The baby monitor was now in the middle of the table, and Rigby was regaling everyone with a story about the time he’d tried to rescue a baby moose from the frozen lake behind his house. I could imagine a thirteen-year-old Rigby saving a moose but losing his dad’s tractor in the lake. How could you even be mad about that?
His dad had grounded him for a month, because both moose and tractors were dangerous when coupled with a frozen lake, and he’d forgone his allowance forever after that. When he’d been drafted, he’d bought his dad a state-of-the-art new tractor, and they all still laughed about it.
But it wasn’t the grounding that gave me an insight into how Rigby had ended up the guy he was—it was the part where he dropped his voice conspiratorially. “After I’d been yelled at for a solid two hours about how dangerous everything was, my mom came in with a huge cake, covered in chocolate mousse”—I laughed at that part, because theirony—“and said that what I’d done had been dangerous, but courageous acts deserved recognition, especially when it was to save something weaker. I ate the whole damn thing. I was so sick afterwards, but it was the best hero cake I’ve ever had.”
I looked at River, remembering the story he’d told Huey last night when he got him ready for bed. Would he have turned out like Rigby, open and willing, if someone had baked him a cake after he’d saved Alana from the river? We’d never know, but I stored away the Hero Cake idea for when Huey was older.
We talked a little about the team, and the opening game that was on Friday night. River looked over at me, his beer raised to his lips. “You’ll come, right? Bring Huey?”
I must’ve been feeling soft with the beer, because I nodded. “Sure. I’ll pick him up some of those tiny earmuff things in case it gets too loud.” I felt Devan’s eyes on me, saw his brows pulled together in a thoughtful expression. His intense expression did things to me.
“Woo! Baby’s first hockey game. Gah, I’m already so proud,” Rigby hooted.
I laughed and sucked down more of my beer to cool my overheated cheeks. Being the center of their focus was… a lot.
They went back to talking about the upcoming game, and I settled back in my chair and just watched them. River was passionate as he talked, his eyes alight, and fuck, he was even more handsome than usual. Devan joked about buying the opposing team and firing Rigby’s archnemesis, and everyone just laughed.
“You could do that?”
He turned his intense expression in my direction. “Several times over.”
I was wildly out of my depth with these men. “Fuck me,” I breathed. Whoops, the booze was making my tongue a little loose. “That came out wrong. I mean, that’s a lot of money. I knew you guys were well off but that much must be terrifying.”
That sexy-ass frown again. “Why do you say that?”
I shrugged, wishing I hadn’t said anything now. “Money makes people crazy. My mom always said so. She said that there was always the pursuit to make more, be more, that you could never appreciate what you had. When you were living from paycheck to paycheck, you had to learn to appreciate the things and people around you. But you can’t do that, right? I did my research, saw an article inForbes. You must always wonder if someone wants you or wants your money, and that would be terrifying.” I looked at the other two men at the table. “It must be the same for you as well. Do they want the man or the pro athlete?” I gulped down the rest of my beer to make my tongue stop working.
“So you think you have to be mediocre to be happy?” Devan asked, and I shook my head.
“No! I mean, people still take advantage of each other, even when you have nothing to give. But I think it would be the exception rather than the rule. I can’t help anyone get any further in life. They can join me in my just-above-the-poverty-line glory, or they can move on.” I put a smile on my face. “Don’t mind me. I haven’t had a drink in… way too long. And beer always makes me a little too chatty.”
They all appraised me silently, and I felt about two inches tall. Fuck, now they were going to think that all I wanted them for was their money. Damn beer.
“Not that it makes any difference to me. I don’t want anything from you guys, except for an extra set of hands to look after Huey.” I looked at Devan, today's disagreement in the forefront of my mind. “Obviously.”
“Mmm, obviously,” he agreed. “I hope you can maintain that slightly cynical optimism.”
“That’s an oxymoron,” Rigby chimed in.
River slapped him on the back of the head. “You’re an oxymoron.”
Just like that, the intense conversation was done. And damn, the rest of the night was just nice. It wasn’t awkward, and when Rigby got up to light the fire pit, we moved down there. I could still see Huey on the baby monitor that sat between me and Devan, and I felt normal for the first time in so long.
Well, as normal as I could be surrounded by three hot guys I now cohabitated with.
“So you’re a virtual bookkeeper? What does that even mean?” Rigby asked me.
I shrugged, stretching out my legs on the outdoor sofa. I gave a little shiver as the cool night air competed with the warmth of the fire, and River pulled a blanket from somewhere, throwing it over my legs. I couldn’t help my little gasp of surprise, but when I looked at him, he was eyeing the firepit flames, not turned toward me at all.
I cleared my throat. “Basically, I run the numbers for small, independent businesses. Most of my clients are artists who sell their paintings on the internet.”
“Do you like it?” Rigby asked, and I huffed out a laugh. That was such a pro athlete thing to ask. Not everyone could make millions doing the thing they loved most in the world. Most people didn’t evenliketheir jobs. But you had to eat, and that meant trudging your way through a job you didn’t like, day after day.
So I hedged. “I like that I don’t have to go into the office every day. I like most of my clients.”
Devan tapped his beer bottle against his bottom lip. “But do you like your job?”
I gave him an exasperated sigh. “I mean, it's a job. It isn’t my passion. It’s not like I wake up every day and say ‘I can’t wait to balance chequebooks today,’ you know? But it's a steady income and I’m my own boss, so I can’t complain.”