A Very Badd Christmas (The Badd Brothers #19)

8. Hayden

CHAPTER 8

hayden

S nowflakes swirled in the air, stirred by a restless wind coming off the passage. The sky was gray and leaden, the color of pewter. Beside me, Mom held the black rope handles of the gift bag she insisted on—inside was not a bottle of wine or whiskey, but a humungous three-wick holiday scented candle and a kit for mulling spiced wine.

"I'm not showing up to a holiday party empty-handed, Hayden McCaffrey," she'd said, as expected.

I had told her it was just a get-together over the holidays, but that didn’t matter to Mom. I hadn't told her anyone famous would be there because Mom would most likely freak out. Better to just blindside her with it.

A buzzing became audible, and then after another few moments, the buzzing became a twin-engine seaplane, bright yellow with a black stripe on the trailing edge of each wing and the vertical stabilizer. The aircraft settled gently onto the water down the middle of the Passage and then taxied toward us, coming to a gentle halt at the end of the dock just a few feet away. Spotting Brock behind the controls, I waved and pressed my fingers against the small of Mom's back.

"This is us," I said, hiking the bag containing the dry-cleaned suit on my shoulder.

Brock waved as we approached. I opened the door and helped Mom in and then slid in after her, putting Mom in the seat beside Brock and taking the rear bench for myself. Brock handed us both headsets and then helped Mom get buckled in while I handled my seatbelt. Moments later, we were airborne and banking around.

Once he had the seaplane on the correct trajectory, he grinned at Mom. "Evening, Mrs. McCaffrey. How are you this fine evening?"

Mom held the gift bag on her lap and returned the smile. "I'm doing just wonderful, thank you. But you must call me Kaye."

"My name is Brock Badd." He indicated the bag on her lap. "I hope that's not a gift."

Mom lifted her chin. "It most certainly is. I have never once shown up to the home of a stranger without a gift, and I don't plan to start now, young man."

Brock snickered. "Yes ma'am. Understood."

Mom nodded.

"That's what I told Em," I said. "Showing up empty-handed goes against her religion."

"We aren't imposing, are we?" Mom asked. "I wouldn't want to feel like I'm crashing a family affair."

Brock just laughed. "Not even remotely, Kaye. It's just a big ol' shindig, and we're always happy to have new faces around. Makes a good time even better."

I reached up and squeezed Mom's shoulder. "Told you, Mom. It'll be fun." To Brock, I said, “So, is this the whole crew, or what?"

He nodded. "Just about, I think. Poppy and Errol won't be showing up till later on; their flight gets in at…eight, I think? They're coming from New Zealand. One of the cousins is picking them up from the docks since by then all the adults will be in no shape to drive."

It was a short flight, and we were touching down and tying up at the private dock less than ten minutes from taking our seats. Brock helped my mother down and then offered her his arm, charming her and making her laugh as they ascended the long, shallow steps leading up to the house.

The house was lit up, glowing a soft, inviting yellow, and the murmur of voices and peals of laughter echoed off the water. As we approached the back deck, Christmas music floated to us—Bing Crosby crooning about a white Christmas. On the deck, low rectangular tables featured flickering gas fires set within beds of glass beads and blocks, and tall propane space heaters stood guard by the accordion sliding doors, which were open a few feet, letting out the noise and heat and letting in cold air. A handful of men were clustered around one of the fireplace tables, sipping whiskey and puffing on cigars, barking laughter overlapping with chatter. A swarm of kids ranging from perhaps ten or eleven to young teenagers were gathered at the top of the hill on the far of the house, bundled up in snow gear, each one clutching a saucer sled. The hill was magnificent for sledding, a long, steep slope. The hill had been groomed for sledding, too, the snow packed down and sprayed with water to make it extra slick, steps dug into the snow beside the run with a thick rope as a guide rail. At the bottom of the run, the snow had been piled up into a high snowbank to arrest momentum safely. Kids were screaming as they hurtled down the run at what had to be dangerous speeds, only to slide up the end of the hill and back down. One figure stood at the bottom and another at the top, and as soon as the run was clear, the figure at the bottom would raise his or her hand and drop it, and the next person in line would take their turn down the hill.

Mom's hand fluttered at her throat. "Oh my, that looks… dangerous."

Brock just laughed. “Nah. Bast has been making that run for years. The worst that's ever happened was a bloody nose. That was…god, who was that? Liam? It was Liam, I think, and he decided he wanted to throw himself off the sled halfway down just to see what would happen. No one has ever broken anything. The older cousins take turns making sure only one sled goes down at a time." He grinned. “The adults have been known to make a few runs once the booze has been flowing. You want to take a run at it, Kaye?"

Mom just stared at him. "My hip might break just watching, but thank you. I'll leave that to you youngsters."

Brock cackled. "I'm over fifty. Hardly a youngster. And you can't be, what, a day over sixty?"

Mom rolled her eyes, playful swatting his shoulder as we reached the deck. "Oh, you. You're a real charmer, aren't you?"

The group of men gathered on the deck were all new to me, but they all waved at me with either a tumbler or a cigar as if it was normal for random strangers to show up.

I followed Brock and Mom inside. Mom froze just inside. I stepped in and rested my hands on her shoulders, murmuring in her ear. "Breathe, Ma. I felt the same my first time."

She sucked in a sharp breath, and her shoulders sank back down, and then she squared them, let out the breath, and marched forward.

Dru was at the stove, stirring something in a huge pot, wearing a bright red apron with Rudolph on the front, his nose a red-blinking Christmas light. Around the island—which was laden with a mind-boggling array of food—people were clustered and crowded, having roughly ten different conversations, some of which were being shouted across the room. In the living room, the massive sectional was stuffed with more people, as was the ottoman; a few people were even sitting on the back of the couch with their knees wedged around the shoulders of the person in front of them. The door to the basement was open, and more laughter and chatter and music floated up from the stairwell. The TV was on in the den, playing Elf , and several of the oldest cousins were in there, half-watching the movie and mostly trading playful insults and good-natured arguments about who-knew-what.

Bast saw us, grabbed a hand-made wooden box from a counter, and came toward us with it. He leaned toward me and clapped me on the back in a half-hug. "Hayden, good to see you again. This your mom?"

I wrapped an arm around Mom's shoulders. "Bast, this is my mom, Kaye McCaffrey. Mom, this is Sebastian Badd, and this is his home."

"Sebastian," Mom said, offering her hand. "Thank you so much for having us. Did you invite half the city?"

Bast threw back his head and laughed. "First, call me Bast, B-A-S-T, been my nickname my whole life. And believe it or not, this is just my immediate family—brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews, cousins, and whatever a cousin’s wife or husband would be. Cousin-in-law? I don't know. It's all family. And we're glad to have you."

Mom shook her head. "This all just family?”

Bast nodded. "Yup. I'm the oldest of eight brothers, and we have three cousins, identical triplets. Their father, my uncle, married a woman with five daughters who all got married and we brought their husbands into the fold. And we're all one big, wild, crazy family."

Mom just shook her head again with a disbelieving laugh. "My husband and I are both only children, and my son is our only child."

Bast hesitated. "I, um…I heard about why you and Hayden are doing a Christmas cruise. So sorry to hear of your husband's passing."

Mom's smile dimmed for a moment, and then she rallied. "Thank you very much. It was unexpected and painful, to be sure. We're adjusting." She looked around, her smile regaining its brilliance. "My husband would have loved a party like this. You all seem so close."

Bast grinned and threw out an arm, gesturing at the party at large. "We are, very much so. Most of us live in the area, and even those who don't live here full time are here whenever life allows." He lifted the box he had tucked under one arm and opened the lid; inside were dozens of cell phones. "We only have two rules at our parties. One, if you're drinking, your keys go in that box over there by the front door. Two, no cell phones—they go in here. We always take a few group shots at some point before the kids are asleep and the adults are sloppy. So, if you don't mind, toss it in."

There was another identical box by the front door, the lid propped open; as Bast mentioned it, Brock tossed the keys to the airplane into the box and then came back this way and tossed his phone in as well.

Mom and I put our phones with the rest, and then Mom touched Bast's huge arm. "May I please be introduced to the lady of the home?" She lifted the gift bag. "I have something for her."

Bast hooked a burly arm around her shoulders. "Right this way—she's fixing the stew." He glanced at me over his shoulder. "She's downstairs."

I watched Mom for a minute as she met Dru, who hugged her, exclaiming over the gift and pulling her into the circle of women huddled together on that side of the island. Within seconds, she had a glass of wine in hand and was laughing.

I wasn’t worried about her—the initial reaction was merely shock. She was the most outgoing and social person I'd ever met, and I had no doubt she'd be fast friends with everyone by the end of the evening.

I made my way downstairs. Pentatonix sang “Hallelujah” in the background, mostly drowned out by the chaos down here. This was clearly the younger adult space. The pool table had been turned into a beer pong table, where a dozen or so cousins were playing. Others played darts and foosball, and more yet sat on couches talking over each other.

Emerson was at the beer pong table, and the moment I saw her, my heart lifted. She was wearing skin-tight black jeans with low, wedge-heeled black boots and a green sweater adorned with a festoon of flashing, multi-colored twinkle lights; two lights larger than the rest were strategically and suggestively placed over her boobs, pointing straight outward. Her hair was loose and down, teased into a wild profusion of tight ringlets. She had a red Solo cup in her hand and her other arm was around Delia's waist as the bartender from Kitty's prepared to take her shot.

"JAMES BOND!" Someone shouted. "You're back!"

I lifted the suit at the shouter—Duncan. "I am back, and I have your suit."

Duncan snagged a solo cup from a stack, pulled a beer, and wove through the crowd toward me. "It looks like that suit has been dry-cleaned," he remarked.

"That's because it has," I said. "Thanks again, Duncan. I appreciate you lending it to me."

Duncan took the suit by the metal hook of the hangar. "Glad to be of service. You didn't have to dry-clean the damn thing, though."

I shrugged. "I was raised to do the right thing. And in my house, we always returned an item we borrowed in better shape than we received it."

“Well, it’s appreciated.” He shoved the cup of beer into my hand. "Come play beer pong with us. Girls against boys, and we boys are getting our asses handed to us."

Em sunk her shot after Delia missed hers, and then Em's eyes found me. She whispered something to Delia and headed over to me.

Delia's eyes widened and she hurriedly took her shot for missing and then scurried after Em.

"Hey, you," Emerson said, not stopping as she reached me, instead closing in for a hug. Her arms slid around my neck and her hands buried in the hair at my nape.

I let my arms wrap around her waist, her hair tickling my nose, smelling of lavender. "Hi."

She pulled her face away from my chest and looked up at me from inches away, eyes searching mine. Her gaze spoke of our secret, shining with amusement and joy and arousal. "You look handsome." She plucked at my sleeve. "I love the ugly sweater."

I had on dark-wash blue jeans and a red sweater which was adorned with an embroidered 8-bit scene across the front: reindeer, a sleigh, and Santa flying above a rooftop and chimney. It was gloriously garish and had won me more than one ugly sweater competition.

I wanted to kiss her so bad it hurt, and it took all my willpower not to. "You look amazing, Em."

She stepped back and cupped her boobs. "Like my headlights?"

I laughed. "I love 'em. I'll be trying not to stare at them all night."

She leaned in against me, lips to my ear. "Or…don't try. Go ahead and stare all you want—you have my permission."

I groaned. "You want me to have a semi all night?"

"Maybe I do," she said. "You should be glad this a kid-friendly party, or I'd be wearing my special reindeer sweater."

I frowned. "Your special reindeer sweater?"

She laughed. "I cut a hole on one side and my bare boob hangs out, and I put a reindeer pasty with a flashing light over my nipple. It's hot. Delia and I have matching ones—my right boob is out, and her left."

"I'll need pictures," I said. "Of you, at least."

She laughed again. "I'll send it to you later; my phone is in the box." She tangled my fingers in hers. "Come on, you can help the boys lose at beer pong."

And so I found myself across the table from her, surrounded by her male cousins—I did not attempt to remember all the names, although I caught a few: Lennox, Riley, Dillon, Kieran, and Dakota. I couldn't say which name went with which face, however.

Dunc, as everyone seemed to call him, was beside me, keeping up a running monologue about the various cousins, imparting tidbits of information and wild stories that were increasingly unbelievable.

I only half-listened, and he didn't seem to care—I was more focused on Emerson. Watching her move was a turn-on. She was graceful, easy and comfortable in her body and comfortable with everyone around her. She and Delia were attached at the hip, always leaning in to whisper something to the other, which inevitably had them cracking up.

The game of beer pong seemed pretty loose as far as rules and points went, rather than a serious competition.

After a while, Emerson whispered something to Delia and then left her place opposite me at the table, taking me by the hand.

"You have to introduce me to your mom," she said.

"Sounds good." I followed her up the stairs. "Who won beer pong, by the way? I couldn’t tell."

She gave a broad, hands-flapping shrug. "Who the hell knows? We just play to play. I'm not sure we've ever actually kept score."

"I thought you were a competitive athlete? I figured you'd be playing to win."

She just cackled. "We learned a long time ago to set our competitive natures aside. We're all like that, so if we start actually competing, shit gets really wild."

"Oh, I suppose that makes sense."

"We save that for the annual boys versus girls softball tournament. Now that gets fiercely competitive."

"With all the monster dudes in your family, I wouldn't think that would be very fair."

She snorted. "You'd think, and yeah, the bigger uncles always blast a few clear out of the park, but pretty much all the women, especially us older cousins, played softball in school, so we have some killer fast-pitchers. The big scary men turn into babies when Anya launches a seventy-mile-per-hour rocket at them. Sort of evens the field a bit."

"I suppose it would."

We reached the kitchen and found Mom firmly ensconced within a circle of women, leaning against a counter, nibbling from a plate and sipping wine while deep in a conversation with an older woman about her age, maybe a few years younger.

"Oh, she found Mama Livvie—awesome," Emerson said, dragging me over to the group.

Emerson and I reached the circle of women, and they all stopped their conversations as we approached.

"Hayden, these are my aunts and Mama Livvie." She pointed to each woman in turn as she named them. "Eva, Joss, Kitty, Charlie, Lexie, Mara, and Tate. That's Mama Livvie your mom is talking to, obviously. Aunties, this is Hayden."

I reached for an outstretched hand to shake it and found myself pulled into a warm, maternal hug by a beautiful woman with brown skin, dreadlocks, and a killer smile. The next woman in line hugged me, too, and so it went, landing me with Olivia Goode last, also known as Mama Livvie, the matriarch of the Badd-Goode Clan.

It turned out that Charlie and Lexie were two of her daughters.

It was my turn. "Mom, this is Emerson. Emerson, this is my mom, Kaye McCaffrey."

Mom embraced Emerson as warmly and effusively as the women had me. "Call me Kaye, my dear. Wonderful to meet you—my Hayden has had amazing things to say about you."

"And he about you," Emerson said, returning the hug with an equal amount of enthusiasm.

"So, Hayden." Mama Livvie focused her attention on me, and so did everyone else's. "Your mother tells me you're a computer scientist."

I laughed. "Almost. I'm a cybersecurity analyst."

Mom flapped her hand, waving a cracker-and-cheese sandwich. "I can never remember. I don't know even what he does, really, just that it involves a lot of sitting in front of a computer."

The front door opened, then.

"XAVIER! LOW!" Someone shouted. "ABOUT FUCKIN' TIME!"

Mom flinched at the curse word, and I laughed, leaning close to her. "You want to say ‘language’ so bad, don't you?"

She covered her mouth as she laughed. "You have no idea. I think I’ve heard the F-word more tonight than ever before in my life combined." She waved her hand. "But you were absolutely right. This is the warmest, kindest, most welcoming group of people I've ever met in my life." She stage-whispered to me. "If a little rough around the edges."

Mama Livvie overheard and burst into laughter. When she recovered, she leaned back and yelled, "Lucas!"

"WHAT?" A booming male voice shouted from across the room.

"Did you know you're a little rough around the edges, my love?”

Heavy footsteps came this way, and an absolute bear of a man appeared, roughly six feet tall and massively heavy with muscle as well as a little bit of padding; he was older, with blond hair and a goatee, both gone mostly gray. Tattoos covered his biceps and forearms.

"Me?" he boomed. "Rough around the edges? I resemble that remark."

Mom's mouth flapped open and closed a few times. "I…I…"

Lucas guffawed, gently patting her shoulder; even gently, she almost collapsed under the weight of his hand. "Darlin', I'm so rough around the edges you could use me as a pumice stone." Another even larger human lumbered past, and Lucas snagged his colossal arm. 'What about you, Ink, m'boy? You rough around the edges?"

The man was…there aren't words for how huge he was. About seven feet tall and nearly as broad, he had jet-black hair with a touch of gray at the temples and traditional native-style tattoos all over his visible skin.

"More rough edges than smooth, Uncle Luke," the giant said in a voice that came from the bottom of a well.

Mom, barely over five feet tall, boggled at the gargantuan man. "Good grief, what did they feed you?"

The man just laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that spoke of a lifetime of easy laughter. "Giant pills, I was told." he extended a hand that could have engulfed Mom's entire head. "Ink Isaac, ma'am."

"Kaye McCaffrey. Call me Kaye, please."

Ink glanced at me. "You must be Hayden. Rumor mill is buzzing about you."

I frowned. "Rumor mill?"

He just shrugged. “Our girl Sunni has never brought anyone to one of these. Must make you somethin' special."

"Sunni?" Mom asked. "Who's Sunni?"

Emerson raised her hand. "Me. It's my nickname. My last name is Day, so Delia has always called me Sunni…as in Sunni Day.”

Mom chuckled. "Oh, well, that's just adorable. Can I call you that?"

Emerson rested her head sideways on Mom's shoulder as if they were age-old besties. "I'd love it if you did."

Something about seeing Mom and Emerson so cozy made my heart do funny things.

That's when a strong pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me backward, and then I was airborne, held aloft six feet in the air by multiple people.

I found Emerson, looking for help, but she just covered her mouth to hide her laugh.

"Just go with it, Hayden. It's a rite of passage around here," She said. She reached for me. "Give me your wallet."

I fished it out and tossed it to her. "What's happening?

"You're going for a swim." I found the speaker—Bax.

"A swim? In the Passage? In December?" My voice went higher with each word until I was almost squeaking by the end.

"Someone gets tossed in every year," he answered as the many hands carried me outside and across the deck. "This year it's you, since you're new."

"I'm not new, I’m temporary," I argued.

He just laughed. "Horseshit, son. The Badd Clan Love Charm has claimed you and Emmy. Y'all can fight it all you want, kid—all of us did. Won’t do a lick of good.”

"You can swim, yeah?" This was Bast.

"Yeah, but—"

"Then just fuckin' relax, bro,” someone else said—a familiar voice.

I twisted around looking for the speaker—Myles North, country music superstar and an absolute legend.

Feet clomped on wood, and water chucked against pylons. Snow swirled—small, sharp shards of ice tossed by the restless wind.

Hands shifted grip on me, from merely supporting my shoulders, hips, and legs to gripping wrists and ankles. My stomach lurched upward as they swung me down and began rocking me back and forth like medieval besiegers with a battering ram.

"On three, boys," Bax said. "One…two… three !”

In case you were wondering, four mammoth and powerful men can throw a fully-grown human male a very long distance. I was airborne for what felt like a full minute—it was a fraction of that, obviously, but it felt like much longer.

My arms and legs windmilled and icy air stung my eyes and snowflakes bit into my cheeks, and then water so frigid it shocked the air out of my lungs smashed through me like a sledgehammer through plate glass. I gasped a lungful of air at the last second, right before the water swallowed me. I was surrounded by pitch blackness, the harsh currents of the inside Passage pulling at me, my clothes water-logged and heavy. I kicked upward as hard as I could and pulled at the water with my arms, surfacing with a spluttering gasp.

Something smacked into the water near my face.

"Grab the ring!" A voice shouted—Bast, I thought.

I reached out and grabbed blindly—a life preserver attached to a rope. I clung to it and frog-kicked as the men on the dock hauled me toward them. I blinked away water and spluttered and gasped, teeth chattering a mile a minute, every muscle quivering and quaking.

And then hard strong hands were lifting me with laughable ease.

“F-f-f-f-fuck—m-m-m-me,” I chattered. “C-c-c-cold.”

"Strip, kid." This was Myles again.

I didn't hesitate or question—I needed my icy, soaking wet clothes off ASAP, so I struggled out of my wet jeans, sweater, and everything else until I was stark naked under the Alaskan winter sky. Someone wrapped a hot blanket around me, and hands guided me along the dock away from the water. I was dazed, disoriented, shivering, and chattering, and I allowed myself to be moved.

We didn't go back up to the house. Instead, we angled perpendicular to the house, around the side of the hill the house perched on. The hillside cut away dramatically, held in place by a thick timber retaining wall that funneled inward to a stout wooden door with a small window through which infrared light bloomed.

Around me, clothes rustled. I looked around to see the other men peeling out of their clothes and tossing them into a waiting wicker basket.

And then Bast, naked, yanked open the door and hustled me through.

A wall of heat slammed into me. A sauna?

"Fuck, it's cold," someone muttered as he entered.

"N-n-no sh-sh-shit, Sh-Sh-Sherl-l-lock," I stammered. "Try being w-w-wet."

The speaker laughed. "I got dunked last year." I found him—someone I hadn't been introduced to yet.

He was one of Emerson's Badd uncles; he had the look, being around six feet and built like a brick shithouse, with brown hair and brown eyes and the same nose and mouth as the other Badd men I’d met. He had a tattoo that I recognized as the Navy SEAL logo on his bicep, and his bare, muscular torso bore a myriad of scars.

He indicated the benches running the perimeter of the room in a U-shape, one low, one high. "Have a seat, kid."

I shuffled to the nearest section of the bench and sat down, letting the blanket pool around my lap. The other men, nine of them, all had white towels around their waists.

Bast, his many colorful tattoos made otherworldly by the infrared light, sat beside me. "You met everyone here?"

I shook my head. "No." I scanned the faces. "Bax, Brock, and you. The rest I haven't been introduced to."

Bast gestured as he named them. "Myles North you probably recognize, he's made some music. Next to him is Crow, Myles’s best friend and brother-in-law. Over there is my brother Zane. And then you've got the Terrible Triplets, my cousins, Rome, Rem, and Ram."

Myles, obviously, I did recognize—he's been in commercials, he's won six Grammies, several CMAs, an Emmy for best original soundtrack, and has dabbled in acting. Everyone knows who Myles North is and what he looks like.

Crow was Native American, with long black hair plaited behind his head and sharp, angular features. His eyes were black, glittering with intelligence and wisdom, giving nothing away as to what he was thinking or feeling. He lifted his chin at me as I met his gaze.

The SEAL was Zane, making my original assessment correct. The triplets had similar Badd features, but with blond hair instead of brown, and were every bit as massive, muscular, and intimidating.

I scanned the room again. "So. I'm assuming this is where you guys tell me that if I hurt Emerson, you'll hurt me?"

Zane laughed. "Don't have to. I figure unless you're dumber than a bag of hammers, that's pretty well understood."

"And you don't seem dumb to me," Myles said.

"I…" I trailed off with a sigh and decided on honesty. "I don’t know what's gonna happen with Em. All I know is I really like her a whole fucking lot. She's cool, smart, funny, and a hell of an athlete."

"And it probably doesn't hurt that my niece ain't exactly hard on the eyes," one of the triplets said.

"She ain't your niece, dumbshit," Another triplet said.

"Oh? Then what is she, Mr. Expert on Family Relations or whatever the fuck?"

The second triplet—Rem?—flipped his brother off. "First cousin once removed, ya fat, brainless cock-waffle."

The first triplet returned the bird and then slapped his midsection—hard, flat, not quite a six-pack anymore but with visible definition. "Fat, my hairy ass. You're fat."

“Oh, real clever comeback, dick-knob."

"Fuck you, assclown."

I'd lost track of who was speaking at this point.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you," the third triplet cut in. "Fifty fuckin' years old and still bickering like goddamn toddlers.”

"Fuck you, Ram," the other two said in perfect unison.

I spluttered a laugh and covered my mouth with my fist when they glanced at me. “Sorry, sorry."

"Serious question," Bast said, cutting through the humor despite the calm quiet of his voice. "How much has Sunni told you about herself?"

I shrugged. "A bit. I know you and Dru unofficially adopted her. She told me she didn't come from anything good. That's about it."

He nodded. "Well, her story is hers to tell, not mine. What I will say is that Emerson is my daughter in every way there is but legal. I'd take a bullet for her, and I'd put a man in the ground for her, same as I would my kids or any of my nieces and nephews."

I nodded. "I believe it. She's lucky as hell to have a family like you all."

Zane spoke up. "What my brother isn't saying is that I can and have put men in the ground. A lot of 'em." He tapped his arm, the tattoo. "Saw you notice this. You know what it means, yeah?"

“I do.” I nodded. "I care about her. I don’t know what the future holds, so the only promise I can make is that I won't play with her feelings."

Crow spoke up, then. "She's got a tender heart under all that fire. She keeps it hidden. Even we who know her and love her don't always see how deep her feelings go."

I used the corner of the blanket to wipe sweat off my upper lip. "I've gotten glimpses of that."

"None of our kids have ever had a serious relationship," Bast said. "She’d be the first, which is weird. Our kids have all brought dates around, but it's never been anything serious. For Emmy to bring you to a full family holiday party is a real shock.”

"And you're worried about her," I said, filling in the unspoken. "I respect that. She's told me about the Badd Family Love Charm, or at least of it. All I can promise you is that I am not playing with her. I've been in two relationships in my life, and I'm the farthest thing from a player you'll ever meet."

Brock spoke for the first time. "She likes you, Hayden. I've watched her with you. She may not be aware of it, or at least isn't admitting it to herself yet, but she has feelings for you. Don't fuck around with that. If you aren't there, be real about it, okay? No one here is threatening you. For one thing, that girl wouldn't need help fucking up your life if you hurt her."

I laughed. "No shit. If nothing else, she and Delia would go Thelma and Louise on my ass."

"Got that right," all three triplets said together.

"Look, guys. You think I'd bring my mother here if I was just looking for a…for something casual? I know you don't know me, but I do not and have not ever done casual."

"Emerson's dating history is…” Zane started.

"Her place to tell me," I interrupted. "And she has, sort of. I know she's not done relationships before. I know enough of psychology to know there's probably a reason for that, but I think we all respect her privacy enough to let her be the one to get into that."

"I think we've gotten the measure of the man," Crow said. "He's got good answers."

"I only have one question," I said. "What am I supposed to wear now?"