You Were Mine (Rosemary Beach #9)(47)

Harlow took another drink and shook her head, still grinning as she watched them walk off. “I swear, I’m going to have my hands full when she gets older. He spoils her rotten.”

Della walked over and sat down with the bowl of fruit. “I will admit, seeing him with her makes me want to have babies tomorrow.”

Everyone laughed, because we knew we were all thinking the same thing. Grant Carter wrapped around a fifteen-pound bundle of pink sweetness would make any female want babies.

Tripp

Grant walked back outside with Lila Kate in his arms. She was tucked up against his chest like it was the only place she wanted to be.

I could have had that.

Dammit, there was that sharp pain that came along with the thought. We had been kids. It wouldn’t have been the fairy tale Grant’s fatherhood had turned out to be. Shoving that thought aside, I glanced over at London, who was texting. She’d been doing that since we had come out here. Perfecting the art of looking completely bored and messing with her phone.

Della had been generous enough to invite her to stay in the kitchen with them when we arrived, but London had held on tightly to me and declined the offer. So she could come out here to play on her phone, apparently. I reached for the beer Woods had brought me and took a long drink.

“The girls have margaritas inside, London,” Grant said. “I’m sure they would be happy to share.”

She glanced up from her phone and gave him a flirty smile. She’d done that several times since we’d come out here. “I’m fine out here. Thank you, though.”

He shrugged and took his seat, adjusting Lila Kate on his shoulder. She lifted her head and gave us a brief appraisal before sticking her thumb in her mouth and laying her head back on his chest again.

“Grill will be ready for the steaks in a few minutes,” Woods announced, standing up and going over to check on the flame. “Y’all know how your women want their steaks cooked?” he asked.

“Harlow is medium well,” Grant said. “I’m medium.”

“Blaire and I are both medium,” Rush said as he walked behind Nate, who was scrambling up the stairs.

“Medium well,” I said, then turned to London. “What about you?”

She glanced up and scrunched her nose. “I don’t eat red meat.”

I had told the woman we were going to a barbecue. What the hell did she think we were going to eat? “So you’re not going to eat?” I asked.

She gave a small shrug. “I’m sure they have salad or something.”

Woods cleared his throat and glanced back down at the fire. He was trying not to laugh. “One of you run and ask Bethy how she eats her steak.”

“She likes it well done. We’ve had this conversation with her before. Blaire was appalled and accused her of ruining a good piece of meat,” Rush said.

Bethy was here. I hadn’t realized she’d arrived.

And the fact that Rush knew how she took her steak annoyed me. I didn’t know shit like that. I’d never eaten steak with Bethy.

“I’m going to go see what other sides Della has, and, uh . . .” I stood up, making an excuse to go inside. “I’ll be right back.”

I didn’t wait for London to say she was going with me.

Stepping into the house, I heard their laughter immediately. Bethy’s stood out among the others. She was enjoying their company. I almost turned around and went back outside. Seeing me might ruin the happy mood she was in. I never brought a smile to her face. But I wanted to see her.

When I entered the kitchen, Blaire’s eyes met mine, and she smiled. “Hey, Tripp.”

The other three heads turned in my direction. Although I didn’t miss that Bethy’s was the last to look my way, I smiled and tried to look casual. “You bored with the male conversation outside?” Della asked.

“Y’all look like you’re having more fun in here,” I replied.

“Oh, we are,” Della assured me.

They all were looking at me as if they wanted to know why I had come into their lair. I had to say something. Staring at Bethy was too obvious. “I was just checking to see what sides you have to go with the steak. London doesn’t eat red meat.”

As soon as it was out of my mouth, I wanted to pull it back in. Why had I brought up London, dammit? Bethy turned to study her margarita, and Harlow reached for some fruit. Blaire actually glared at me.

I’d pissed off the women. Great.

“Uh, sure. We have strawberry salad, baked potatoes, asparagus, and butter rolls. If I’d known she didn’t eat red meat, I could have gotten her some salmon.”

Bethy was drinking her margarita like it was water. Her laughter was gone, and it was all my fault. Just because I wanted to see her.

“That’s fine. She knew it was a barbecue. She should have spoken up before now. She can eat the sides. Sure she eats some of that.”

“She can eat the spinach leaves out of the strawberry salad. I’m sure that’s what she normally eats,” Bethy said, and tipped her margarita glass back again.

Harlow’s eyes went wide, and Blaire ducked her head to snicker.

No one else said anything.

Was Bethy taking a jab at London? Or was I reading this wrong?

“I’m sure you’re right,” I finally replied, and Bethy turned her head to look up at me. I was afraid I would see something there that would upset me, but instead, she looked ready to laugh. Her lips pressed together as if she was holding in her amusement. She was making fun of London. My chest tightened. She was jealous. Bethy wasn’t exactly moving on after all.