He looks really cozy in a draping, heavy-knitted ivory sweater, warm and inviting. That familiar irresistible grin lights his face as he looks at me. He leans back and folds his arms behind his head. “A whole lot of nothing.” He leans closer to me. “Why didn’t you come to my game?”
“Why you assume I’ll ever want to is amusing. That beard is getting long, by the way.”
“We’re in a bad streak.”
“Right. You loser.”
He laughs and caresses his jaw, smiling ruefully, the dimple showing. “I used to be luckier. I’ve still got what it takes though. If you’d only come watch, I’d be happy to show you.”
“I don’t cheer for losers.” I stick my tongue out at him.
“Tsk, Regina,” he drawls, “I would no longer be a loser if you came to cheer for me.”
He’s teasing, and we both laugh, but when our eyes connect again, a shock runs through my system.
Did you like that kiss even a fraction of how much I liked it?