13. Dane

13

DANE

The ride to the ranch is wrought with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. I didn’t expect Morgan to agree to let me tag along. I’m not sure she did, either.

Almost the moment the driver pulled away from the hotel, her jaw clenched, and she stared out of her window with obvious unease. If I were a better man, I would’ve bowed out of imposing myself on her family. But the feeling that this is the only chance I’ll have to scale the walls erected between us is too strong to ignore.

We’re on the cusp of something. What that is, I’m not sure. But I won't forgive myself if I don’t try to figure that out.

We drive fifteen minutes outside the city limits before the driver reaches a private drive blocked by a metal gate. Morgan thanks the driver and slides out of the car.

I catch the guy’s eye in the rearview and dip my head. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem. You played a hell of a game tonight.”

“I appreciate that.” I had no idea he recognized me. I take a hundred out of my wallet and pass it to him. “And I’d appreciate it if no one knew this is where my girlfriend and I came tonight.”

Usually, I wouldn’t be worried about paparazzi showing up. Most athletes aren’t celebrities in the sense that the public doesn’t care about our personal lives beyond the token heartwarming tale of perseverance in the face of adversity or an untimely tragedy.

But my performance in round one has increased the talk of naming me the league MVP this year. Combined with the news that I’m in a relationship after years of not having a girlfriend, the chances a reporter decides to investigate the rumor that I’m spending quality time at said girlfriend’s house is higher than I would like.

It's better to be safe than sorry.

“You got it.” The driver takes the cash. “Have a good night.”

I sense Morgan’s thoughts are running a mile a minute as we walk up the long drive leading to an impressive two-story home that looks more like a mini-mansion than a ranch home.

I wait for Morgan to say something—maybe a helpful hint on how to act when I meet her brothers for the first time. Should I shake their hand? Or should I just nod a greeting when she introduces us?

It’s been over a decade since I met a girlfriend’s family. Any advice would be welcome.

But Morgan is silent. The unease I felt on the drive over has amplified to a degree that permeates the fresh air.

Three steps lead up to the concrete porch, which runs the length of the house. In the center, a pair of double doors with beveled glass windows sits. In front of them, an extra-long doormat with the initial “C” is laid out.

I’m one step behind Morgan. Her feet barely touch the top step before one of the doors flings open, and a guy with shoulders broader than mine fills the doorway.

“Pipsqueak!” He reaches out and snatches Morgan into his arms, squeezing. “About time you showed up.”

The porch light reveals his bright smile and shaggy brown hair, which matches Morgan’s.

“Let me go, you oaf.” She gasps. “You’re crushing me.”

The guy, I assume, is one of her brothers, obliges only to be replaced by a second broad figure who shoves the first aside and picks her up for another tight hug.

“Morgie! Took you long enough to get here.”

Morgie?

I snicker. Cute.

I stiffen when I notice the two men are now staring at me. The second one’s eyes trail over me as he still holds Morgan in his arms.

“You brought Larson?” I can’t get a read on if he’s indifferent or irritated by that fact.

“I did.” She slaps a hand on his arm. “Put me down so I can introduce you.”

The second guy, who is just slightly taller than the first but still an inch shorter than me, puts Morgan on her feet and straightens.

“Hey, man.” I step forward and hold out a hand to the brother who last put Morgan down. “I’m Dane.”

He eyes my hand for a prolonged second. I don’t waver. I know a test when I see one. And I’m determined to pass his inspection.

Finally, Morgan’s brother takes my hand. His grip is firm but not over-the-top. “I’m Mason.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The other brother steps forward. “I’m Miles.”

We shake hands.

“You’re twins, right?”

“We are.” The pair say simultaneously as they glance at their sister. “Been talking about us, Pipsqueak?” Miles asks.

“Hardly.” Morgan scoffs, but she casts me a curious look, wondering how I knew her brothers were twins. She should know Eli tells me what they talk about.

“Where’s Matthew?” Morgan brushes past her brothers and enters the house. Miles and Mason follow. As the last inside, I close the door behind me.

“Trying to attach the PS5 to Uncle Pat’s TV in the den,” Mason says.

She wrinkles her nose. “Does that monstrosity even have an HDMI port?”

“Yes, but they aren’t working. We went to town earlier and bought an adapter. We’re hoping it will work.”

Morgan shakes her head. “Well, if it doesn’t, I’m pretty sure there’s an old Nintendo somewhere. We can play Mario Kart.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Miles cracks his knuckles. “I’m in the mood for some domination.”

“You suck at Mario Kart,” Mason insults his twin. “You run off the track at every sharp turn.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Their back and forth continues as we walk through an open foyer decorated with wood baseboards and brown crown molding. Animal trophies are mounted on the walls, including an elk with antlers at least four feet wide. Morgan’s uncle must be a hunter.

We walk to the back of the house, passing a kitchen and formal dining room, and enter a warm den. Pieces of leather furniture with green pillows are arranged in an L shape, angled towards a roaring fireplace. In the corner stands an old school big screen plasma TV.

I whistle.

“What?”

I look at Morgan and motion towards the massive TV. “I haven’t seen one of those in forever. Talk about a blast from the past.”

“I know, right?” She laughs. “Uncle Pat refuses to upgrade. It doesn’t matter how many times we tell him new TVs have better picture quality and use less electricity. He won’t get rid of it.”

“What’s worse is he’s spent enough money repairing this beast to buy at least five new, seventy-five-inch TVs.” Miles shakes his head. “The guy is stubborn.”

“Well, he’s Dad’s brother. What do you expect?” Mason points out.

“True,” Morgan and Miles say at once, sharing a knowing smile that only siblings who’ve grown up together can share.

Seeing the Caldwell siblings together makes me nostalgic about my family—namely Eli. We have a decent age gap, but growing up with a brother made my upbringing more memorable. I used to love taking my baby brother anywhere I went, letting him borrow my hockey jerseys as he ran around the house, pushing a puck with the toy hockey sticks my parents got him. My family of four was happy and full of love—until we weren’t.

“Is that a pipsqueak I hear?” A voice trails out of the dim hallway on the left.

I turn and see a guy who must be the missing brother, Matthew, and while he is the leanest brother, he’s also the tallest. If he stood next to me, I’d have to lift my chin to meet his eye.

The Caldwells have some impressive genes.

“Shut up, Sasquatch.” Morgan grins. She strides over and throws her arms around his neck. Her brother dips down and hugs her with one arm. A dark-gray gaming console is tucked under his other arm. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” He straightens and turns toward me. His smile remains in place, but it’s a little less warm. “Hey. You must be Dane.”

“I am.” I walk over and shake his hand. “Sorry to intrude on your family night. Morgan took pity on me and saved me from hanging out alone in my hotel room.”

Matthew shakes my hand. “You didn’t want to celebrate the win with your teammates?”

“I’d rather celebrate with Morgan.”

A flicker of approval flashes in his gaze, but it’s gone before I can be sure it was there.

“I don’t see why,” Miles chimes in. “Morgan is the wet blanket in our family.”

“Shut up, Miles,” Morgan snaps.

The slightly shorter twin chuckles. “What? You know it’s true.” He looks at me. “This one spends way too long reading the rules for every board game before we can play. It’s torture.”

“I like to play by the rules,” she counters. “Family game nights would have been absolute mayhem if it were up to you guys.”

“Exactly, and that would have been fun. ”

Mason and Matthew laugh at Miles’s words.

I fight off my smile, determined to at least try to seem like I’m on Morgan’s side. In reality, I agree more with her brothers. Eli was the rule follower of the two of us. I preferred to wing it.

Morgan crosses her arms and glares at each of her brothers in turn. “There’s nothing fun about chaos.”

“Says the walking tornado who likes to trigger family arguments during holiday dinners,” Miles counters.

“I do not!”

“No? What about the time you criticized anyone drinking a zero-calorie soda?”

“Those are basically poison!”

“Is that a 64?” I motion at the console under Matthew’s arm, stifling my laughter as I try to shift the conversation.

Matthew shoots me an appreciative look. “Yeah. The adapter didn’t work on that old beast, so I figured we’d see if an old-school system with aux cables does the trick.”

“Dibs on Yoshi!” Miles and Mason shout at the same time and immediately devolve into an argument about who gets to play as the tiny green character.

Matthew and Morgan ignore the twins and get to work setting up the gaming system. I help Matthew shift the box TV forward so Morgan can slip behind and insert the cords into the aux ports.

Once she’s done, Matthew uses the remote to reach the correct input and turns on the Nintendo 64. We all cheer when the device’s logo flashes on the screen.

“I assume you’ve played before.” Mason holds out one of the four controllers to me.

“Yes, but you four should play the first round. I’ll hop in on the next one.”

He nods and turns to his siblings. “Last place gets eliminated and replaced with Larson. After that, last place is eliminated from the tournament until there’s only one standing. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” They chime as one.

It looks like all the Caldwell siblings have the competitive gene.

This is going to be fun.

“So, Dane, why in the world would you ever agree to date our annoying little sister?” Miles asks from his spot on the leather couch beside me. I suspect he’s trying to distract me. Right now, it’s him, Morgan, and me playing to advance to the final round in Mario Kart.

“Excuse you.” Morgan steers Princess Peach into Miles’s car, sending him flying over the edge of the rainbow bridge. “Whoops.”

“You’re going to pay for that,” he growls as he waits for Lakitu to deliver his character back to the race track.

Morgan snorts. “Doubt it.”

I chuckle.

This is the third Mario Kart tournament of the night, and through those races, I’ve learned Morgan and Miles are the most competitive siblings. Neither of them won either of the first two tournaments. That honor went to Matthew first and then yours truly. Now, I’m trying to secure the title of Mario Kart Champion with a second victory.

“You know what, Dane, I feel sorry for you,” Miles says. “Blink twice if Morgan is blackmailing you, and I’ll help you find a way out of dating her.”

Morgan takes the decorative pillow from behind her back and throws it over me, hitting her brother in the head.

“Hey!” He shouts.

“No blackmail here.” I laugh, but it comes out a little strained.

If anyone is blackmailing anyone in this relationship, it’s me. By using her desire to keep her distance from Aaron, I’ve injected myself into her life against her wishes. But I think she’s less bothered by my presence as time passes.

From the way she cheered for me when I beat Mason in the second round of Mario Kart, I’m pretty sure I’m right. But I know better than to get my hopes up when it comes to the stunning brunette who stars in most of my dreams as of late.

“Are you sure?” Miles steers into gold coins. “Because, no offense, but Morgan sucks. You could do better.”

“You’re such a jerk!”

“Agree to disagree.” I steer onto a ramp and soar in the air, landing right in front of Morgan’s car.

Yes!

I scoot forward on the couch and lean my elbows on my knees, hyper-focused. There are three laps left in the game. I can do this.

“If this isn’t a hostage situation, what do you like about her?”

Miles is still trying to distract me, but I get the sense he’s also using the fact my guard is down to get information out of me. This is a test. And it’s one I’m eager to pass.

“Aside from the obvious, Morgan’s smart and thoughtful. She’s driven, and she calls me on my bull shit.” I steer left to avoid a turtle shell that Miles fires from behind me.

“The obvious?” Morgan questions. Her shoulder presses against mine slightly as she tilts her body to match Princess Peach’s turn in the game.

I take my eyes off the screen to find her glancing between me and the TV. “That you’re the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.”

Her eyes widen. She focuses her attention back on the screen, but she can’t hide the color creeping over her cheeks.

“Ugh.”

“Gross.”

“Shut up, man. That’s our sister,” Matthew groans, but the amusement in his voice is hard to miss.

I laugh. “Sorry.” I look at the screen and scowl when I see Miles has taken the lead.

“How did you guys meet?”

If Miles had asked the question, I would tell him to shove it. But since it’s Matthew, I answer, “We met at a club a few months ago.”

“A club?” All three brothers speak at once.

“Yes, a club,” Morgan replies. “I’m an adult, you know. I can go to clubs.”

“I assumed you guys met at work,” Mason says.

“Nope.” I turn on the inside of the track and drive past Morgan, who cries out in annoyance. I grin. “We met before she started working for the Ranchers.”

“But you just started dating, right?” Mason asks.

“Yes,” Morgan clips. I get the sense she wants this conversation to end, but I don’t look away from the TV to see her expression. I want to win.

“Why?” Mason presses, either uncaring or undeterred by his sister’s tone.

I shrug, keeping my eyes on the screen. “I didn’t know Morgan worked for the Ranchers until recently.”

“Wait.” Matthew rejoins the conversation. “Why not?”

I could blame the game for not thinking through what I say next, but that would be a lie. The truth is, I’ve been dying to have this conversation with Morgan since I walked into her boss’s office and saw her sitting there after months of not seeing her.

“Because Morgan gave me a fake number the night we met.” I force my voice to remain easygoing, hiding just how much it stung when I texted Morgan shortly after leaving the club that night, only to be ignored.

I texted her again the next morning, asking if she wanted to meet for lunch. I’d been so eager to see her again—eager to speak to her away from the club’s loud music and flashing lights after months of waiting after I missed my chance at Carter’s barbeque.

My jaw clenches when I remember how stoked I felt when I saw she texted back, only for my excitement to fade when the reply came from someone I didn’t know, telling me I had the wrong number.

It’s been a while since I’ve felt the sting of rejection. I’m a good-looking, professional athlete who rarely puts himself out there and pursues a woman he likes. But when I realized Morgan gave me a fake number, it was a massive blow to my confidence. I thought we’d connected. Hell, we’d shared the most incredible kiss of my life. I was sure that night was the start of something special.

But I was wrong.

Her attitude towards me when our jobs forced us together proved I was right in thinking I’d misinterpreted her interest in me that night.

I feel like an idiot whenever I remember how I laid my cards on the table and told Morgan I’d wanted to meet her for months. I’d been too desperate. It was a turn-off.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Morgan snaps.

There’s one lap left. I’m close to winning, but the ire in her voice yanks my attention away from the game.

Her eyes are narrowed, and her lips are pulled in a deep frown.

I lift a brow. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Her nostrils flare, and she lowers her controller. “I didn’t give you a fake number.”