Page 33 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis (In The Heart of A Valentine #17)

Chapter

Twenty-Three

NAOMI

My father was grilling ribs when Christian and I arrived at my parents’ house. The backyard was already full of relatives I hadn’t seen since last summer, kids running around with water balloons, and the smell of barbecue smoke mixing with my mother’s famous baked beans.

“There she is!” My cousin Patrice appeared at the gate before we could even make it to the porch, pulling me into a hug that nearly knocked me over. “And this must be Christian.”

“Yes, this is Christian. Christian, my cousin Patrice.”

Christian extended his hand and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Patrice.”

“Oh, he’s got manners.” Patrice looked him up and down, as if evaluating livestock. “That’s a good start.”

“Patrice, be nice,” I warned.

“I’m always nice. I’m just thorough.”

She led us into the backyard, where my mother was arranging food on the picnic tables and my Uncle Charles was already holding court near the cooler, probably telling the same fishing story he’d been telling for fifteen years.

My mother spotted us immediately and came over, wiping her hands on her apron. “Hey, baby.” She smiled at Christian. “And you must be Christian.”

“Mrs. Blackford, thank you for having me. I brought dessert.” Christian held up the pie he’d insisted on making that morning.

“Homemade peach pie,” he said. “My aunt’s recipe.”

My mother’s face lit up. “Tell your aunt I said thank you. She didn’t have to make a pie.”

“She didn’t,” I said. “Christian made it.”

Her face brightened even more. “A man who bakes. Naomi, you didn’t tell me he was perfect.”

“Oh goodness.”

“What? It’s true.” She beamed at Christian. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone.”

I noticed a similarity almost instantly. Over the next hour, our gathering was buzzing much like Christian’s family gathering had.

Christian met my aunts, Serena and Belinda, my cousin Ebony, who was thrilled to see him in person, and my Uncle Charles, who immediately started asking about his thoughts on the Cardinals’ pitching staff.

We got pulled apart eventually, which was inevitable with so much going on.

Still, I watched from across the yard as Christian held his own in a conversation about baseball statistics with three of my uncles.

He wasn’t just being polite or nodding along; he knew what he was talking about, and I was sure being an entertainment sports attorney helped with that extensive knowledge.

“He’s different from what I expected,” my father said, rolling up beside me in his wheelchair.

“Different how?”

“Ebony made him sound like some high-class lawyer, and I assumed he wouldn’t know how to talk to regular people. But look at him.” My father nodded toward Christian, who was now helping my cousin’s son fix a broken water gun. “He fits right in.”

“Yeah, he does.”

“Were you worried he wouldn’t?”

“No. He’s been nothing but the best of everything.”

“You sound like you’re in love.” He stared at me, but I averted my eyes. “You are, aren’t you?”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“I’m not jumping. I’m asking. Are you or are you not in love with him?”

I didn’t respond, and my daddy sighed. “Let me go over here and talk to this young man.”

I grabbed his shoulder. “Wait. He’s not young. And you don’t have to grill him, Dad. Our relationship is new and fragile.”

“So what? I can’t talk to him because of that?”

“You can’t grill him because of that. Take it easy.”

He sighed again. “I’ll do it this time. For your sake.”

I kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Daddy.”

After we ate, Patrice announced it was time for games. In our family, that meant serious competition.

“UNO!” she declared, pulling out a deck of cards. “Christian, you ever play UNO?”

“Once or twice.”

“Good. House rules apply. Draw four means draw six, and if you don’t say UNO before your last card, you draw ten.”

We gathered around the picnic table—me, Christian, Patrice, Ebony, and my cousin Devon, who took card games way too seriously.

The first round started friendly enough. Christian played his cards quietly, not saying much, just observing everyone else’s strategy. But by the third round, it was clear he wasn’t just playing, he was studying.

“Draw four,” he said, placing the card in front of Devon with an apologetic smile.

“Man, come on!” Devon protested, reaching for the deck.

“Sorry. Wild card, color is blue.”

By the fifth round, Christian had won three games in a row.

“How are you doing this?” Ebony demanded, shuffling the deck aggressively.

“I’m lucky, I guess.”

“That’s not luck,” Patrice said, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re counting cards, aren’t you?”

“It’s UNO, not blackjack.”

“Don’t matter. You’re doing something.”

Christian just smiled and dealt the next hand.

He won that round, too.

“Okay, that’s enough UNO,” I said, laughing at my family’s shocked faces. “You’re making them question everything they know about card games.”

“Family Feud next!” Uncle Charles announced from across the yard. “Teams of four!”

“Christian, you’re with us,” Patrice said immediately.

“Actually,” I said, standing up, “Christian’s with me.”

“That’s not fair,” Devon complained. “You two probably think alike.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

We divided into two teams—me, Christian, Ebony, and my cousin Jerome against Patrice, Devon, Uncle Charles, and my Aunt Serena. My mother acted as host, reading questions from the game cards.

“Survey says, name something people do when they’re nervous,” she announced.

“Bite their nails,” Patrice called out.

“Number four answer! Twenty points!”

The game went back and forth, with both teams answering questions about everything from items found in a kitchen to reasons people call in sick to work. But every time it was our turn, Christian and I fell into this rhythm where we seemed to know what the other was thinking.

“Name something people lose,” my mother read.

Christian looked at me, eyebrows raised. I nodded.

“Their keys,” he said.

“Number one answer! Thirty-eight points!”

“How did you know I was thinking of keys?” I asked.

“You do this thing with your hands when you can’t find something. You pat your pockets in this specific order—back pocket, front pocket, purse.”

I stared at him. “You’ve been watching me look for my keys?”

“I’ve been watching you, period.”

My heart did a little jig.

“Name something people do at the beach.”

We looked at each other again. This time, Christian waited for me to answer.

“Swim,” I said.

“Number two answer! Twenty-seven points!”

By the end of the game, we’d won by forty points.

“That’s not natural,” Uncle Charles declared, shaking his head. “Y’all got some kind of telepathy thing going on.”

“We just think alike, it seems,” I said, but even I was a little amazed at how well we’d worked together.

“It seems?” Ebony laughed. “You answered every single question like you’d discussed it beforehand.”

We settled into lawn chairs as the afternoon wore on, everyone full of food and exhausted from competition. The kids were still running around, but most of the adults were content to sit in the shade and digest their food.

“So,” my Aunt Serena said to Christian. “What kind of hobbies do you have?”

“I run mostly. I cycle when I have time.”

“Running’s good exercise,” my father said approvingly. “I used to run five miles every morning before my deployment.”

“I’m actually training for a marathon right now. The St. Louis Stretch in two weeks.”

I nearly choked on my iced tea. “You’re doing the St. Louis Stretch?”

“Yes, why?”

“That’s the marathon I’m cycling for. I’ve been training for it three days a week.”

Christian stared at me. “You’re doing the St. Louis Stretch, too?”

“The cycling portion, yeah.”

The whole family went quiet, everyone looking back and forth between us like we’d just revealed we were secret agents.

“Wait,” Patrice said slowly. “You’re both doing the same marathon? And you didn’t know?”

“We never talked about a marathon,” I said, my mind racing. “I just thought running was his morning routine.”

“I thought the same about your cycling,” he said.

“What are the odds of that?” Ebony asked.

“Pretty slim,” Christian said, still looking at me with amazement. “What charity are you riding for?”

“Veterans’ assistance. Funding for adaptive equipment.” I gestured toward my father. “What about you?”

“Veterans’ assistance. Specifically, adaptive equipment funding.”

The silence stretched even longer this time.

“Okay, that’s just weird,” Devon said.

“It’s not weird,” my mother said firmly. “It’s meant to be.”

I gave her a look.

“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice,” she said. “You two have been doing the same thing, for the same cause, at the same time, without even knowing it. That’s not a coincidence. That’s the universe aligning things, honey.”

I looked at Christian, who was staring back at me with the same expression I probably had on my face, wonder and disbelief.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Uncle Charles said, raising his beer. “To Naomi and Christian, who apparently think so much alike they even pick the same charities.”

Everyone raised their drinks, laughing and shaking their heads at the impossibility of it all.

Later, as we were cleaning up, I found myself standing next to Patrice while she scraped plates.

“You know,” she said, “he’s nothing like your ex.”

“Nobody’s anything like my ex.”

“Your ex used to show up to these things and spend the whole time on his phone or complaining. Christian’s been here four hours, and he’s helped serve food, fixed two broken toys, and won at every game we threw at him without making anyone feel bad about losing.”

“He’s competitive but not mean about it.”

“And the way he looks at you...” Patrice shook her head. “Your ex never looked at you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like he can’t believe he gets to be here with you.”

I glanced across the yard where Christian was helping my father check the air pressure in his wheelchair tires. They were discussing something serious, my father with his arms crossed, while Christian listened intently.

“Maybe he’s someone you can trust,” Patrice continued. “You should think about keeping him around.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Good. Because if you let him go, I’m going to adopt him myself. We need someone who can actually win at UNO in this family.”

I laughed, but as I watched Christian push my father’s wheelchair closer to the shade, I realized Patrice was right. Christian didn’t just fit into my world; he improved it.

And somehow, without either of us planning it, we’d been working toward the same goal for months. Training for the same event, supporting the exact cause, caring about the same things.

For the first time since all this started, I let myself imagine what permanence might look like.

Sunday dinners with both our families. Christian was fixing things around my parents’ house while I helped my mother in the kitchen.

Holidays, birthdays, and all the ordinary moments that made up a real life together.

It scared me how much I wanted it.

But for the first time, it didn’t scare me enough to run.

When we left, my entire family walked us to the car like we were visiting royalty.

“You bring him back soon,” my mother ordered, hugging Christian goodbye.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And next time, bring more of that pie.”

“I’ll make two.”

Christian’s hand squeezed mine across the center console, and I squeezed his fingers.

“Your family’s wonderful,” he said.

“They liked you. That’s not easy to do.”

“What do you think Uncle Charles feels about me?”

“He doesn’t approve of anyone, but he dragged you around all evening. So what does that tell you?”

He chuckled. “What gave me away with the UNO thing?”

I laughed. “You were watching everyone’s tells. The way Devon always touched his chin when he had a good hand, how Patrice bit her lip when she was trying to decide which card to play.”

“I’m good at what I do.”

“Maybe a little. But it was impressive cheating.”

“I don’t cheat, woman.”

I laughed as we pulled away.

“So, the St. Louis Stretch,” I said. “That’s really weird, right?”

“No.” He leaned across the seat and kissed my lips. “It’s serendipity.”