Page 20 of Lucky Strike

“They’re out with your cousins and their friends doing God-knows-what.” Sloane’s voice faded as she disappeared into what I assumed was the kitchen. Maeve raised an eyebrow, fingers to her lips as she mimicked smoking weed. “And Dad’s at the store with Uncle Keegan.”

“They’re throwing a dinner party tonight … even though Thanksgiving is two days away,” murmured Maeve. “They do it every year.”

I blinked at her. “Oh, wow.”

“Crazy, right? Mom loves entertaining,” said Maeve. “Tuesday night is for their friends, Thursday is for family. They’ve done it like this for nearly twenty years. People fly in from all over.”

“I love that. My family’s pretty small.” I wandered over to a large family photo hanging near the piano. Maeve and Tristan were tiny, as was the brother I hadn’t met, Conlan. His rosy cheeks, dark, curling hair and long eyelashes gave him an almost cherubic appearance. I looked over my shoulder at Maeve. “Dinner’s not fancy, is it? I only brought one nice dress for Thanksgiving.”

“Nope, super casual. But you can borrow something if you want,” she said. “Come on, let me give you the grand tour.”

We started in the basement, where there was a wine cellar and game room, explored the main floor, where Sloane was up to her eyeballs in food prep, and finished in the bedrooms upstairs, where I met Keeva and Tate, the Kellys’ blue-eyed Siberian Huskies. “They’re big babies,” Maeve said as they sniffed me. “Once they get used to you, they’ll be begging for snuggles.”

“Hey guys,” I said softly, giving each of the dogs the front of my hand to smell. I’d never had a dog, but I liked them a lot and hoped these two would like me. Keeva gave me a thoughtful lick after a moment, her tail wagging.

“I saved the best for last,” Maeve said, opening a door at the end of the hallway. “Conlan thinks he’s special because he got the guest house, but my room is way better.”

Tate gave a small bark as I followed her inside. I guess he agreed.

The sun set,leaving the sky a deep orange rimmed in indigo as the first guests arrived. Maeve’s brothers, to Sloane’s chagrin, were still MIA. “Give them time,” Mr. Kelly—Owen—said, topping off her wine glass. “They know we eat at seven.”

Peeking at my reflection in the living room window, I tugged at the hem of my borrowed corset minidress. Maeve was taller and thinner than me, so I’d doubted anything of hers would fit, but this one did. It was feminine and sweet, with a square neck and gauzy sleeves.

“You look great,” Maeve said, batting my hand away. “Pink is definitely your color—you have the most beautiful skin, like a really dark tan all year.”

I chuckled. “It’s called melanin, Maeve.”

“Yes, my pale ass knows. Hold on.” Darting into the kitchen, she returned with two glasses and handed me one. “Cheers!” she cried, clinking hers against mine. “To our first Turkey Day together.”

“Cheers,” I echoed, taking a sip. It was a nice, bubbly, pink wine,Prosecco Rosé. It made my mouth tingle in the best way. “This is like, happiness in a sip.”

“Yes!” Maeve drained her glass and licked her lips. “It’s from my parents’ winery.”

My next sip went down the wrong way, and I coughed. “They have awinery?”

“They have two,” she said. “This is from their newest, in the Finger Lakes region of New York.”

I studied the contents of my glass, impressed. “Wow.”

“My mom loves wine—she’s a sommelier, you know. Anyway, drink up!” She waggled her eyebrows. “I put a bottle in our room for later.”

By six o’clock, guests were milling around the wine tables and charcuterie boards Sloane had scattered around the house. Maeve introduced me to so many people that their names and faces and smiles blurred into each other, the prosecco not helping. I was filming Maeve while she played the piano when a flurry of activity erupted near the front door. Loud boy voices filled the room, rising above the din and chatter. Maeve’s song petered out, and she stood. “Took ‘em long enough.”

“Hey, Mae.” One boy broke through the crowd, giving her a quick side-hug as he passed by—her cousin Finn. We’d met at the SweetSixteen. He had auburn hair, and was a little on the shorter side, built like a wrestler. “You seen my dad?”

“In the office, I think,” she said.

Another two boys loped over to where we stood, grinning the grins of the truly stoned. “Look, it’s the Duchess of Edenbrook,” roared one of them, a giant with blue eyes and dark brown hair. He pulled Maeve into a hug, giving her a noogie as she smacked his arm. “How you doin’?”

“Ugh, get off me, Sawyer,” she said, laughing despite the flash in her eyes. “Where’ve you idiots been? You were supposed to be back hours ago.”

“We had things to do,” he said, elbowing a lanky boy with brown skin and a blond fauxhawk as they dissolved into giggles.

Maeve shot me a look. “You see what I have to deal with? Thank God you’re here.”

Sawyer sobered, seeming to notice me for the first time. “Who’s your friend, Maeve?”

“Bria, my roomie at Edenbrook,” she said. “Bria, these are Tristan’s friends, Sawyer and Cameron.”

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