“Other than my dad startin’ shit, not much,” Knox explains, then tells her exactly what happened.
Ivy falls into a fit of laughter.
Knox pops a few chips in his mouth. “Every damn year, it’s some sort of prank.”
“Did your junk get sprayed too?” she asks me.
“Yes, but it’s almost dry now, thankfully,” I say, not wanting to stand because I don’t want her to look at the chubby I’m currently trying to hide.
“That would’ve been funny to watch. I always miss the good stuff.” She smirks.
“The best part was when Grandma stopped all the commotion,” Hadleigh explains.
Right on cue, Dad walks by, and he’s dripping wet. Ivy snickers, and I shake my head as Dad shoots winks and antagonizes anyone who will give him a sliver of attention. We’ve all learned to ignore him.
“The trick is not to make eye contact,” I lean in and whisper to her.
“Got it,” she confirms, focusing on her plate while she snickers.
After eating, I catch up with Ethan and Harper, who are sitting on a blanket and enjoying the sunshine. Hayden and Hailey-Mae are busy playing with their toys on the grass. While we talk, my gaze drifts over to Ivy. She’s smiling at Hadleigh and Knox, but I notice her pull a small bottle of something from her purse and pour it into her red cup. I vow to keep my eye on her throughout the day and night because while she’s safe here, some ranch hands’d happily take her home. That shit isn’t happening on my watch.
Uncle Alex asks Ethan a question, and I take the opportunity to step away. Ivy’s back at the punch bowl filling her plastic cup full.
I lean in and whisper in her ear. “I know what you’ve been doin’.”
She immediately giggles, and I can tell she’s already tipsy. “What have I been doin’? Please enlighten me.”
The confidence in her tone is undeniable.
“The booze. I’ve been watchin’ ya.”
Intrigue covers her face. “Have you now? And do you like what you see?”
Heat rushes through me, and I can feel my pulse pick up in my neck. “Depends,” I linger, not finishing my sentence.
“So whatcha gonna do about it? Tattle on me?”
I burst into a hearty laughter. “Maybe I’ll call the cops and get you arrested.”
“With handcuffs? Sounds erotic. Call them. I dare you,” she taunts, lifting a brow.
I shake my head. “Nah. But if you don’t slow down, you’re gonna be sick as hell.”
She opens the flap of her purse, and I see a bottle of Fireball. The fact that she’s mixing it with fruit punch makes my stomach turn. “That stuff will sneak up on you if you’re not careful.”
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we? I mean, you admitted to watching me, so sit back and enjoy the show.”
“Never experienced feisty Ivy before.”
She lifts a brow. “Then you’re missing out.”
I can’t help but study how she licks her lips.
“So where’s that girlfriend of yours?” Ivy looks around. “Haven’t come across her yet.”
“Not sure.” I’m tempted to tell her that I’m single as a Pringle, but I keep it to myself. It would be awkward to offer that information right now.
“Her loss,” Ivy states, pouring another shot into her drink.
“Kane!” Kaitlyn yells from across the pasture. She’s holding a volleyball in her hand. “Bring Ivy too!”
Payton stands off to the side as Kaitlyn waves us over.
“You two are the only ones under the age of fifty who aren’t holding a baby at the moment. We can play in pairs. You in?” Kaitlyn asks.
I look at Payton, and all he does is shrug. He’s only trying to appease her because Kaitlyn can be pushy at times.
“I’ll play if Kane does!” Ivy glances at me. “But fair warning, I was into academics, not sports. Sorry you’ve got the worst partner, and we haven’t even started.”
A chuckle escapes me. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Who’s serving first?” Payton asks.
“They can,” Kaitlyn demands, then throws the ball toward us. Ivy misses, and I hand it to her.
“Told you,” she whispers.
I lean in close. “The booze probably ain’t helpin’ any.”
She places her finger against her lips and shushes me. When I turn around, Kaitlyn and Payton are in place. Ivy tries to do an overhand serve, and her hand slams against it. The ball whips forward and bounces against the top of my head. Somehow, it goes over the net where Kaitlyn spikes it.
“Damn. I’m sorry,” Ivy tells me.
“At least it went over,” I encourage.
“I hope this whole game ain’t gonna be like this,” Kaitlyn complains.
“Stop shit talkin’,” I say when it’s their turn. The ball goes back and forth a few times, mainly between Kaitlyn and me. She’s way too competitive for her own good.
“Next time, we’re playing chess,” Ivy states as I help her up after she tripped. I give her a little too much oomph, and she slams against my chest.