Sebastian Montgomery was the TV media mogul. She’d expected some smooth-talking salesman, but Sebastian slouched in his chair, legs spread as he watched Noah and Will. “If you’re going to teach Noah, you gotta learn how to throw right,” he called out to Will. He was the tallest of them all, probably six-three, and his sable hair, chocolate-brown eyes, and chiseled features were even more mesmerizing up close than they were on camera. Still, she didn’t think he held a candle to Will.

“If you think you can do better, get over here.” Will held up the ball while Noah squealed for another free throw.

“There isn’t room enough for both of us in that pool,” Sebastian shot back.

“You’re just worried you won’t do any better,” Daniel said. He grinned at Harper and told her, “Sebastian always sucked at sports.”

Daniel Spencer owned a nationwide chain of home improvement stores and produced a TV show on do-it-yourself remodeling. With dark, wavy hair and some really impressive muscles, Daniel was a mountain-man type. Someone had mentioned during the course of the afternoon that he was building his own cabin near Tahoe.

“I didn’t suck,” Sebastian said mildly. “I just figured I might as well let you win at something.”

Daniel laughed, taking the ribbing good naturedly. “Still can’t get over that game back in high school where we all piled on you just outside the touchdown zone, can you?”

They called themselves the Mavericks, and they constantly gave each other a hard time. Yet Harper could see the incredibly strong bond between them, along with the way no offense was ever taken. Their connection went right through to the way they all looked after Noah. He wasn’t just Matt’s son, he was precious to all of them, and she had the sense they would each protect him with their lives.

Evan Collins, however, wasn’t quite like the rest. Not that he didn’t belong—he was just as handsome and big and strong as the other Mavericks—but he was quieter and didn’t always join in the banter. Harper wondered if his wife could be the reason. She’d tried to like Whitney, but it wasn’t an easy task. Evan’s wife seemed to wear her sunglasses so she wouldn’t have to waste time actually looking anyone in the eye, and her mouth didn’t seem to be made for smiling. Not even for Noah’s super cute antics.

Of course, just as Harper was thinking uncharitable thoughts about her, Whitney made her presence known. Or maybe it was because she hadn’t been getting the attention she felt she deserved.

Holding up her glass, she waggled it in the air and called out, “Evan, darling, I need another margarita.” She continued texting with one hand.

“I’ll get it,” Jeremy said.

Just as he did at work, if there was something someone needed, her brother jumped to do it. Whitney was the only one who hadn’t said a word to him, so maybe he felt he needed to prove himself to her.

Whitney pulled her sunglasses down to look at Harper over the rims. It was quite possibly the first time the woman had made eye contact with her. “Can he do it?”

Harper tightened her lips for just a second. Be polite. “Yes, he’s perfectly capable of pouring you a margarita out of a pitcher.”

“All right then.” Whitney pushed her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose and handed the glass to Jeremy. “Not too much ice,” she said with a false note of sweetness in her tone.

But Harper doubted there was an ounce of sweetness in her. Yet there had to be a story as to why Evan Collins was even with this woman.

“I put the pitcher of margaritas in the fridge,” Evan told Jeremy. It wasn’t the first time Whitney had demanded a refresher.

“Thanks, Evan,” Jeremy said in his overloud outdoor voice.

Harper felt Will’s eyes on her and glanced up to see him smiling at her. The rest of the guys had gone quiet. Even Noah had dropped down on his butt in the water. Almost as if Whitney’s voice were a sponge that sucked all the fun out of the air.

Thankfully, conversation resumed as Jeremy skipped to the bar. Sebastian pushed up from his seat and kicked off his deck shoes. He hunkered down at the edge of the kiddie pool and asked Noah, “How about a swim?”

“Yay!” Noah crowed.

Each of the Mavericks had been taking turns throughout the day teaching Noah to swim. He could tread water for at least a minute, and he didn’t panic if his head went under. Harper remembered teaching Jeremy to swim when he was a little boy, and she smiled as Will lifted Noah out of the small pool and secured his water wings.

No question about it, he would make an awesome dad. And if she’d been able to pay attention to anything but Will, his laughter, his smile, then maybe she might have noticed Jeremy returning at a run with Whitney’s cocktail in his hand. She looked over at him just as his foot caught on a flagstone, and the tall glass lurched, splashing the contents all over Whitney.

“Look what you did!” Whitney’s glare skewered Jeremy. “This swimsuit is one of a kind couture!”

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy whispered, clutching the plastic margarita glass to his chest, getting his shirt all wet. He backed away, out of the line of fire.

Whitney turned on Harper. “Sorry isn’t good enough.”

“It was an accident,” Harper said. She wouldn’t humiliate Jeremy by apologizing for a simple accident. Though later, when they were alone, she’d remind him about running with anything in his hand. “I’ll be happy to pay for it if it’s ruined.” Even if it was likely worth more than she made in a month.




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