Page 33 of Reckless Encore

He walked into the hall, to the front door, then out into the yard. A car waited in the drive, the headlights momentarily blinding him. He jogged to the passenger door and sank inside.

“You all set?” Blake asked from the driver’s seat.

“Yep. Let’s do this.”

Fifteen minutes later, they had a full car with the addition of Mason and Ryan in the back, as they approach Sean’s new sprawling mansion, half a mile down the road from Mason’s Goochland home.

“It’s time to get the party started.” Blake cut the engine at the end of the drive and slid from the car.

They made their way around the side of the house, to the backyard where Sean sat behind a table covered with food.

“You’re late.” He held up a half-empty glass. “I started hours ago. You guys have to catch up.”

Mason glanced from Mitch to Blake to Ryan, then dusted his hands together. “Challenge accepted.”

Shit.Mitch’s Spidey senses tingled. “I’ll let you guys go in hard without me. I don’t want to drink too much just in case—”

“Fuck that, man.” Sean pushed from his chair and crouched over a cooler to pull out a bottle of bourbon. “You’re celebrating the upcoming birth of your child. You can’t be half-assed about it. Don’t you care about your kid? Don’t you want them to know how much you cherish their existence?”

Blake chuckled.

Mitch scowled. Peer pressure had always been a living, breathing thing in their tight group. And he happened to be the most susceptible. “Fuck you guys. I only plan on having a few beers.”

That plan proved to be null and void three hours later when Sean slid the sixth glass of bourbon toward him.

He groaned. “Come on. I’ve gotta be at my best tomorrow to keep Chase out of Allie’s hair. She’s been too tired to look after him lately.”

“S’all good.” Blake clapped him on the back. “You already started the night off properly—beer before liquor, tomorrow you’ll recover quicker.”

“Liquor before beer, you end up a queer,” Mason finished.

Sean snorted. “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

Mitch doubted it, too. But the alcoholic buzz felt fucking fantastic. “Fine. Just one more.”

Three more later, and they were all standing around the basketball court at the side of Sean’s house.

Mitch squinted at the hoop bathed in a bright yellow glow from the outside lights as he lifted the glass to his mouth and accidentally clinked his teeth. “Motherfucker.”

Shit.His head spun. Not a good sign.

“If I get this one in, I get naming rights to your kid.” Blake prepared to throw the basketball. “It’s only fair, seeing as I’m the reason the two of you got together.”

“You’re the reason?” Mitch sputtered. “Bullshit. I scored Allie all on my own.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Mason shushed them with a frantic wave of his hand. “I’m the most important, so I should get naming rights. I only scored a middle name with Tyler. I think I’m special enough to deserve a bit more than that from your little nugget.”

“First and foremost—” Mitch glared. “—my child is not a nugget. And second…”

What had he been about to say? He frowned and pondered his crappy concentration.

Mason pushed to his feet. “I say we battle it out on the court. Two on two. Then the winning team goes one on one.”

“Nope.” Mitch shook his head. “Nope. Nope. Nope.”

He might not have been the sharpest tool there, but he knew making any promises about his kid would end with deadly threats toward his manhood from his hormonal wife.

“Come on. Have a little fun.” Blake lunged for him, bending him over with a rough neck grab. “If I can get the ball in the hoop from the halfway line, I get naming rights.”

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