“Sports!” Tag called triumphantly, landing on an orange square.

“How do you always land on sports?” Kyla complained. “Okay. Who played for the New York Rangers, the Brooklyn Dodgers and the New York Knicks in a single season?”

Tag stared at her, turned to look at Jase and got a blank look in return. “Rangers? Dodgers? Knicks? That’s impossible. There’s no one who’s played for all those teams.”

Kyla tapped her finger on her bottom lip in a very distracting way. Tag momentarily forgot all about sports.

“Give up?”

“Guess,” Jase said to him.

“I got nothing.”

Kyla grinned. “Gladys Gooding. The organist.”

Tag groaned and fell back in his chair. “Shit!”

Laughing silently, Kyla slipped the card back into the box. The game continued until Kyla and Remi got the question, “Who shot Lee Harvey Oswald?”

Remi smiled and looked at Kyla. “You know that?”

“Jack Ruby.”

“Yes!”

The two girls high-fived. “We win! This is fun!” Kyla said, wiggling in her chair. “Let’s play again.”

“We need to go put the kids to bed,” Jess said, standing with the baby. Scott immediately rose too. “Good night, everyone.”

“They get some alone time,” Jase said with a look at Remi. Her cheeks went pink.

“You’ve got your own bedroom, what are you complaining about?” Tag said. “Hey, that reminds me. Mom, do we still have that tent we used to put up in the backyard?”

“Yes. It’s in the shed. Why?”

“I was thinking I’d like to sleep out there. Matt snores and it’s bugging me.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Yeah, you do.” Tag grinned. “I’ll find it later. Okay, one more game. We have to kick butt here.”

“I’m out,” Doug said. “You kids are too competitive for me.”

The two sets of parents picked up their drinks and moved to sit on the couches, leaving Jase and Tag, Kyla and Remi and Michael, Matt and Logan.

“Okay. What does the C stand for in the equation E=Mc squared?”

Kyla turned to Remi wide-eyed. “Jesus. No clue.”

“The speed of light,” Remi said.

“Oh for…yes that’s right.” Michael grumbled as he returned the card to the box and Tag caught the look of pride on Jase’s face. His chest warmed inside. Damn. Seeing his little brother so happy and in love almost made him…nah.

The guys got the next one right and the intensity rose with each question. Kyla was bouncing in her seat most distractingly again. “You love this, don’t you?” Tag said to her.

She tipped her head to one side. “Are you saying I’m competitive?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t deny it. And right backatcha, Mr. We-have-to-win-the-Stanley-Cup.”

“Sure, sure, rub it in. Jase came closest of any of us this year to winning the Cup.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jase said.

“Can you imagine?” Kyla said, rolling the dice. “If Jase had won the Stanley Cup and brought it home, along with the Jets coming back and Matt getting a first-round draft pick…oh my god, the city would be going crazy!”

“Yeah, it’s probably good you lost,” Tag told Jase helpfully.

“Thanks, man.” Jase lifted a hand with the middle finger raised, not high enough for his parents to see, but everyone at the table snickered.

Soon it was down to the last question for Tag and Jase to win. Matt read the question. “How many strokes make up a quadruple bogey on a par five golf hole?”

Tag closed his eyes, briefly, then said, “Nine.”

“I knew that!” Kyla cried. “Damn!”

“We each won one game,” Tag said.

“Let’s play again!” Kyla said. Everyone else groaned. She slouched back. “Okay. Fine. I need another glass of wine.”

When Kyla finally rolled out of bed at nearly noon the next morning, fire burned her inner thighs and her legs gave out and she fell back onto the bed. Oh my god. The skiing yesterday had damn near killed her. Oh man, she was so out of shape. How pathetic. She managed to get to her feet and hobble to the bathroom. Her arms and shoulders screamed with pain at every movement. Lifting her arms to brush her teeth and her hair caused more burning across her muscles and she grimaced at her reflection.

She found the cottage empty and quiet. She hadn’t even heard Emily get up. The guys had planned to go golfing at a nearby course first thing in the morning. The girls were probably outside or over at the Hellers’.

She found coffee still hot in the coffeemaker and painfully made herself a piece of toast and peanut butter. Jeez. She needed some ibuprofen or something. Thank god she’d turned down the golf invitation, though she’d been tempted to tag along with the guys like she always had. Today she was going to go down to the beach, on hands and knees if necessary, flop down on the sand and lie there for the rest of the day.

She changed into her pink bathing suit, the black one still damp from yesterday, scooped up a bottle of SPF 30, slid her digital reader into a Ziploc bag to protect it from sand and grabbed a towel and a beach blanket. With painful steps she made her way across the yard, through the poplar trees and shrubs, and onto the beach.

She spread the blanket and sat, her thigh muscles crying out as she lowered herself. She picked up the sunscreen. She wouldn’t be able to do her back. Oh well. She’d just tan her front first. So she slathered up her front with sun protection, lay down, closed her eyes and breathed in the warm air. Some distant laughter and splashing and the hum of a boat out on the lake reached her ears. The sun warmed her face and relaxing heat seeped through her body. She sighed. Why had she not wanted to come up here again? She loved living in the city, loved restaurants and movies and concerts and shopping, hated leaving all that…but it was so nice here.

She might have dozed off a little, but awoke when a shadow covered her face. She cracked open one eye to see Tag sitting beside her on the blanket. “Hey,” she said. She tried to sit up, but gave up at the protest of her muscles and fell back down with a whimper. “You’re done golfing?”

“Yeah.”

“Who won?”

“Depends who you ask. Honestly, it was me. But it was close and I personally think all those other guys cheated.”

She laughed.

“Getting some sun, I see,” he said, and the husky tone of his voice prompted her to open her eyes again. He was wearing sunglasses, but she could feel his gaze on her, studying her from head to toe. Her nipples tingled and tightened in the thin cups of her suit and her stomach did a little flip.

“Yes. Actually, I could use some help putting sunscreen on my back.”

“I’m your man.”

She went to roll over but stopped with a groan. “Oh god.”

“What’s wrong? Are you sick again?”

“I was never sick,” she said crossly. “I just have a few sore muscles today.”

“From that little bit of skiing? Mac, honey, you clearly need to work out.”

“Thanks so much.”

“I don’t mean you look like you need to work out. You look…” He paused and cleared his throat. “You look freakin’ amazing. But don’t you go to a gym or something?”

“I haven’t for a while.” She pushed herself slowly over onto her stomach, painful knives stabbing into her muscles. “Too busy.”

“No wonder you’re so stressed. Exercise is the best way to deal with that.” A cold squirt of liquid landed on her back and she twitched. Then he started rubbing it in with slow, sensual strokes. “Seriously.”

“I know, but I’m busy. Some day I’ll have time for that.”

Some day. It seemed like a lot of her life was going to start “some day”―the day she made partner. Tag’s hands moved up and down her back, pressing into sore muscles.

“Oh my god,” she moaned.

“Feel good?”

“Mmmm.” He kneaded her sore shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the hollows beneath her shoulder blades, his palms sliding with firm pressure down the ridges of muscles along her spine. “You’re good at that.”