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“They’re not blood related, idiot,” Easton says. “Foster siblings.”

“Ah, right. Sorry.” Ace winces a little. “I’m Ace. Sticking my foot in my mouth a lot is kind of my thing.”

Easton nods. “That tracks.”

“This guy has been bailing me out for a long time now, so he knows better than most.”

“But Ace would give up his left arm for me if I needed something,” Easton says.

“Hey now,” Ace says. “Let’s not get hasty. I’m left-handed. Maybe my right, but never my left.”

“You’re left-handed?” Easton asks. “How did I not know that?”

“He’s a lousy friend,” Ace says. “I doubt he’d even sacrifice his pinky toe for me if it came down to it.”

But now we’re at the front door.

“Ready?” Easton whispers. “I swear, we won’t stay long.”

But from the second we walk through the door, people are waving at him. “Easton, my man,” a man in his forties says almost right after we walk inside.

I release him, partially because it makes him look a little crazy to be standing with my arm hooked through his, but also because the lions are all coming for him, and I run from lions as a general rule.

“I’m going to get a drink,” I say.

Easton freezes. “Jake said you don’t usually?—”

I wave him off, smiling so he knows not to worry. “Not adrinkdrink. Just something to hold in my hand. Go ahead. You can find me over there when you’re done.” I gesture.

Only, he grossly underestimated how in-demand he’d be. It’s been at least thirty minutes, and every time he tries to break away from a group of people, someone else snags him. I actually almost feel sorry for him. He’s definitely trying to leave, but he’s popular.

Meanwhile, I’m making sure this end of the punch table doesnotblow away. It would make a huge mess inside this massive house if it did. With such powerful air vents, you never know what could happen. Sometimes I set my drink down, with a napkin under it so no one inadvertently grabs it. Sometimes I hold it.

I’m flexible.

“You look as bored as I feel,” a man in dark slacks and a sky blue button-down says. He’s handsome in an Italian-model kind of way, with longish hair falling across his face.

“Not bored, no,” I say. “In fact, it’s been pretty entertaining just watching the people in this party. I think the clothes they’re wearing probably cost more than my parents’ home.”

The man’s lips are twitching.

“And I mean that on a person-by-person basis.”

“You might not be wrong.” The man holds out his hand. “Tyler Osborne, Piper Communications.”

“Oh, Tyler, I hate to disappoint you, but you’re currently talking to the most boring person in here.” I lean closer. “My shoes came from DSW, my dress is fromNordstrom Rack, and my watch?” I lift my wrist. “It’s a hand-me-down from my sister.”

He smiles. “You’re actually more interesting than I expected.”

“Oh?”

“Didn’t you come in with Easton Moorland?”

Ugh. “Yes, but we’re just friends. His sister’s married to my brother.”

“You’re family, then,” Tyler says.

“I guess,” I say, “but not really.” I shrug. “I won’t be here long, so you’d be better off getting to know someone more connected, I assure you.”

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