Page 94 of Slapshot Bride

It’s my first time out, with Easton, officially.

Nothing special. Just a team cookout, but it’s more than enough.

My nerves are threatening to drown me, because I’m anticipating the looks. They’ve all seen the news in the tabloids. The headlines:

The woman who’s stringing along Preston Sinclair, and famous hockey star, Easton Blake. The troubled Ex. The Sinclair bride. The Unpredicted Affair.

The list goes on. But one step at a time, and soon, it’ll die down.

The Saturday sun is high, and the car is turning off a private drive into a gated cul-de-sac I don’t know, one of those quiet residential streets that could be anywhere in Southern California but has the specific weekend hush of a private estate.

Coach Brennan’s house is at the end of it. Low and long, all wood and glass, screaming of quiet luxury.

There’s a line of cars up front and I begin to get cold feet.

My eyes dart to Easton.

He's next to me in a dark green Henley with the sleeves pushed up and his hand on my thigh.

“Are you sure they’ll want me here? I mean, with the recent scandal and…”

“Trust me, Riley. The guys are dying to meet you. And they’re curious too.”

He chuckles.

I don’t know how to feel about that, but it makes me smile.

“Come on, sweetheart, you’ll love it.”

With a kiss to the cheek, he gets out, comes around, and opens my door. He offers his hand. I take it.

The unease makes my legs weak, but he’s there to hold me.

I follow him through the side gate, into a backyard that smells like charcoal and cut grass and something spicy on a grill, and I brace for the small moment of truth.

They turn all at once, and the eyes are many.

I mentally count. Twelve? Thirteen? A kid?

They wave.

“Easton!” The shout comes from the grill, where a tall dark-haired man is standing with a beer in one hand.

“About time,” he calls. “Bring her over here.”

The guys cheer on, and I exhale for the first time all morning.

Easton walks me across the yard. The dark-haired man at the grill is Kai, the captain. Easton introduces him, and he waves.

“Glad you came, Riley,” He offers his hand, and I shake it. “Welcome to the team,” he says, raising his beer with a warm smile.

“Thank you,” I smile, unable to contain it.

Easton’s hand wraps around my waist, and he pulls me close as if it’s a silent acknowledgement that I’m safe and welcome here.

“Settle in. Have a wonderful night,” Kai says and turns back to the grill.

Behind me, another man appears. He appears much younger as my eyes scan the rest, who have now gone back to their businesses. With others making their way towards us.