Superfan (Brooklyn #3)(48)

“It is. And I’m all for you taking more beach vacations with me.”

I squeeze his hand and feel as though I’m walking through a dream. A really good one.

The path leads us toward a beach where a couple dozen people gather. I’d rather have Silas all to myself, but that’s not what I signed up for. So I put on my People Face and let him lead me into the fray.

“Look who it is!” his roommate calls from the water’s edge. He’s holding a soccer ball. “Decided to show your face? You missed ping pong entirely. Afraid of the competition?”

“I thought someone else should be allowed to win sometimes,” Silas says easily.

“Get over here,” Jason says. “You need a beatdown for saying that.”

“Patience. You’ll get your beatdown.” He grins at his roommate.

“Go head and play,” I urge. I don’t want to be the kind of date who needs babysitting.

“We need a drink and some of those appetizers, first.” He scans the beach, taking in a little tiki hut where a bartender waits. But someone else is flagging us down.

“Over here!” A short, smiling woman waves at us. “I have munchies. Introduce me to your date!”

With a grin, Silas leads me toward her. “Rebecca, this is Delilah. Delilah, this is the bride.”

“Oh, hello!” I sit down on the empty beach chair beside her and shake her hand. I don’t know why I’m surprised at her appearance. She’s completely adorable. But I thought billionaires married supermodels. I was picturing someone six feet tall with a European accent and hair that rarely leaves the salon. “Thank you so much for letting me crash your big day. This place is exquisite.”

“It’s my pleasure. The groom is—” She points at another man in swim trunks. He’s in a circle of men kicking the soccer ball around. “That guy. I’ll introduce you after their tournament ends. It’s an elimination game, and Nate usually doesn’t make it to the final four.”

“Who usually wins?” I ask.

“I do,” Silas says. “Duh.”

“Look at the ego on this guy,” Rebecca teases.

“It’s not bragging if it’s true,” Silas argues, sitting down right beside me on the chair. He lifts a tray from the little table beside Rebecca’s chair. It’s piled with skewers of shrimp and crab cakes. “Delilah, I ate about twenty of these last night, and they are worth it.”

“Have some!” Rebecca encourages me. “I put the snacks next to me so that everyone would have to stop by. We also have this.” She hefts a pitcher of what looks like frozen margaritas and grabs an empty glass off an inverted stack. She pours the drink, and it looks delicious.

And now we arrive at the awkward part. “Oh, Silas can have that,” I say as she offers me the glass. “I’m not ready.”

Honestly, I wish I could just take the drink like a normal person. Nobody on this beach is trying to drug me. But some habits are so deeply ingrained you can’t even imagine breaking them.

Silas takes the glass and then stands up. A warm hand lands on my head. “Back in one sec.”

“So,” I say to Rebecca. “How did you end up working in professional sports? Did you always love hockey?” I help myself to a shrimp skewer, because I really am starving.

“Hockey is the best,” she says. “But I didn’t see my first pro game until Nate bought the team a few years ago. Now it’s my life. The same could happen to you if you’re not careful.” Her eyes sparkle. “But I heard you went to your first game only a couple of months ago.”

“True story.” My eyes cut to Silas, who’s speaking to the bartender. I’m realizing now that Silas underplayed his relationship with the bride and groom. Rebecca isn’t just an acquaintance. She’s his friend. “The first time I met Silas, I didn’t know he was a hockey player. He was just the guy behind the bar who brought me my beers.”

“Really?” she squeaks, wide-eyed. “That is adorable!”

“Yes, ma’am. And I had a thing for him right away. Even though I thought his name was Ralph.”

“Ralph,” she repeats at a whisper.

“Yeah, it’s a nickname they gave him in high school.” I shrug, but it occurs to me that I’ve made a tactical error.

“Ralph…as in vomit?” she gasps.

“Um…”

Rebecca puts two fingers between her lips and whistles toward the soccer circle. “Georgia! Come here.”

“What did I miss?” The publicist comes bounding over.

“Did you know that Silas’s high school nickname was Ralph?”

“As in…” Georgia makes a face. Then she bursts out laughing.

Uh-oh.

Silas returns a moment later holding an unopened can of Coke in his hand. Rebecca and Georgia are still laughing. “What did I miss?”

“Not a lot, Ralph,” Georgia says.

“Really?” He frowns down at me, then checks his watch. “I step away for ninety seconds, and you manage to give that up? Three years of discretion, gone in an instant.”

“I’m sorry! It was an accident.”

He gives me a wry smile. “You’re lucky I like you.”