Scored(52)

“How did this turn into a conversation about my soul?”

“Is this the influence of the librarian?” Mom tsks, then narrows her eyes. “She’s not Catholic, is she?”

“I didn’t think to ask.”

Wrong answer because my mom crosses her arms and says, “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to make potato salad now.”

I press my fingers against my eyes, reminding myself that I love my parents. I love my family, and this is just par for the course with them. “Then don’t make it. Catherine can.”

“Don’t bring me into your drama,” my sister-in-law says.

“Hey, I was the one to support you and Mikey when you wanted to get your own place. A little potato-salad support wouldn’t hurt ya,” I remind her.

“Shut. It.” Mikey moves closer, staying on Mom and Dad’s side.

“I can’t believe you’re taking their side.” Actually, I’m cool with it. I’m fucking grateful he’s not staying on the sidelines, but is instead joining in on family drama time like he did before the accident.

Suddenly, everyone gets really still, except for Catherine. She puts her hand over her mouth and gasps very loudly. “Is that Paige?”

I pivot, finding Paige standing behind me looking so fine in tight black pants, heels, and a silky-looking blue shirt that I’m ready to take her to bed. Her blond hair is pulled back from her face in a classy do that can in no way, shape, or form be mistaken for a stripper.

Paige giggles as she waves, just like on our first date together. “Hey, y’all. Dallas gave me the code and invited me over, so… if this isn’t a good time, I can get an Uber…”

Shit. She’s nervous. I stride to her before she can leave and gently grab her wrist, bending to kiss her cheek. “Don’t go. We’re just getting started with dinner.”

Her blue eyes roam my face. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Whatever you heard, this is just us. It’s how we do things.” I put my arm around her and all but present her like a trophy I’ve won. In a sense, I do feel like I’ve won something by convincing Paige to date me. “Guys, this is Paige Owens. That’s my dad, Michael Patrick. My mother Bridget. And my pain-in-the-ass brother Mikey and his former angel of a wife, Catherine.”

“It’s very nice to meet everyone. Dallas has told me so many great stories about y’all that I feel like I know each one of you.”

My mother gives Paige an appraising look. “What’s your favorite story?”

“Are you testing her?” I glance at Paige. “You don’t have to play our game.’

“Hush, Patrick.”

Paige smiles. “My favorite story is the one with y’all up at the lake, playing cards, and you made everyone s’mores even though you hate them. That sounded like something my own momma would do, and I don’t think I appreciated her sacrifices until I got older. Some kids take longer than others to realize that.”

Mom beams at her, then opens her arms wide and hugs Paige. “I’m so happy to meet you, dear, and we couldn’t be more thrilled that Patrick is dating such a beautiful, smart woman.”

I stand there in shock, not at Paige’s response—the woman knows how to hold her own and she reeks of sincerity—but at my mom’s. I don’t remember her hugging any of the girls I dated, even before I made it big and the Drake Dolls became a thing.

“Catherine, why don’t we go inside with Paige and whip up some potato salad?” I’ll send Gus out to help Mikey get dry. Patrick, you help your father pick out cuts of meat for the grill.”

We all mumble our agreement as the ladies walk inside. As soon as the door shuts behind them, I turn to Dad and my brother. “What the hell just happened?”

“You brought home a nice girl whose favorite story about you has nothing to do with your NFL career.” Dad grins. “They all bring it back to your career, son.”





CHAPTER 20




Dallas


Paige and I are sitting together, wrapped under a blanket. I’d like to say that I am busy doing naughty things to her, but Catherine and Mikey are beside us and my parents are one row behind us. We’re in my theater room, watching an old rom-com that I can’t remember the name of, but it stars some dude with a British accent who makes all the ladies sigh. Romanov or something like that is his last name.

“You need anything? More popcorn?” I ask Paige.

She shakes her head. “I’m so stuffed that I’m pretty sure Layton will have to grease me so I can get through the door.”

“You can always stay here.”

“Not with your family here.”

“I have a six-bedroom house, bright eyes. Take your pick.”

She gives me an odd look. “Your house is that big?”

“You’ve been here often enough to have noticed how big my house is.”

“I’d say you’re right, but someone has constantly distracted me with all his other big stuff.”

Oh, yeah. I like where this is heading. “You’re the one demanding I give you the big stuff.” I raise the tenor of my voice. “Oh, Dallas, give it to me. Give it to me hard. Spank my ass.” Paige’s eyes grow so round that I start snickering. Her mouth starts opening and closing like a fish gasping. “You know you do. Don’t act so innocent.”