Page 22 of A Little Crush
With a low chuckle, Dodger collapses onto the cushion beside me and says, “Blame Hades, not me.” He cocks his head. “Or is it your fault for naming him after the devil himself?”
Okay, the man might have a point. Instead of arguing, my lips purse, and I look around the area, curious to see what’s next on tonight’s agenda because Game Night can mean anything under the sun, er, moon.
When everyone was little, and our families would get together, Aunt Blakely started teaching us kids different games. Things like Kick the Can and Spoons and Truth or Dare. Then, once we were good and distracted, the adults could have some time without the kids hovering. Not only did it stick, but the guys carried the tradition on to college and long after. Not going to lie. I’m kind of excited. I’ve only participated in a handful of Game Nights. Not because everyone was actively trying to exclude me and Tatum, but thanks to the age gap between us and everyone else, the stars rarely aligned for all of us to play together once the older kids moved on to college. The idea of participating tonight is enough to make my skin buzz with anticipation, and boy could I use a distraction.
In a dark T-shirt and jeans, Mav scoots around the edge of the balcony, approaching his fiancée. “You know about this?”
Ophelia shakes her head, her tiara wobbling. “Nope. You?”
“Not a clue.” Straightening the ridiculous crown on her head, Maverick pulls her up, takes the newly-empty seat, and tugs her onto his lap.
“That’s because Reeves and I are amazing,” Tatum interrupts, giving the best man a wry grin as he places his hand on top of Dylan’s round stomach. “You’re welcome, by the way,” Tatum adds, addressing Ophelia again. “I expect the same thoughtful treatment when I’m the bride.”
Ophelia lifts a brow. “And when will that be?”
Finley laughs. “Pretty sure that’s a Paxton question. Pax?”
Squeezing the back of his neck, the shameless guitarist answers her, “You’re really asking me to tell all my secrets?”
“Ahem,” Tatum interjects. “While I’m all for everyone grilling my boyfriend?—”
“She said boyfriend,” Dylan whispers beside Fin. “Boy. Friend.”
Finley leans closer to Dylan as if sharing a secret despite all of us clearly being within earshot. “Who is this girl, and what has she done with Lia’s little sister?”
Ignoring them, Tatum prods, “Reeves? Wanna take it from here before I smack your wife and her friend or…?”
“No bullying pregnant women,” Reeves counters, though I don’t miss the teasing lilt in his voice. “That’s my job.” Standing, he announces, “Aaaand tonight we’ll be playing—uh, Rory?” He points to the corner of the balcony. “Your dog?”
I follow Reeves’ finger in time to see Hades’ front paws on top of one of the side tables as he scarfs down the last of the appetizers.
“Hades!” I screech.When did he get over there?“Off!”
He licks up what’s left of Mama Taylor’s cookies, then pushes off the table and plops down near the railing, his tail swishing back and forth in satisfaction.
“Devil dog,” Dodger teases, as if Hades just proved his point from moments ago. Then again, I guess he did.
“You were saying?” Tatum prods.
Reeves clears his throat. “Tonight, we’ll be playing Ghosts in the Graveyard. Rules are simple. Everyone takes a wine cork. Excellent work clearing out some bottles, by the way.” He motions to the center table littered with empty bottles. “The cork with the heart written on the bottom is theghost.” Raising his hands, he does air quotes around the word ghost. “But don’t tell anyone if you’re it. After everyone’s chosen a wine cork, we’ll all spread out to go hunting, which meansyou walk around outside in the dark looking for the ghost. When the person who is the ghost finds an opening, they buckle down and hide. Everyone else? Your job is to try and figure out who the ghost is so you can be turned into one before Hades is let loose. If you find the ghost, you hide with them. But make sure you stay quiet. The last one to find the group of ghosts hiding has to tell a favorite memory with Ophelia or Mav or they get eaten by Rory’s devil dog. Any questions?”
Dylan raises her hand. “You really expect a pregnant woman to traipse around the forest when it’s pitch black outside?”
“You keep up with our boys just fine,” Reeves quips. “I think you can handle this.”
Folding her arms, she grumbles, “Sometimes, I really wish men could get pregnant.”
“Here, here!” Finley agrees.
She raises her almost-empty bottle of Diet Coke into the air while Tatum passes around a plastic bowl filled with wine corks. Some are from tonight, but it’s obvious she’s saved a few more and brought them with her because there’s no way we went through almost a dozen bottles in one night. As I take a cork from the bowl, I peek at the bottom. My stomach bottoms out.
There it is. A tiny heart drawn in black permanent marker.
Perfect.
When I said I wanted to participate in Game Night, I didn’t mean I wanted to be front and center. If we don’t get started in the next two minutes, everyone will be able to read my face and will know who the ghost is. I pull out my phone, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth in an attempt to look…I don’t even know. Not guilty? Yeah, that would be great.
Impossible but great.
