“You heard the party boss,” Weston drawled. “Don’t make her come after you.”
“Yeah, Maxie,” Bryce snarked.
Maxwell turned his back to the group and gave Eryn a slow kiss until her knees melted. Then he grinned, pecked her nose, and turned toward the others. “You were saying?”
The lodge door opened, and Stephanie and Tate stomped in. “We’re here. Let the party begin!” Stephanie called.
“It already did.” Bryce slumped into one of the easy chairs. “You’re late.”
“We had to make sure our babysitters weren’t going to be so busy kissing they’d ignore Jamie. Not that he allows himself to be ignored.” Stephanie glanced between Weston and Eryn. “Maybe you didn’t want to know that about your parents.”
“More power to them.” Weston shook his head, but he had a small smirk.
“What he said.” Eryn exchanged a nod with him.
Paisley waved her arms. “Get your coats off, and join our charades game. Guys against girls, and Maxwell was just ready to get us started.”
“No snacks?” Tate sent a hopeful look toward the kitchen.
“Like you haven’t eaten this week. Games first. Honestly, you guys are more trouble than a dozen tweenagers.”
Eryn leaned against Maxwell while they waited. Paisley might think this group was rebellious, but Eryn was in seventh heaven. This was the first time she’d helped plan a party of peers, let alone one to honor her boyfriend. These were all her friends now, too.
Even Bryce?
She could reserve judgment on him. Probably.
“Finally.” Maxwell held Eryn close in the dim lantern light as the music swirled around them. “This was the part of my party I was looking forward to.”
She smiled up at him, and he thought his heart would explode.
“May I have this dance?”
Who was Bryce talking to? Not Eryn, hopefully. Maxwell turned his girl enough to see Bryce with his hand out to Kaci.
“Looks like we’re the only unattached ones here,” Bryce said.
She huffed. “I suppose, but don’t let it go to your head.”
“I’m a good dancer,” he protested.
“You’d better be, because if you tread on my toes, that’s the end of it.”
“Scout’s honor.”
Maxwell stifled a laugh. As if the Sullivan boys had been in Scouts. His father had seen no use in the kind of preparedness that particular movement taught, and Maxwell hadn’t cared enough to fight him. Take away his chess club, and he might have protested.
A half hour later, they broke for refreshments… again. Eryn left for the restroom, leaving Maxwell standing in the great room with a plate of canapés.
“Nice party, Maxie.”
He turned to Bryce. Would it really have been insufferably rude not to invite this brother? “All Paisley and Eryn’s doing.”
“Must be nice to have a girlfriend.”
“You’ve had dozens.”
Bryce shrugged. “Whatever.”