Good.
I shove a tray of food into his hands harder than necessary, then grab one myself. We both head towards the dining room, and with him slightly in front of me, I kick his right foot into his left calf.
He trips, but annoyingly recovers easily, then attempts to shove me into the wall. I pause my stride, making him miss me entirely and fall into the wall himself, spilling salad onto the floor just as Mom bursts in.
“For crying out loud, boys,” she scolds, arms thrown out wide. “You are grown men!”
We both laugh, and I leave Mav to clean up the mess on the floor.
“Some of us,” I mutter under my breath, but I know he hears me.
“Fuck you, Wes!” he shouts in response.
I distantly hear my mom snapping at him, and I smirk.
In the dining room, I see Ivy helping Lilah into her seat before handing her the cup of chocolate milk she was balancing in one hand. She slides down into the chair beside her just as I walk over.
I rest my hand on the back of Ivy’s chair, leaning down close to her ear, so she can hear me over the chaos that is my family.
“You need something to drink?” I ask her quietly.
She jolts, obviously not expecting me so close. She turns her head slightly, meeting my eye, nearly bringing us nose to nose. Her tongue traces her bottom lip and my eyes flick down to stare at the shine it leaves behind. Fuck. She smells sweet, and clean.
“Um, water please,” she breathes out.
Her tone is just like this morning when she said my name. I’d convinced myself I was exaggerating how hot her soft voice was. Nope, not exaggerating. I standback to my full height, and get her a water bottle from the fridge. When I return, I set it in front of Ivy without a word, then move down to sit on the other side of Lilah.
“Thank you,” Ivy says quietly, and I dip my chin in response.
Everyone is in their seats now, dishing out food. The sound of utensils banging on serving dishes, and plates clinking together fills the room.
“So, Ivy. How was your first week? My son givin’ you a hard time?” My dad asks Ivy across the table with a grin.
Ivy takes the dish of rice from Lincoln and responds while serving herself. “No, not at all. Wesley and Delilah have been wonderful.”
At the sound of Ivy calling me by my full name, everyone pauses, silence cloaking the room. They look at me, then Ivy, then at each other. It’s only for a second, but Ivy notices. My dad looks at me with a self-satisfied smile. I do not return it.
“Well, good. Glad to hear it,” he says, offering Ivy a wink.
“Sophie, what the hell happened with James? Irene swore to me he was a good man,” my mother says, taking pity on me and changing the subject.
Everyone’s attention immediately shifts away from us, and the racket of dinner resumes.
Sophie glares daggers at me from across the table and I wince back at her, hoping it conveys my guilt. I heard about that douchebag, James. He’s not a good man. In fact, I’ve heard around town hownotgood he is, and over my dead body will he come around Soph again.
“Did I say something wrong?” Ivy whispers, leaning closer to me.
I scoop Mac and Cheese onto Lilah’s plate, and Lilah pretends Burrito is eating, pecking the fuzzy mouth at it like a chicken.
“No,” I whisper back, shaking my head.
She nods once, still frowning, obviously confused by everyone's reaction.
“Bug, if you do that, we’ll have to wash Burrito tonight and you won’t get to sleep with her.”
“Oh yeah.” She puts Burrito back in her lap, then leans down and whispers, “Sorry,” into the stuffed dragon’s ear.
The rest of dinner goes smoothly. We talked about Sophie’s failed date with that dickhead and more potential suitors my mom can think of. Maverick, who owns the only dive bar in town—The Whiskey Hollow—talked about how the bar’s doing and that he needs to hire more bartenders. Warmer weather means more tourists.
