“Who reminds you of me?” Mom asks as she too walks straight into the house without knocking with Dad trailing after her.
“Are we referring to personality or outer appearance?” Lilac asks as she arrives with Ellery.
“Watch out! Lilac the sociologist is in the house,” Aspen says as she grabs a plate and digs into my seven-layer dip.
“Finally,” Rowan mumbles before shoveling half of the dip onto his plate together with a mound of chips.
“I made the dip for our guests, too,” I tell him.
He shrugs before joining Lyric and Dad on the sofa.
“Okay.” Bryan nods toward me. “We’ve got rid of the men. Now, tell us all about how Rowan is in the sack.”
Ellery pretends to gag. “Veto!”
“What are we vetoing?” Lyric’s brother, River, asks as he enters the house.
I ignore him to grab the plate his brother, Phoenix, is carrying. “Yes!” I cry when I notice the assortment of cheeses on the platter.
“Five minutes,” Rowan barks a warning.
Bryan’s lips purse. “Uh oh. He used his football voice.”
“His football voice?” I ask.
“Mm-hmm. It’s his serious voice, but since it only comes out during football, I refer to it as his football voice.”
I waggle my eyebrows at him. “I don’t know. I think I may have heard the voice at other times.”
He throws an arm around my shoulders and leads me toward the living room. “I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
When we near the sofa, Rowan snags my hand and pulls me down to sit next to him. After I settle in with him, I survey the room with my friends and family in attendance. This, right here, is the dream.
I catch Mom’s eyes and she smiles at me. I love you, baby girl, she mouths. And, for once, the baby reference doesn’t annoy me.
Rowan kisses my hair. “The dip was worth waiting for.”
You were worth waiting for, I think but don’t say. I’m not about to get all sappy about finally having Rowan where I’ve wanted him for-freaking-ever in front of my family who will have no qualms about teasing me for the rest of my life about getting all sentimental while watching a football game.
“Who wants to make a friendly wager about the game?” Lilac asks.
“Girl,” Bryan tuts and wags a finger at her, “there are no ‘friendly’ wagers when it comes to Rowan Aries Hansley and the National Football League.”
“True.” Lyric nods. “Rowan is a sore loser.”
Rowan growls. “I am not a sore loser. You’re a cheater.”
Lyric rolls his eyes. “I did not steal your lucky socks.”
I lean back to meet Rowan’s gaze. “Lucky socks? I didn’t know you were superstitious.”
“All professional football players are superstitious,” Bryan answers. “And let me tell you, the only thing not washing a jockstrap is going to bring you is jock itch. Not good luck.”
“Gross.” Ellery feigns throwing up except she does genuinely appear ill.
“Please tell me you washed your jockstrap.”
Rowan ignores me to tell Lyric, “I know you stole my lucky socks. River ratted you out.”