“Fair enough.” His stepfather carried on walking. “So, tell me about your woman.”
CHARLOTTE HAD GUESSED GABRIEL’S family must have really good seats, given how important rugby was to the family, but she never expected to go through the main gates and up to the exclusive top level of the stadium complex.
“You have access to a corporate box?” she whispered to Gabriel, her eyes wide. She knew Saxon & Archer didn’t have one of the elite rooms, so it had to come via one of Gabriel’s other investments.
Keeping her tucked close to his side, he said, “Bishop Enterprises owns the lease.”
Her mouth fell open at the name under which his property empire was nested. Tipping her parted lips shut with a finger under her jaw, he leaned down to whisper, “Filthy rich, remember?” His lips brushed her ear. “Emphasis on the filthy when it comes to you, Ms. Baird.”
Arousal hitting her in a hard slap, she was barely aware of walking into the box. However its spectacular view of the flawless green of the pitch had her sucking in a breath. The stadium lights bathed that green in a bright white light that made everything crisp and sharp. There were seats inside, but the tiered game seating was directly in front—on what looked to be a private balcony.
Already, the girls were outside on that balcony, standing on tiptoe to look over the rail at the bottom. Gabriel’s brothers, meanwhile, were at the small bar to one side of the box itself, popping the tops off beer cans they’d taken from a well-stocked fridge. Fancy but delicious-looking canapés—crumbed prawns with sauce, for one—sat within easy reach, and there was a steward who seemed to be taking orders for other drinks.
He’d also managed to produce small bags of potato chips for the girls.
“Next thing you know, they’ll be bringing up gourmet meals,” Charlotte whispered to Gabriel, who’d leaned down to her.
His smile creased his cheeks. “Those have been ordered.” Rubbing his hand over her lower back, he said, “You good? I’m going to grab a beer.”
“Yes, I want to go look outside.” Joining the girls, she just soaked in the view as the stadium began to fill, an excited buzz in the air.
“Charlotte.” Joseph patted the seat next to him in the front row. “Come talk to me.”
It was odd; her father had been physically slight, had worn glasses like Charlotte. Gabriel’s stepfather was an ex-rugby player with twenty-twenty eyesight, a full-sleeve tattoo that she could see now he’d taken off his coat, and had a voice like a bullhorn. Yet she felt the same sense of comfort with him that she had with her father. Before she knew it, she had her coat off too and they were debating the finer points of last weekend’s game.
SAILOR TOOK A SIP of his beer, his blue eyes gleaming. “She’s a bit bite-sized for you, isn’t she, bro?”
Gabriel imagined taking little bites of Charlotte and felt his lips curve. “Good things. Small packages,” he said, enjoying watching her mobile face, her bright, intelligent eyes as she spoke to his father.
Leaning back against the bar, Sailor followed Gabriel’s gaze. “You think I should tell her she’s the first woman you’ve ever brought to a game with us?”
“Sure. If you want a black eye.” Charlotte wasn’t yet ready for the pressure the knowledge would put on her.
“Ísalind won’t let you hurt me.” Sailor blew a kiss to his wife.
Dimpling, Ísa blew one back before returning to her conversation with their mom.
“Anyway, you sure you won’t break her?” Sailor asked, a dubious look on his face. “Remember that magazine called you a sexy brute.”
“Keep it up and I’ll break you.” He knew damn well Sailor was needling him in revenge for all the teasing he’d endured after falling so hard for his English-teacher wife that he’d actually read poetry for chrissakes. As if his siblings weren’t going to rag on him when that came out.
“Daddy!” Esme tugged on Jake’s hand. “My shoelace is all messy.”
Putting his beer on the bar, Jake bent down to fix the knotted-up lace after tapping his daughter playfully on the cheek. Jake had become a father at eighteen and it had fundamentally changed him. Gone was the boy who’d spent all his money on parts for his souped-up car, and in his place was a stable single dad whose daughter adored him.
“You talk to Danny?” Gabriel asked Sailor, at once proud of Jake and worried about him—the kid had become too serious at too young an age.
“This afternoon,” Sailor said, his eyes connecting with Gabriel’s in a silent understanding about Jake. “He’s pumped.”