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plates from the cupboard. “Honestly, I thought they’d be scouted by now.”

“It’ll happen.” Kaylee sounds confident. The nervous way she blinks behind those big glasses betrays her voice though.

“No scout talk! They need to focus on the tournament,” Etta scolds with a harsh whisper.

“You’re right.” Kaylee gets a bunch of soda bottles and some juices out of the fridge. Beer is notably missing. I wonder if they hadn’t invited me over for dinner if that would still be the case.

“Well, you’re giving them a good shot at it with this meal.” Hattie breathes in the intoxicating scent of holiday happiness, even without any of the festivities.

“It looks amazing.” I nod.

I’ve never seen so much food before. Not on our kitchen table. This is the kind of meal that is in every classic Christmas movie. It’s got all the fixin’s you’d expect to see the dog trying to steal off the table in a Norman Rockwell painting.

Growing up, meals like this weren’t served on our table. Christmas dinners were served from microwave dinner food trays. Not that I’m complaining. Mom still did a great job making Christmas magic in other ways. However, it never made sense for us to spend an entire day cooking up army portions of food only to be stuck with a month’s worth of leftovers in our fridge. I’ve always liked our simple Swanson suppers.

Etta reminds me of a magician pulling more things out of a black top hat. How did she ever get that all to fit in there? She fills the counters up with dishes. Whipped potatoes fold over in soft peaks. Little bits of cooked bacon tempt us from the top of the brussels sprouts. There’s even corn on the cob. TV dinners did fail me in one way: they were never nearly this good.

“Are we all set here?” Kaylee looks over at her best friend.

Etta seems to take stock of everything before she answers. “Yup. I think we can get started.”

“Time to eat!” Kaylee yells out in a voice that seems too big for her. Like all this food that was hiding in the oven, it’s weird when something so huge comes out of something so tiny.

The guys all trample into the kitchen, pushing at each other to get through the door first. Griz pretty much dive-bombs the island and grabs the first plate. He doesn’t wait for instructions or permission, he just digs in, piling it high.

“Don’t be such a pig.” Etta gives her brother a swat with the oven mitt she used to pull the food out. Her brother is easily one of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen. It’s like watching someone hit a tank with a fly swatter. It doesn’t slow him down in the slightest. He doesn’t even acknowledge that he felt it.

“Seriously, Griz. Your sister worked her ass off making this. Slow your roll.” Hattie raises her eyebrows.

That does it. The human tank gears down to normal pace.

“We’ve got plenty, so don’t go crazy. There’s also some salads over on that counter.” Kaylee points.

Player looks personally offended. “Salads? Come on. I’m not wasting my time on leaves.” He follows Griz around to the heartier selections, stacking his plate up.

“No one wants to hear your salad-rant.” Kaylee shakes her head at him. “It’s crazy, but some people actually enjoy salad. It’s possible to like more foods than just M&M’s.”

“I like way more food than just M&M’s. Pretty much anything,” Player heaps a generous serving of potatoes on his plate. “Just not salad.”

“Congratulations. Your palette is more sophisticated than a toddler’s. Now, how about saving some for the rest of us?” Canuck wedges in front of Player, cutting him off before he can dig into the turkey.

Blaze stands next to me, and I tingle all over. It’s like he vibrates on a frequency that only my body is tuned into. Although I’m sure he’s had the same effect on tons of bunnies, everyone else in this room seems to be immune. My eyes skim each face, searching for signs that they suspect something between us. No one notices. No one cares. The focus is exactly where it should be: on Etta’s meal.

“If you don’t jump in, you’re gonna go hungry.” Blaze hands me a plate off the stack.

“Thanks.” I take it from him.

He motions for me to get in front of him. I serpentine around the kitchen island, filling my plate with each dish. Every time I stop to grab some food, that same energy radiates off of him. Does he feel that, or is it all in my head?

Eventually, all our plates get filled up, and we sit around the sprawling table in the dining room.

“Hopefully this goes better than our last party.” Canuck smiles, but no one else does.

“When was that?” I find an open seat at the table. Blaze doesn’t sit near me. It’s weird to pretty much ignore him. I have to fight my instinct to smile or even look at him.

“Blaze’s birthday,” Player answers.

Kaylee sits next to him at the huge farm table. “It doesn’t matter now.” She says it like a reminder.

“You wanna talk about bad birthdays?” Griz slides in next to Hattie.

Once Gucci and Etta get seated, everyone is around the table.

“I think the idea is to stop talking about bad birthdays,” Gucci answers.

“Remember the birthday you got me in shit, Etta?” Griz keeps going.

“You got yourself in shit,” she answers.

“I got sent to my room at my own party. You guys ate my birthday cake without me,” Griz complains.

“Sounds like your birthday, Blaze. We all ate your cake without you too.” Canuck seems completely oblivious to the looks he’s getting.

I don’t know what happened before Blaze showed up at the bar that night, but it sounds like I missed some serious drama.

“You got sent to your room because you couldn’t handle losing musical chairs to me.” Etta points her fork at Griz.

“So I deserved to miss my birthday?” He doesn’t exactly sound over this.

“You pulled the last chair out from under

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