As Nat suspected, everyone was there—Will and Finn, Rory and Nash, Mac and Hudson, as well as her ornery daddy and feisty Gran. The French doors leading to the back patio and the play set just beyond it were open, and the laughter of her nieces and June floated in.
“No, not at all,” Asher said. “June had a few too many cupcakes and got sick the other night.”
“Oh no! Poor little thing.”
“Yeah. And, if you want the truth of it, it was all Nash’s fault,” Asher said, completely straight-faced.
“Hey!” Nash said from where he lounged on the sectional in the family room, Rory tucked into his side.
“What, you’re denyin’ it?” Asher tugged Nat along with him, as comfortable in her childhood home as she was. He’d spent nearly as much time there as she had while they’d grown up—when they’d spent time indoors, anyhow. Usually, it was their preference to be out running around and causing all sorts of trouble instead of under the extremely watchful, extremely suffocating eye of the—at one time—town mayor.
“Hell yes, I’m denyin’ it,” Nash said, sounded affronted.
Asher shrugged. “All I’m sayin’ is Nat and I had to clean up puke after you left, and it was all thanks to those cupcakes you brought over from The Sweet Spot.”
With one eyebrow raised, Hudson asked, “Are you sayin’ my sister’s cupcakes are that bad?”
“God, no. They’re a favorite.” Asher sat at one corner of the couch and pulled Nat down next to him. “What I’m sayin’ is, Einstein over here didn’t need to bring over a dozen cupcakes for three sugar-crazy girls.”
“Four,” Nat corrected with a thumb pointed at herself.
“I’m only takin’ the blame for bringin’ ’em,” Nash said. “It’s your fault she ate so damn many.”
“You talkin’ about me or June?” Nat asked.
“Wait—go back to the part where you said you andNatcleaned it up,” Mac said, her eyes wide and lips parted in shock.
Rory nodded. “Yeah, are you sure you weren’t delirious and imagined it all?”
Will—the gentlest Haven—still razzed her. “Maybe you meant she laughed and pointed while you cleaned it up?”
“Shut up, brats,” Nat said on a laugh. “I pulled that vomit-laden shirt off June before gettin’ her scrubbed clean in a bath.”
“And what’d you do with the shirt?” Finn asked from where he lounged in a chair, his arm around Will’s hips as she sat on the arm.
Nat shrugged, unrepentant. “I threw it at Asher.”
A heaping dose of laughter erupted around the room, along with a chorus of responses.
Her momma said, “Now why would you go and do a thing like that?” at the same time Gran said, “That’s my Nat,” with a twinkle in her eye.
“Sounds about right,” Daddy said. Then, under his breath, he continued, “Girl’s never done an honest day’s work in her life. She certainly wouldn’t start with vomit.”
In all her twenty-six years, Nat had never been able to hold her tongue when it came to her daddy, which was why the words were tumbling out before she could even think twice. “You’re right—I should probably start with solitaire. Maybe pull in a paycheck from the town while I’m at it. Can you give me some pointers at that, Daddy?”
Mac pressed her lips together though her shoulders shook with silent laughter. Will bit her bottom lip in what appeared to be an effort to stop her smile, though Finn didn’t have any qualms and beamed a full-toothed grin. Even Rory seemed to be struggling at holding it together, considering she was currently turned toward Nash, who met Nat’s eyes, his filled with laughter. Gran smirked behind her usual predinner cocktail as Daddy’s face grew redder with each passing second.
“Now, just a minute, young lady. I did a lot more than that in my time servin’ as mayor.”
“Of course,” Nat said with a definitive nod. “There was also the golf, which took up many an afternoon. ’Fraid I’m not much for that particular pastime, though. Now that you’re no longer the mayor, have you had business cards printed up for bein’ a professional pain in the ass?”
She knew she shouldn’t goad him, especially considering his heart attack and subsequent open heart surgery several months back, but the truth was, she lost every bit of her brain when she was around her daddy. She’d avoided Havenbrook as much because of him as the town.
“Well,” her momma said, handing off Owen to Nat. “I think that’s the cue for dinner. Y’all wash up and call the girls in. Rory, Will, Mac—will y’all set the table, please?”
Mac huffed and rolled her eyes. “What, Nat gets off scot-free? Figures.”
“I believe your sister has her hands full with a baby, does she not?” her momma shot back, one eyebrow raised.
