8. Ophelia #3
We’re among the first to arrive, and after checking in with Sarah and the catering staff, I return to find my date talking with Remi and Serena.
We exchange pleasantries, and I stand beside Antonio without actually touching him.
It feels unnatural because when we’re at my house, it’s a rare moment when we’re not touching in some way, but I feel like if I looped my arm through his or even brushed against his arm, my physical attraction would be broadcast all over my face like a projection screen.
Hey, everyone. I’ve been doing the bad and dirty with Antonio, and guess what? I’m going to do it again when he takes me home. Probably multiple times.
No, it’s best to keep my distance.
Helix and Nicolette arrive next, and we all make a fuss over my daughter-in-law’s small baby bump, which has only recently become noticeable. As more guests arrive, the room begins to fill with chatter and laughter.
When I hear excitement gather around the entrance, we turn as a group to see Phoenix entering with his football star wife on his arm.
It takes them a moment to work their way to where we’re standing because everyone in the room wants to speak to Jordie McNamara-Hale.
She’s a tight end for Houston’s WNFL team, and the Dragons are undefeated so far in their young season.
Phoenix, ever the jokester, straightens his bowtie dramatically when they reach us. “God, my fans are rabid. It’s exhausting.”
His twin cuffs him on the back of his head. “No one wants to see you, dimwit.” He gives Jordie, a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, sis. Great game last week.”
Her turquoise eyes sparkle with excitement. “Thank you. I think we have a good shot this year.”
“Of course you do,” I say, giving my girl a hug. “And you look fantastic.”
Jordie is a bit of a tomboy, usually wearing athleisure, but when she goes to events, she dutifully dresses up. Tonight she’s wearing a black halter-neck jumpsuit with a white tuxedo collar, and she’s a complete knockout.
“Thanks, Mom,” she says, holding onto me for a few extra seconds. “It’s not too low-cut, is it?”
“Not at all, honey. It’s perfect.”
“That’s what the stylist who did my makeup said. And my husband agreed, but it’s hard to take his word for it because you raised a bit of a pervert,” she replies with a teasing wink.
“Don’t I know it,” I say with mock exasperation.
I love the easy and open relationship I have with both my daughters-in-law.
They are so precious to me. “Thank you for getting all dressed up and coming out tonight. And for your generous donations. I’m sure the signed gear will bring a lot of money from the silent auction. ”
Jordie towers over me with her tall frame, and she smiles affectionately down at me. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else, Mom.”
She turns and gives Antonio a big hug before doing the same to Nicolette, and then the talk turns to babies.
“I’m enjoying the pregnancy now that the morning sickness has subsided,” Nic says, taking the glass of sparkling water the server brings to her. “I actually feel really great.”
Phoenix and Jordie share a sly look, and Remi narrows his eyes, waggling a finger at the couple. “What was that look? Is there something you two want to tell us?”
Phoenix kisses his wife’s sleek blonde ponytail. “No, but Jordie said she might want to start trying after this season is over.”
“If we win another Super Bowl,” she clarifies to the group.
Excitement thrums through me at the thought of a third grandchild. “I never want to be that pushy mother-in-law, but goooo, Dragons!” I cheer, pretending to wave pom-poms in the air, making everyone laugh.
Another rumble of enthusiastic murmurs comes from the door, and Jordie cranes her neck to see. “I think the hockey players just arrived,” she says, grinning.
The hockey players in question are two members of the Dallas Brewers.
Baylor Ward is a brawny Black man who is Jordie’s half-brother, and he’s accompanied by his lovely wife, Holly.
Reno Swain, Jordie’s brother-in-law, is the other player, and he’s escorting a blonde woman who is almost Jordie’s exact replica, though Juliette is over a decade older than her little sister.
The two men tower above everyone else, and it’s obvious it will take them a few minutes before they reach us because at least thirty people have crowded around the hockey stars. When I swivel back around to my small circle, I let out a little yelp.
J.P. Jenkins is standing directly in front of me, so close I can smell the beer on his breath.
“Hi, Ophelia,” he gushes, and I do my best not to wince.
“Hello, J.P.”
I feel a thick arm wrap around my waist, and I recognize the possessive touch of Antonio. He eases me back a few inches, putting a bit of space between J.P. and me.
“You look great in that dress,” he slurs, his eyes dragging down my body a tad too slowly for comfort. I’m pretty sure I hear a growl from my fake-not-fake date.
“I think you know my sons and their beautiful wives, but I’m not sure you’ve met my date,” I say, hitting the last two words slowly. “This is Antonio Walsh.”
J.P.’s eyes travel to my right, meeting a wall of tuxedo-covered chest before rising, up, up, up to find a scowl that’s evident even behind the dark beard.
“Oh. Hi.”
Antonio doesn’t answer, letting the sharpness of his green gaze talk for him. It should be intimidating, but the pest doesn’t seem to be getting the message because he turns his wobbly grin on me again.
“I hope you’ll save me a dance,” he slurs. “Like you promised.”
My smile is tight. “I promised you no such thing, J.P. I told you I would be very busy tonight with the event.”
“Plus, she has to dance with her favorite son,” Phoenix pipes up.
“That would be me,” Helix throws in.
“Excuse me, I’m the oldest,” Remi adds, “so I get first dibs on the dancing.
Phoenix rolls his eyes. “I’m a much better dancer than you two.”
“Only because you and Jordie take ballroom lessons every week,” his twin points out.
As they bicker amongst themselves, I notice Antonio hasn’t moved his gaze from the smaller man still standing in front of me with a hopeful smile on his face as he stares at my boobs.
“Go.” The word is low and menacing, and J.P. finally stops ogling me long enough to snap his gaze to Antonio, who utters only one more word. “Now.” It was spoken quietly but with enough heat to melt the polar ice caps.
J.P. takes a step back and flits his eyes toward me. “I’ll come find you later, Ophelia.”
“It will be kind of hard for him to come find you if I rip off his balls,” Antonio whispers so only I can hear as the other man scurries away like a mouse.
Nicolette, on my other side, links her arm through mine, and I swivel my head toward her to find a knowing smile on her lips. “That was kinda hot,” she murmurs.
I suppress a giggle because she’s not wrong. I think I like the possessive, alpha side of my date.