Game Changer by Kelly Jamieson Page 0,15

lacy lingerie I’m tempted to snoop through. I was a gentleman and left her alone in the lingerie department at Target, but now I’m curious what she bought.

Jesus! Here I go again, thinking about Molly’s underwear.

I rub my face and check out the mini bar. I better not drink anything though; we had a few on the plane, and I’m driving the rental car we picked up at LAX.

Finally, she reappears, her hair in messy waves that look casually stylish, and makeup on her eyes again. And lips. They shine with a soft peachy gloss.

“I’m ready.”

“You look…great.” I attempt a casual compliment. She smells good too, like pink grapefruit.

“Thanks. You too.” She smiles at my khaki pants and navy shirt I left loose, sleeves rolled up.

“Okay. Let’s roll.”

She picks up her purse and a sweater. “Let’s make like a rock.”

I frown, holding the key to the car. “What?”

“Let’s make like a rock and roll.”

I drop my head forward in amusement. “Right, right. Sorry.”

She smacks my shoulder. “Keep up, Wynn.”

I grin, a sense of fun fizzing in my chest. I’m not even dreading seeing the family, which I should be. It’s been a year, other than a few quick meetups when playing against the Golden Eagles when I can see my dad and play against my cousin JP, or when we play the Condors and I see my my other cousin Théo, who’s the manager of the Condors.

One thing I didn’t tell Molly about was the tense relationship I have with my dad.

My parents divorced when I was fifteen. It was a brutal time. I blamed my dad for it. It had to be so hard for Mom. I know the fact that I hated Dad really bothered her, but she never once criticized him. To my face, anyway. She was a single mom, and a hockey mom for both Riley and me, which is extra hard. As a teenager, I didn’t appreciate how difficult it had to be for her, and I probably still don’t because I’ve never been through that. And I never will.

So on top of seeing Grandpa, seeing Dad tonight isn’t something I’m all that stoked about either.

But Molly’s happy anticipation of this party where she knows no one is infectious.

Not sure how I’ll explain who she is and why she’s with me. Could be awkward, but we’ll figure it out.

The twenty-minute drive to Uncle Matt’s place in Rolling Hills is scenic, almost rural, winding through palm trees and scrubby hills with the odd mansion tucked into them, then through a more residential neighborhood. I pull up in the big stone driveway of the house, a low ranch-style, which is full of cars, but I slip the rental car in behind a Beemer and turn off the engine. “We’re here.”

Molly slides out before I can open her door, but I close it for her, lock the doors with the fob, and lead the way through the white picket fence and up the paved sidewalk to the front door.

I take a breath. “Okay, if this gets too much for you, just let me know.”

Molly regards me skeptically. “You mean if it gets too much for you.”

“Ha. Maybe.”

Unexpectedly, she reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “It’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words.” I ring the doorbell.

A moment later, it opens. Aunt Aline peers out, her expression first blank, then her mouth opens into an O and she stares. “Oh mon dieu! Jackson!” She opens her arms for a hug.

“What?” I hear my sister’s voice from inside. “Jackson?”

“Come in,” Aline says, stepping aside. “What a surprise!”

I motion Molly inside first, catching Aline’s curious look at her, then lead the way to the entrance to the big living room.

Riley rushes across the room toward me. I grin and hold my arms wide. “Surprise!”

Riley throws herself at me, and I wrap her up in a big hug. “Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re here!”

I squeeze her, affection swelling in my chest. “Hey, little sis.”

I lift my head. Jesus, the room is full. The family seems to have grown.

Dad makes his way across the room toward me, smiling. “Holy shit! What are you doing here, son?”

My gut clenches, but I shrug casually as I release Riley. “Thought I’d surprise you all by showing up a little sooner than I planned. Uh…” I glance over my shoulder, turn and gently draw Molly forward. “Hey everyone, this is Molly.”

The room goes silent, staring at her. Of course they think we’re “together.”

Molly lifts a hand, beaming.