Good Boy (WAGs #1)(42)

On the other side of the room, the curly-haired girl from the kitchen stands holding her plate. She’s listening to Brenna and shooting me dirty looks at the same time. That has to be Blake’s ex, and I find myself studying her. She’s cute, with big brown eyes and a heart-shaped face. The only ugly thing about her is the sour expression.

Blake gives my ass a squeeze, and I realize he’s prompting me to move forward. I take a chunk of the famous Riley brisket and a soft, buttered roll. Looking at the food, I’m suddenly starving. For a month I haven’t eaten all that well. Meals with Wes and Jamie are always terrific, but otherwise I scarf down a lot of takeout with the window open so Violet won’t sense how often I violate her no-food rule.

She’s softened up to me, though. I thought there was only one way to impress her—medical knowledge. But now I know there’re two. Since I introduced her to the team, she now looks at me like I’m someone worth knowing, which is just bonkers.

“Shoulda used two plates,” Blake comments. When I look, his is practically overflowing.

“You can stash something on mine,” I offer.

“Aw, thanks, J-Babe.”

“Whoa! I get your pin. Cough it up, big guy.”

“What?” He adds another roll to my plate and follows it up with a pat of butter the size of a hockey puck. “I didn’t say the b-word.”

“You did!”

“Babe isn’t the same.”

“A dozen Christmas tunes beg to differ.”

“Fine, baby. Take it.” With a smile, he kisses me on the forehead. “But if it wasn’t for your little technicality, I would’ve won big. The word baby isn’t even in my vocabulary.”

A gasp of dismay erupts from the other side of the room, and I don’t have to look to know who made it.

We carry our plates to the seating area, and Blake sets us up at a table with a couple of chairs left. “I’ll get silverware,” he says after I’m seated.

But before he’s taken more than a few steps toward the kitchen, his pregnant sister grabs his elbow. “What were you thinking?” Brenna hisses.

“I was thinking I’d get my girlfriend some silverware and a glass of water.” Blake removes his arm from her grasp, an indignant look on his face.

Her glare is deadly. “Your timing sucks, bro. A baby shower is when you decide to spring the girlfriend on us? With Molly watching? She’s very vulnerable right now.”

Blake’s jaw hardens. “It’s been five years, Bren. Do I look vulnerable? Cheezus.”

He stomps off, and I’m still staring at the doorway where he disappeared when I realize someone across the table has said my name. “Jessica.”

My gaze snaps over to find Mama Riley watching me. “Sorry, what?” Did she just bust me watching the Riley Family Drama?

“Don’t worry about that,” she says, waving a hand as if swatting away a fly. “My daughter is all hopped up on pregnancy hormones.”

“Oh, erm,” I stutter. “I have a big family, too. Five siblings. There’s always one drama or another.”

“Do you, now?” She sets her glass down, and I see her chill toward me thawing a little. “Tell me about yourself. What are your plans for the future?”

“Uh, I’m a nursing student. I study all the time. That’s pretty much it.”

Her eyes narrow. “And you’re dating my son, who’s friends with your brother.”

“Right,” I say quickly. “My brother is married to Ryan Wesley. They live in the same building as Blake.”

“Ah.” Mama Riley looks happier. “Good arm on Wesley. Excellent reflexes.”

“Yeah…” Now we’re talking hockey? I have whiplash, I think.

Blake sits down again, and he’s his usual buoyant self. The food is, as Blake promised, terrific. I tell Mama Riley this, and she beams.

Playing the part of the good girlfriend, I gather our dishes when we’re through. “I’ll just pop these into the kitchen, honey,” I offer, laying it on a little thick. “Do you need another beer? Or coffee?” Does Blake drink coffee? Fuck. I should have done my homework.

“I would love a cup!” he says. “Black, of course.” He winks.

“Of course!” I jump up and take my leave.

In the kitchen, I rinse our plates and pop them into the biggest dishwasher I’ve ever seen. Then I pour two cups of coffee from the big urn on the counter. Just around the corner, a tearful conversation catches my ear.

“It’s hard,” someone sniffs.

“I know, I know,” another female voice soothes. “Your baby would have turned four just next month. They would have been cousins.”

A chill climbs up my neck. Could she mean…?

Grasping the cups carefully, I walk off, keeping my back to the whispering women. But I can’t resist. When I’m a safe distance away, I turn my head.

Sure enough, it’s Molly and Brenna, their heads bent close together in conversation.

I have a million questions, at least. But for some reason the first one that pops into my mind is: Will Brenna now forfeit the collection of game pins on her dress?





17 The Godzilla Roar





Blake