Dakota’s grin is probably answer enough, but she adds, “Yep.”
Juliette throws her hands in the air, and suddenly there is so much commotion it’s hard to distinguish one voice from the other. So many hugs, tears from Dakota, who swears she doesn’t know why she’s crying, and all-around palpable joy.
I sneak off to the kitchen to pour wine. Jessie finds me just as I’ve finished and helps me carry out the glasses. Wes has already poured whiskey. Apparently it’s the preference of every Hayden man, because they all hold a tumbler. Jessie and I distribute the wine, and Dakota looks longingly at my glass while she sips her water.
“Sushi and wine.” Dakota pats her still-flat stomach. “I’m going to gorge myself on Yellowtail sashimi and a good Spanish red after I have this baby.”
Juliette half-hugs Dakota and tells her she hopes the baby likes pasta because that’s what she made for dinner.
The dining room table is larger than normal, with the leaf pulled out. Warner sits beside me, and his nearness makes me happy. Three days without physical proximity was harder than I’d like to admit. I don’t know what that says about the future. Once dinner is underway and conversation fills the room, Warner leans closer to me. Quietly, he says, “I’ve missed you.”
“Same,” I whisper.
“Avoiding me?”
“Maybe a little,” I admit. I peek down the table at Charlie. He’s smiling while he eats lasagna.
“He’s okay. We talked. He likes you.”
“I’m not sure how all this is supposed to go.”
“None of us do.”
“I—”
“What are you two whispering about?” Gramps cuts into our side conversation.
I smile at the old man. “Warner is giving me some pointers for a scene I’m shooting tomorrow.”
Gramps squints. He knows I’m lying, but he doesn’t call me on it. Under the table, Warner presses his knee against mine. The meal continues, but Warner’s leg doesn’t move.
Juliette has made enough for twice as many people, and after dinner is over Jessie says she’s going to take the third lasagna out to Cowboy House to see if any of the cowboys are hungry.
“Fuck that,” Wyatt says under his breath, pushing back from the table. “You’re not going out to where all the cowboys live by yourself. I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t think I can walk my ass over there in the dark? Afraid I’ll trip over a tree root?”
“It’s the cowboys I don’t trust,” Wyatt says to her back as she stalks from the room, heading for the kitchen. He looks back at us. “Lies. It’s her I don’t trust. She’ll go out there with a lasagna and end up playing strip poker.” Wyatt shoves his chair in and looks directly at Wes and Warner. “Calamity is home for the summer, boys. Get ready.”
I turn curious eyes on Warner. He sees my question and answers it. “When she was little, we all called her Calamity Jessie. Mostly because she had a mouth on her that would make a grown man blush, and no amount of soap would keep her from using it. But also because everywhere she went, chaos followed.”
“I like her.” It feels like something that needs to be said. Jessie’s three much older brothers seem to still view her as a child, instead of an adult who has just finished up her freshman year of college.
“There’s not much to dislike,” Dakota adds.
Wes’s upper lip curls to one side. “Is this some girl power thing?”
Dakota elbows him, not exactly gently. “You’d do well to remember that Jessie is an adult. She is no longer walking chaos, if she ever was at all, and”—Dakota turns her stern look on Wyatt— “if she wants to walk into Cowboy House and strip down, that’s her choice.”
All three Hayden brothers share a long look. Wyatt smacks his hand on the back of his chair and says, “Fuck that. I’m going with her.”
Dakota sends me acan you believe these guyslook, and I laugh.
Warner rakes a hand down his face. “It’s a good thing my kids are helping with the dishes. I don’t need Peyton getting ideas about the cowboys and strip poker.”
Warner refills my wine and adds a finger more of whiskey to his and Wes’s glasses. We go out to the front porch, where the sky has turned navy blue, and wind streaks through the trees, creating a melody of its own. Wes and Dakota settle into a love seat, and opposite it is a single chair. Warner offers me the chair, but I decline, opting to sit on the arm of the chair while he sits down.
Dakota asks me about the movie, and I tell her about how this week went. Warner’s arm slips behind me, his hand coming to rest on my hip. Dakota interrupts me to ask questions, and I answer them. Mostly it’s basic stuff about how movies are made, and how long scenes really take to shoot, and then she asks, “Did you have to kiss that handsome costar of yours this week? Rough life.”
