One Funeral (No Weddings #2)(24)
Ben joined in as I poured the cherries into the heated pan. “He’s got passion enough to win. I’m with Mase. Money isn’t a big enough motivator, but his heart in the game is.”
Enjoying their debate, I smiled as I added sugar, lemon juice, vanilla bean, and its seeds. I stirred over the medium-high heat until the sugar dissolved.
Cade stood from the table and collected the demolished dinner plates. “I don’t see it. The guy is an amazing baseball player, I’ll give you that. But his forty-year-old body’s giving out on him. He knows it. That’s why he’s retiring. I hope he has a record-breaking season and takes them to the World Series, but I’m not seeing it.”
I pulled the pan from the stove and added a quarter cup of brandy. When I returned the pan to the burner, I grabbed a long match and lit it. “Heads up, guys.”
When everyone turned my way, I ignited the cherries into a burst of blue flame. A bass whoosh sounded out.
“Holy shit.” Cade rushed up behind me as if to tackle me away from the dessert.
“I’m okay, Cade. I’ve done this before.” I stirred the mixture as the bluish flame dwindled.
His huge exhale ruffled the hair beside my right ear. “Warn us, would you?”
I glanced up at him, smirking. “I did. Hence the ‘heads up’ signal.”
Mase snorted, standing from the table. “I’m with Cade. Something along the lines of ‘guys, I’m about to set your house on fire’ would’ve been more effective.”
I dropped a hard look at Ben, who continued to sit at the table as I stirred the mixture while it flamed out. “Have anything to add over there, O Quiet One?”
Ben shook his head. “Nope.” He crossed his arms, glancing at the other two. “I’m good.”
“Cade, grab the vanilla ice cream out of the freezer and scoop it into those three bowls, would you?” I turned off the burner and gave the mixture a final, gentle stir.
He grudgingly went to the freezer and plopped two scoopfuls into each bowl. “What about you?”
“I’m having different ice cream.” I brushed by him and grabbed my lactose-free vanilla ice cream from the lower freezer basket. “It’s made from coconut milk.”
As I poured the cherries over the ice cream, Cade moved the bowls around, lining each one up under the pan so I didn’t need to move. Mase grabbed four spoons, fresh napkins, and the first two bowls and brought them to the table.
Cade leaned into me the moment Mase left. “Seriously, Hannah. That shot my heart into my throat.” He huffed out a sigh.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” I looked up at him.
Solemn worry was etched into his face. “It’s okay. Just glad you’re safe.” He threaded a hand into my hair, skating his fingers across the back of my head as he bent down to kiss me. On the forehead. Still, it was a lot more affection than he’d ever shown in front of the guys at his place.
But when I turned around, Mase and Ben weren’t paying us any attention. They were back in a heated discussion about World Series hopefuls. This time, the Dodgers were under the microscope.
Cade picked up our bowls and guided me back toward the table with his arm practically around me as we walked. Maybe it was my imagination, but he suddenly seemed to have moved closer to me. Less distance existed between his body and mine as we sat in our chairs.
And while it was only a matter of a few inches, to me, the difference meant everything.
Half-naked girls strutted around in stilettos, dressed in satin, jewel-toned outfits that cinched their waists in and pressed their boobs up. The only items remotely Easter about the event were the white cottontails on their perky asses and long-eared headbands on their heads.
All things sexual and raunchy were on the agenda for one Dwight Cavanaugh, who, although he turned fifty that week, was as fit as Cade and looked far younger than his years.
And the bunnies fawned all over him and his wealthy, attractive friends.
“Easter party? Looks very bachelor party.” At an Invitation Only event more frat than civilized, would Cade breach our fading no-touch line around his sisters?
Cade laughed as he handed me a drink. When I arched a brow at the pink liquid in the martini glass, he shrugged. “Pomegranate martini. They’re serving themed drinks, and I thought you’d want to try it. And it is more like a bachelor party. Guy’s been single all his life and celebrating the fact. Who knows, maybe it’ll be a last hurrah before landing the bunny of his dreams.”
I nodded, sipping my drink. “Mmm, this is good—tart and sweet.”
I drank my martini while scanning the crowd of women, doing a mental headcount. There had to be at least forty women in bunny outfits. The rest of us—Ben, Cade, his sisters, and me—all wore casual attire: nice shirts and jeans. No way in hell was I putting on a bunny outfit.
Cade had taken great pains to bring the most beautiful women to the event. He’d been scrolling through pictures of models and sending emails back and forth to their agents for a week before making flight and accommodation arrangements for the very best among them. When I’d asked about the cost, he said Dwight had tens of millions and wanted to spare no expense.
While we’d been studying all last week, or when Cade was in the lounge at Sweet Dreams, he’d perused the potential candidates. He’d make notes about one, then click on to the next, remaining completely detached and businesslike about the task, even though some of the models were fully naked. One time when I’d leaned over his shoulder, catching an eyeful of a doubleD centerfold, he’d simply clicked into his notes page and wrote her into the “yes” column along with a note of her hair and eye color.