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“I heard you.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“I know.”
The chemistry between us remained too easy. Every joke found its old landing place, every glance carried the memory of last night, and Charm made no attempt to hide how pleased she was when I touched her. This was what I had come looking for—the version of us that didn’t require locked doors or carefully constructed excuses.
I wanted enough of it to replace the memories that still hurt. If Charm believed those same moments could change my mind, I could let her try. We were pursuing different endings through the same weekend.
Instead, I sat beside Charm while she drank from my flask and fought the urge to slide my hand beneath the table and test whether her shorts covered any part of her ass when she sat down.
Wanting her had never been complicated.
Trusting what came after remained the risk.
Bliss lifted the first folder. “Cade and I are the captains of the family team. We have the Bennetts, the Mercers, and immediate family joining us throughout the day.”
“You gave yourself eight brothers?” Easton asked.
“Five, Lance makes six Bennetts,” Bliss corrected.
“That answer didn’t improve the situation.”
“The Mercer side balances it.”
I looked toward Harrison and the collection of middle-aged relatives reading the rules with the serious attention of people accustomed to contracts and quarterly reports.
“Balances it how?” I asked. “You have six Bennetts who’ll cheat without remorse and a group of rich businessmen who probably outsource walking across lawns.”
Harrison lowered his itinerary. “I can hear you.”
“I assumed your assistant handled that.”
Cade covered his mouth with one hand, but the movement failed to hide his laugh.
One of the Mercer uncles pointed toward me. “I ran the New York Marathon last year.”
“You paid someone to close the streets first.”
“That’s generally how marathons work,” Charm whispered.
“I’m establishing dominance.”
“With the grandparents?”
“I was given professional hockey players, middle-aged businessmen, and Briggs. This isn’t team leadership. It’s wrangling toddlers with credit scores and grandparents with attorneys.”
“I’m thirty-nine,” one of Cade’s cousins called from the family table.
“Then you can choose whichever category feels kinder.”
Harrison removed his glasses. “Ryan, I’m beginning to understand why Milwaukee limits your interviews.”
“The Inferno values mystery.”
“The Inferno fears litigation,” Cade said.
Charm laughed beside me, lowering her head as she tried to conceal it behind the clipboard.
