“Don’t forget the cookout at my place this evening. You’re all welcome to bring your families and significant others. It’s a good opportunity for everyone to get to know one another a bit more,” Bennett tacks on.
“What about the rocket I brought home last night that probably hasn’t left my bed yet?” our teammate, Pacer, asks.
Bennett shakes his head at one of our team’s playboys. “Let’s keep it to plus ones that you know the last names of, yeah?”
“You got it, Cap,” Pacer replies.
Starting the music back up, Benny goes to take a seat at his locker stall to strip out of his equipment. He’s been even more intense during this preseason training than he was last year, if that’s even possible. I wonder if it’s everything that went down with Carlisle’s daughter that has him so worked up.
I’m brought out of my thought spiral when Jax asks, “So, are you bringing Super Nanny to the cookout?”
“If you’re asking if I’m bringing my girlfriend, who now shares a home with me, to the team cookout on her birthday, the answer would be hell-fucking-yes.”
“You’re so fucking smug, slipping the fact that she’s officially moved in with you into your answer like that,” Jax quirks. “But I’m glad Dakota is coming tonight. She’s not going to want to miss the little team competition I have planned.”
“And what would that be?” Griff asks.
“A food-eating competition,” Jax answers with a sly smirk.
“Fuck that. Why would we get ourselves sick the night before a preseason game?” Griff questions.
“Let’s just say it won’t be your conventional food-eating competition,” Jax retorts.
Not willing to miss another minute more of Dakota’s birthday than I need to, I hang up the rest of my gear and rush through my shower so I can get home to my birthday girl.
“Happy birthday, Austen!” I shout as I walk into our house with her birthday surprise clinging to my chest.
“Thank—Carson, what is that?” she questions, staring at me wide-eyed.
“It’s our baby,” I inform her.
“Carson, that is not a baby,” she protests.
“You’re right. He’s our fur baby,” I correct myself.
“He looks like a lynx—he’s huge!” she exclaims.
“Takes after his dad that way,” I coo down at the little guy. “Don’t you, buddy? He’s a Maine Coon cat. A total badass, isn’t he?”
“Carson Warren Wilder, you cannot just bring home a cat and expect me not to have questions. Did you—” She cuts off, holding her hand to her forehead. “Did you steal him?”
I scoff at that. “Steal him? Dakota, do I look like I could steal anything? Isavedhim. He’s a rescue. We’re giving him a second chance. So what should we name him, Mama?”
Her face softens when I call her that, and I can see she’s about to crack from the puppy dog eyes I’m giving her.
“You crazy man. You’re not supposed to just bring home pets without discussing it with me first.” Her weak attempt to scold me is cute.
“We did talk about it. In Italy, remember?” I remind her.
“I don’t think I’d count that as agreeing to get a pet. We were talking about them in the future sense. You know, kind of like how we also talked about marriage, babies, and everything else.”
I bite my lip seductively, waggling my eyebrows at her. “Don’t tempt me, Austen. I’ll knock your sweet ass up right this minute.”
She nearly chokes on air at my suggestion. “Carson, oh my god!” she guffaws in exasperation.
“What?” I scoff as if she’s the one talking crazy. Looking down at our nameless fur babe, I point at him before finding her gaze on us. “I think our little guy is already getting lonely. We should consider siblings for him in the near future.”
“Not. Happening,” she grumbles.
