“Are we interrupting something?” my son’s deep voice asked from the doorway.
“Nope,” Donovan replied, his humor-filled gaze still holding mine. “It’s your house, so how can you interrupt when you’ve got every right to come and go as you please?”
Right answer, I thought to myself.
“You want that coffee or not?” I asked sassily.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “You gonna make me a sammich, too, woman?”
I gave him a ‘what the fuck?’ look. “You and Deej hoovered up half the buffet between you not three hours ago.”
“We’re growing boys,” DJ pointed out, making his way over to study the tray of coffee pods. “You making coffee?”
Pulling away from Donovan, I turned and gave DJ the same ‘what the fuck?’ look I’d just given Donovan. “You won’t sleep if you drink coffee at this hour.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he muttered, taking the vacant stool beside Donny.
I sighed, my gaze going to the doorway where Gabby appeared with a panting Barney. “You want a hot chocolate and a sandwich, baby?”
“Hot chocolate, yes. Sandwich, no,” she decided, climbing up onto the stool next to her brother. “I ate loads at the wedding.” She eyed my dress. “You’re usually in your jammies by now.”
I clicked a pod into the Keurig and reminded her, “We’ve got company.”
“Don’t mind me,” Donovan interjected. “Go put your PJs on.”
“No. Don’t,” DJ ordered.
“Why?” I asked.
“Mom,” my son said matter-of-factly. “You know your PJs are, well... small.”
Donovan laughed softly. “Like I said. Don’t mind me.”
Gabby giggled.
I shook my head, and my eyes rolled, landing on Barney, who was sitting nicely at my feet just like the good boy he was. Kneeling down, I gave him a neck rub. “You're such a good, special baby boy,” I crooned. “You want a beer?”
Barney whined and gave me his paw.
Clearly shocked, Donny asked, “You give your dog beer?”
“It’s special dog beer she gets from an online store,” DJ informed him. “She gives him doggy prosecco, too.” He dipped his chin, holding Donovan’s stare, and said gravely, “You’ll come to find out that our mom’s a bit loopy.”
“Well, you kids go out all the time, and I get bored, so Barney and I have a little drinky-poo together.” I changed my tone like I was talking to a baby and rubbed my cheek across Barney's furry face. “Don’t we, my sweet, handsome boy?”
My eyes shifted to see Donovan throw his head back and laugh, and my belly fluttered again. It was a sight to behold. His sage green button-up was mostly undone down to the waist, but the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. On any other man, it would appear scruffy, but on Donovan, it looked hot. Maybe it was the expanse of cool, religious tattoos that covered his torso, or the black-and-white Japanese-themed images that littered his arms. Either way, it gave him an edge that appealed to me on a base level.
He caught me checking him out, and his dimple flashed. “You okay there, Posy?” he asked innocently, knowing full well that I was, in fact, not at all okay, proven by the butterflies intensifying in my stomach and the quickening of my breath.
“I’ve got leftover meatballs, turkey, or cheddar cheese—” I began.
“Meatballs,” DJ cut in before I’d even finished speaking. He turned to Donovan. “Mom’s Italian meatballs are the best.”
“Meatballs it is then,” Donny agreed. “I gotta take you all to my ma’s for a Sunday roast. They’re the shit.” He turned to the kids. “You ever had Yorkshire puddings?”
The kids shook their heads.
“You’re in for a treat.” He cocked his head in thought. “She’s flying out to Ireland in a couple of weeks, so how about we go next Sunday?”
