Page 70 of Defending her Heart

“Tell us what you want to eat. Rowan, Kendall, I mean, Miss Wentworth, and I will take care of the food,” Riley says.

Fucking Christ. My daughter has the entire table wrapped around her finger.

“Will you all bring presents too?”

“Paisley,” I scold.

Buck barks out a laugh. “That’s the number one rule when attending a birthday party. Do you have a list made yet?”

“No she doesn’t have a fu—” I bite my tongue and take a deep breath. “She’s five.”

“Turning six,” Kendall corrects, then curls her lips around her teeth to hold back her laugh.

“My daughter is turning six. She has everything she could possibly want. There’s no need to spoil her with more presents. Besides, I already got her a gift.”

“Can I have more princess dress up clothes and roller skates and a new sled to go sledding when it snows? And ice skates. Carly said they’re the same as roller skates but on ice. And I like the books Miss Wentworth reads to me in class. And cool hair ties so she can do my hair pretty when she comes over.”

Buck jerks his head up and stares at me with a toothy grin.

Realizing no matter what I say I’ll be vetoed, I return to my meal and focus on my food instead of the details of the party I’m throwing tomorrow.

So much for maintaining my privacy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

NASH

We stayed later than I expected at Walker and Riley’s last night, and since I’m hosting a party this afternoon, I didn’t ask Kendall to come over. Not that I didn’t want her to.

On the bright side, she offered to come over early and watch Paisley while I go to practice so she and her friends can start preparations for the party.

My one assignment is to show up and not be a party pooper. Kendall’s words to me this morning as I left. I was hoping for a goodbye kiss or even a little groping, but with Paisley glued to her side, none of that was happening.

I didn’t see Bankes or Buck much at practice since they worked on offensive plays and defense had their own talking to. Los Angeles’s offense is strong, and they’re going to challenge our D-line. Their quarterback is quick on his feet and gets rid of the ball in less than three seconds. It doesn’t give our defense much time to read the play. But we’re feeling confident after this morning’s film and new drills.

Coach lets us leave a little after noon since we have to be back at the ass crack of dawn for our flight tomorrow.

I pull into the garage and can hear music and laughter before I even open the door to the mudroom. No one notices me as I take in the scene in the kitchen. Kendall twirls Paisley as they dance to the kids pop music Paisley loves so much. Her poofy pink dress puffs out in a billowy cloud and Kendall films it all with her phone.

Pink and purple streamers hang from the kitchen and family room ceiling, and a rainbow of balloons in the same color create an archway between the informal family room and the formal space at the front of the house. Pink and purple tablecloths arestretched over the kitchen table where fruit skewers, juice boxes, and popcorn are neatly set out in more pink and purple platters.

In only a few hours, Kendall has transformed my house into my little girl’s dream party. My dad opens the door to the basement carrying an old-fashioned ice cream maker I forgot I had.

“Let me help.” I take the box from him. “Why did you haul this out? We haven’t used it since Anna and I were kids.”

“Kendall and your mother were talking about an ice cream bar on the phone this morning when she called about the party, and I reminded her of this old baby.” He pats the box. “Your mom went out to get more toppings.”

Shit. I never told them about the party. “Sorry, Dad. It all came to be last minute. I didn’t mean to not invite you.”

He waves a hand in the air. “No apology needed. Kendall explained. She’s amazing with Paisley. Your mother and I approve.”

“What? Oh, no.” I shake my head. “We’re just, uh, friends.”

“Hm.” Ignoring my dad’s accurate perception, I move past him and place the ice cream maker on the counter by the sink.

Paisley notices me and screams, “Daddy!” She rushes into my legs and holds on tight like I haven’t seen her in months instead of hours. “It’s my birthday!”

“Happy birthday, Sweet Pea.” I pick her up and she kisses my face. “You look very pretty, but you always do. Is this a new dress?”

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