“I live and breathe awesomeness, right, doll?” he asked her.
She couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but he got a lot of eye rolls and sighs from the group.
Danny just smiled, wrapped his arm around Taran’s shoulder, and said, “You two are riding with me.” He looked over his shoulder at Clayton and added, “And be a gentleman. She gets shot gun, douche.”
“I’m going with Will, then,” Clayton whined.
Joey crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve got shotgun with Will.”
Clayton’s eyes shot to Beth and Marc, but their son added, “There are six of us. If you go in our car, it’s the middle of the way back.”
“Fine,” Clayton huffed.
Taran just watched and appreciated the normalcy of this big loving family. She was starting to understand how Clayton stayed so down-to-earth. No matter what Clayton became in life, he’d always be the well-loved, well-teased baby of the Evans family. And that would forever keep him in his place.
The last few days had been all kinds of fun for Taran. She liked the Evans family more than she realized she would when she’d started the article on Clayton. She had finished last night and had dropped a copy off earlier in the evening at the Demodas’ house, giving the entire crew a chance to read it.
What she learned wasn’t anything she hadn’t observed in the first few hours. Although he looked like a real-life Prince Charming, and threw like the next Tom Brady, he was the most normal person she’d met in a long time.
She had also sent Hot Shots a copy. Although she wrote color pieces, she always had the agent and the athlete’s approval before she published. It was contradictory to what many journalists did, but the only way she got athletes to agree to work with her was because of the reputation she’d created for herself. She assumed she would know everyone’s thoughts when she heard back from Sean the next day, and then it was time to pick her next subject.
She was already settled in for the night when her doorbell rang at eight thirty.
Clayton stood on the doorstep with a rolled-up bunch of papers, knocking them against his leg.
“Am I the first one here?” he asked, as he walked past her. The lack of an invitation didn’t stop him from coming in and looking around. “This looks more like Morgan’s place than what I’d pictured for you.”
She ignored the comment everyone always made about how feminine her house was. “What do you mean ‘first’?” she asked, eyeing the roll of papers he had tossed onto the glass table. “Is there a problem with the article?”
“No, it was great. Although I don’t think my brothers will ever let me live down the Disney prince comparison.” He frowned at the thought. “Will I break any of this if I sit down?”
A knock on her door interrupted her before she could assure him he wouldn’t. Will and Danny stood on her front stoop, and as she let them in, she saw Marc and Joey both parking, so she waited at the door for them.
Once she got them all inside, she asked, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Beth said when you dropped off the article, you told her to thank all of us and that you were done,” Marc said, frowning.
“Yes.” She had no idea where they were going with this.
“Well, doll,” Danny drawled, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, “we don’t let people into the inner sanctum very often. You were an exception to our no outsiders rule. We can’t just let you go without a sendoff, so we’re here for one more beer night.”
Another knock filled the air. “Luke?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Will nodded. “And he better have the beer. He’s been freeloading all week.”
“Got any more of that banging lasagna?” Clayton asked. “I’ve been telling the guys it’s my new favorite food.”
“Sean said I need to try your brisket. It’s apparently heaven on earth,” Marc said.
Taran did a mental inventory of her freezer before agreeing. “They’re going to take about an hour though.”
“We have all night,” Danny informed her.
Taran rolled her eyes and got to cooking. Well, reheating. She was flattered they’d come to say goodbye, and she was sure she’d miss these guys. It took less than five minutes to get the food in the oven before heading back into her living room.
Three steps in, she froze, as Nick Evans turned his intense slate-blue eyes on her. He sucked in a hard breath as his eyes widened.
“Holy shit.” The words left his mouth in an almost whisper.
She’d successfully avoided Nick until this point, and for good reason. He’d been busy with work and his wedding, and she’d planned her time with Clayton and the Evanses carefully. But now she had no choice but to face him. He shot to his feet, and she braced herself. God, she didn’t want to do this.