Connell (Carolina Reapers 3)

Annabelle’s eyes flickered in surprise, and then her shoulders fell. “I kept you from your mother.”

“No,” I assured her. “I kept me from my mother. Besides, she remarried when I was nineteen, and Callum already had three kids, so trust me, she’s not lonely.”

She nodded, but there was still something a bit more reserved about her.

“Savannah, are you judging the Miss Sweet Water contest again this year?” Milly asked from down the table, which gave me the opportunity to eat.

“I think so,” Savannah answered. “It’s better than letting Mr. Oliver pretend he’s judging while really he’s just staring at those girls in their swimwear. That man has got to retire.”

“Our Savannah was Miss Sweet Water three years in a row!” Tara exclaimed. “Of course, you can’t compete once you’re twenty-one, so then she started judging.”

My brow puckered in confusion. The town had an official Miss?

“It’s a beauty pageant,” Annabelle explained between bites. “Girls answer questions, dress up, show off a talent. It’s a competition.”

“Not that you’d know anything about that, would you, Belly-Boo?” A guy teased from the second table in the dining room.

Annabelle turned to stone, and I twisted in my seat to see who had hurt her feelings, but her hand gripped my thigh, stopping me cold.

“Don’t call her that, Uncle Holt. You know she doesn’t like it,” Savannah snapped, then sighed as she turned back to face Annabelle. “Besides, Belle was busy at college, remember? Acing all her classes from what I remember.”

“Figures you’d have straight A’s,” I teased.

“And a color-coded planner,” she quipped, but her smile was fake. I fucking hated it. Annabelle was beautiful no matter what, but she was exquisite when she let her real emotions show—both happiness and anger.

“Our Annabelle was always the smartest in her class!” Tara boasted with pride.

“I’m sure she was.” I laced my fingers over hers on my thigh and ate with my left hand as dinner fell into a rhythm of questions. I received my fair share about hockey, and the others on my team—mostly from Cash, Annabelle’s nephew, but I was relieved that the conversation didn’t revolve around me.

They all checked in on one another. How was Savannah’s real estate business doing? How was the veterinary clinic where Jackson worked? Were the kids excited to get back to school? It was all so...normal.

Eventually, Annabelle relaxed next to me, and even when she took her hand off my thigh, she shifted in her seat so her knee brushed mine. She was just as active in the questions, asking how her dad’s fields were doing on their hobby farm and if her mother was going to help train any of the pageant girls this year.

We finished up, and I was promptly kicked out of the kitchen when I tried to help with the dishes, so I joined in with the small army who tore down the extra tables and put them away.

I showed Cash and Taylor a few magic tricks to keep them busy and earned more than a few giggles for my effort.

“No one at school is going to believe that we had dinner with you,” Cash lamented in the way only thirteen-year-old boys can.

“Well, how about I get ye some tickets to a game this season?”

“Really?” His eyes grew wide as saucers.

“Absolutely. I’ll make sure to let your Aunt Annabelle know when.”

Cupcakes in hand, the kids took off with their father, and the rest soon filed out, until only Savannah and Annabelle’s parents remained in the house.

“It was so nice to meet you, Connell,” Savannah acknowledge with a nod and then moved in to hug her sister where we stood in the kitchen. “You owe me details,” she whispered.

I almost grinned but stuffed the rest of my cupcake in my mouth to hide it.

Savannah waved and walked out.

Annabelle watched me carefully, and I swallowed the last bit of the lemon and raspberry deliciousness.

“You survived,” Davis said with a slap to my back.

“Aye,” I agreed as Annabelle peeled the wrapper from her cupcake as it sat on the counter.

“Brave of you to take us all on at once. And yes, I know you two are...what was it, dear?” Davis asked, his silver brows nearly meeting as his forehead crinkled.

“Just friends,” Tara answered, sliding a bowl of grapes in front of Annabelle and nudging her cupcake down the counter. “Isn’t that what you said, Belle?”

What the fuck just happened?

“Yep! Just friends.” She smiled at her mother, then her father, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the counter.

“At least for the next week,” I teased. Her eyes flew to mine with a shake of her head, but she stopped strangling the counter.

“Oh. Okay, then,” her mother drawled slowly, looking between us. “Davis, why don’t we get out of here and leave these two to...whatever they have planned for the night.”