"When did my house turn into a hangout for every grossly overpaid, terminally pampered professional football player in northern Illinois?"
"We like it here," Jason said. "It reminds us of home."
"Plus, no women around." Leandro Collins, the Bears' first-string tight end emerged from the office munching on a bag of chips. "There's times when you need a rest from the ladies."
Annabelle shot out her arm and smacked him in the side of the head. "Don't forget who you're talking to."
Leandro had a short fuse, and he'd been known to take out a ref here and there when he didn't like a call, but the tight end merely rubbed the side of his head and grimaced. "Just like my mama."
"Mine, too," Tremaine said with happy nod.
Annabelle spun on Heath. "Their mother! I'm thirty-one years old, and I remind them of their mothers."
"You act like my mother," Sean pointed out, unwisely as it transpired, because he got a swat in the head next.
Heath exchanged sympathetic looks with the boys, then gave Annabelle his full attention, speaking softly and patiently. "Tell me how this happened, sweetheart."
Annabelle threw up her hands. "I have no idea. In the summer it was just Dean dropping in. Then he brought Jason and Dewitt with him. Then Arte asked me to keep my eye on Sean, so I invited him over-just once, mind you-and he showed up with Leandro and Matt. A Star here, a Bear there… One thing led to another. And now I have a potentially deadly riot on my hands, right in the middle of my living room."
"I told you not to worry about that," Jason said. "This is neutral territory."
"Yeah, right." Her nostrils flared. "Neutral territory until somebody gets mad, and then you guys'll be all, 'We're sorry, Annabelle, but you seem to be missing your front windows and half the second floor.'"
"Only person's been mad since we got here is you," Sean muttered.
Annabelle's expression turned so hilariously murderous that Eddie snorted beer-or maybe African violet fertilizer-right out through his nose, which cracked everybody up.
Annabelle lunged for Heath, grabbing his shirtfront in her fists, pulling herself up on her toes, and hissing at him through clenched teeth. "They're going to get drunk, and then one of these idiots is going to plow his Mercedes into a car full of nuns. And I'll be liable. This is Illinois. We have host laws in this state."
For the first time Heath was disappointed in her. "Didn't you get their keys?"
"Of course I got their keys. Do you think I'm nuts? But-"
The front door blew open, and Mr. Hot Shit Robillard waltzed in all decked out in Oakleys, diamonds, and cowboy boots. He gave a two-finger wave like the fucking king of England.
"Oh, shit. Kill me now." Annabelle's grip on his shirt tightened. "Somebody's going to take him out tonight. I can feel it. He'll end up with a broken arm or crippled, and then I'll have to deal with Phoebe."
Heath gently pried her fingers loose. "Relax. Lover Boy can take care of himself."
"All I wanted was to be a matchmaker. Is that so hard to understand? A simple matchmaker." She slumped back on her heels. "My life is crap."
Leandro frowned. "Annabelle, you're starting to get on my nerves."
Three long strides brought Robillard to her side. He gave Heath a long look, then looped his arm around Annabelle and kissed her hard on the lips. Fury exploded behind Heath's eyelids. His right hand curled into a fist, but this was Annabelle's house, and she'd never forgive him if he did what he wanted to.
"Annabelle's my woman," Dean announced as he broke the kiss and gazed into her eyes. "Anybody gives her trouble has to deal with me… and my offensive line."
Annabelle looked annoyed, which made Heath feel a hell of a lot better. "I can take care of myself. What I can't deal with is a house full of drunken morons."
"That is so harsh," Eddie said, looking injured.
Dean stroked her shoulder. "You guys know how irrational pregnant women can get."
Way too many heads started nodding.
"Did you take that test like I told you, baby doll?" Dean slipped his arm around her again. "Do you know yet if you're carryin' my love child?"
Apparently that was too much for Annabelle, because she started to laugh. "I need a beer." She grabbed Tremaine's bottle and drained what was left.
"You shouldn't drink if you're pregnant," Eddie Skinner said with a frown.
Leandro swatted him in the head.
Heath realized he was having the best time he'd had in weeks.
Which reminded him of Delaney.
Annabelle had been too preoccupied to spot her through the crowd, and Delaney hadn't moved from her place inside the front door. She stood with her back to the wall and that ever-pleasant smile frozen on her face, but her eyes were glazed and just a little wild. Delaney Lightfield, horsewoman, champion trapshooter, golfer, and expert skier, had just glimpsed her future, and she didn't like what she saw.
"Don't anybody let me eat more than one egg roll."
Annabelle set her empty bottle on a stack of magazines. "I can hardly zip my jeans now." She rolled her eyes at Eddie, who was frowning at her. "And I'm not pregnant."
Robillard still wanted to make trouble. "Only because I haven't been trying hard enough. We'll take care of that tonight, baby doll."
Annabelle rolled her eyes and looked around for a place to sit, but every chair was occupied, so she ended up in Sean's lap. She sat there primly, but comfortably. "And I can only have one slice of pizza."
Heath needed to do something about Delaney, and he made his way over to her. "Sorry about this."
"I should mix," Delaney said determinedly.
"Not if you don't want to."
"It's just… It's a little overwhelming. The house is so small. And there are so many of them."
"Let's go outside."
"Yes, that's probably the best idea."
Heath drew her onto the front porch. For a few moments, they didn't speak. Delaney gazed at the house across the street, wrapping her arms around herself. He rested his shoulder against a post, the ring box heavy against his hip. "I can't leave her," he said.
"Oh, no, no. I wouldn't expect you to."
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I guess you needed to see my life for what it is. This is a pretty good sample."
"Yes. It was silly of me. I didn't…" She gave a tight, self-deprecating laugh. "I like the skybox better."
He understood, and he smiled. "The skybox does keep reality at a distance."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I imagined it differently."
"I know you did."
Somebody turned the music up again. She slipped her thumbs under the collar of her jacket and gazed around. "It's only a matter of time before the neighbors call the police."
The cops tended to look the other way when the city's top athletes misbehaved, but he doubted that would reassure her.
Her fingers crept to her pearls. "I don't understand how Annabelle can be so comfortable with all that chaos."
He settled on the simplest explanation. "She has brothers."
"So do I."
"Annabelle is one of those people who gets bored easily. I guess you could say she creates her own excitement." Just like him.
She shook her head. "But it's so… disruptive."
Which was exactly why Annabelle got herself into this sort of thing.
"My life's pretty disruptive," he said.
"Yes. Yes, I see that now."
A few moments of silence ticked by. "Would you like me to call you a cab?" he asked quietly.
She hesitated, then nodded. "That might be for the best."
While they waited, they apologized to each other, both of them saying pretty much the same thing, that they'd thought it would work out, but it was better they'd found out now that it wouldn't. The ten minutes it took for the cab to arrive lasted forever. Heath gave the driver a fifty and helped Delaney in. She smiled up at him, more thoughtful than sad. She was a terrific person, and he experienced a fleeting moment of regret that he wasn't the kind of man who could be satisfied with beauty, brains, intelligence, and athletic ability. No, it took the Tinker Bell factor to suck him in. As the cab drove away, he felt himself relax for the first time since the night they'd met.