epitome of every tough old biker ever.
And Seth wanted her to meet these people?
“We don’t have to,” he said into the silence. “They can be overwhelming—trust me, I know.”
It was tempting to say that they wouldn’t have time for a side trip. Or to say she wasn’t dressed for standing in a wet field. Or that she wasn’t feeling up to it. All of those would be perfectly fine excuses to save her from meeting the Boltons en masse. Because meeting the whole family—that felt huge. Far too big for a casual relationship like the one she and Seth had.
But family was forever. Or, for a long time—until they disowned you, anyway. And she’d feel terrible if she caused any sort of trouble for him with his extended family just because she might be a little intimidated by a group of bikers. He was willing to go above and beyond for his family, and she couldn’t fault him for that. If anything, she admired him all the more.
So despite her misgivings, she put on a smile and said, “We can do that. But we better get going if we want to have time.”
* * *
When Seth opened her car door for her, she was past panic and straight over into stark terror. “You’re not introducing me as your girlfriend,” she told him, staring at his hand. “That’s not what this is, right?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, and she suddenly didn’t know how he’d answer that question.
Worse, she didn’t know how she wanted him to answer that question.
“Right,” he finally said, slow and serious. “You’re my real estate agent.”
Oh, this was a mistake. An epic, huge, grandiose mistake.
But she was going to make it anyway.
After he helped her from the car, they began the long trek to the playing field. Apparently showing up late meant that they got the worst parking spot. Although she’d worn boots to walk around the potential museum sites, she still had to hold her skirt by the hem to keep it from getting wet in the tall grass.
Which was fine because if she was holding her skirt, then she wasn’t accidentally holding Seth’s hand.
When they reached the playing field, Kate looked around. “Is that them?”
Most of the parents on the sidelines were regular-looking people sitting on folding chairs with coolers. But at the end of the field, there was a group of big, burly men around a cluster of pickup trucks with the tailgates down. The trucks were massive and even at this distance, she could tell they were top-of-the-line.
And the Boltons were loud. Kate could hear them bellowing words of encouragement to the players on the field.
“That’s them. Don’t be intimidated. They’re a lot nicer than they look. All bark, no bite—that sort of thing.”
She shot him a look.
They paused at midfield, and Seth turned her toward the game. “We’re rooting for the green team, the Mustangs. The forward? That’s Julie. The right guard’s Eliza and the left is Clara—my cousins. They’re unbeatable.” He said it with obvious pride when any other man his age might have been embarrassed or at least put out to have to give up part of his Saturday on a regular basis to watch little girls kick a ball around. But not him. He really did love his family.
The thought made Kate unexpectedly sad. She hadn’t played soccer when she was young—but she’d had dance recitals and choir concerts, and had even acted in a few plays in high school. Her mom had come—but not her dad.
As they watched, Eliza passed the ball to Clara, who faked out a player on the other team and then kicked the ball to Julie, who bounced it off her chest and then kicked it in just past the goalie. The green team erupted into cheers—as did the parents on the sidelines. Especially the group of Boltons at the end of the field. Seth let out a tremendous whoop and the girls on the field pivoted as one and waved at him before their coach bellowed something and they all trotted off down the field.
“They seem pretty good,” Kate said as they began to make their way toward his family—and her doom.
No, no—not her doom. Just a really awkward meeting with her not-boyfriend’s parents. No need to panic.
“The Mustangs came in second in the championship last year. I think they’re going to win it this year. Julie’s unstoppable and Eliza is a monster on the field.”
Kate kept an eye on the game. Julie and Eliza looked a great deal like each other but Clara? Kate had a feeling that if they all stood still next to each other, she’d be able to see the resemblance, but Clara was much lighter in coloring than the other two.
And then it was too late to turn back because the biggest of the three men stood up from the tailgate and bellowed, “Seth! About damn time. Where the hell have you been?”
Kate recognized him. It was Billy Bolton, the biggest and meanest-looking of the brothers. He was older than he’d been in the reality show, his grizzled beard shot with silver—but he was still a force to be reckoned with.
Then Billy’s gaze landed on Kate and she froze like a deer in the headlights.
One of the women—petite and brown and who looked a great deal like Seth—put her hand on Billy’s knee. “Language, honey.”
A kid about eight or so looked up from the book he was reading. “Seth is here? Yeah!” He hopped up and gave Seth a high five and immediately began telling him about some complicated...card game? Kate couldn’t tell.
A little girl, maybe five, squirmed out of Ben Bolton’s arms and came charging up to Seth, who caught her easily. “Set!” she crowed. “Spin me!”
Kate’s heart clenched at the sight of Seth making a little girl squeal with joy while simultaneously carrying on a very important conversation with a kid. Of course he was great with kids. He was perfect, apparently.
And she was...not.
The woman who’d shushed Billy Bolton stood and made her way over to Kate and instantly, every hair on the back of Kate’s neck stood up in warning. “Ignore my husband. Hi, I’m Jenny Bolton. And you are?”
“Kate.” Kate swallowed, trying to remember who she was supposed to be right now. But that wasn’t easy because every single pair of eyes at this tailgate party were now staring at her. Two other women, both about the same age as Jenny Bolton, closed ranks, standing behind Jenny. “Kate Burroughs,” she finally remembered when the one woman with long, dark brown hair raised an eyebrow at her. “Of Zanger Realty. I’m Mr. Bolton’s real estate agent.”
Someone snorted, but Kate kept her focus on the women. Because it suddenly occurred to her—why had she been worried about the Bolton brothers?
She should have been worried about the Bolton women. Including but not limited to the three younger ones running up and down the field.
But maybe not the littlest one. Seth paused in spinning what Kate assumed was another cousin just long enough for the girl to grin at Kate and say, “Your skirt is pretty. Does it twirl?”
“I’m
