I groan. Sam walks through the open back door, and I do my best to avoid eye contact with him so I don’t turn the color of Rosie’s garden tomatoes. He stands near Duke, taking a long swig of his Miller Lite. No one seems to have noticed that I’m wearing his shirt, which I realized was probably a dumb move on my part as soon as we got here. I still like the way it feels on my skin, like he’s touching me somehow.
“I guess, but not tonight.” I step behind the kitchen island to help Dallas with setting up the toppings and mixing up the special sauce for the smashburgers.
Duke grabs the barstool in front of her, sliding it out and taking a seat. I glance up to see him smirking at Dallas. I roll my eyes at him, pitying her. She’s keeping her face turned down, blatantly ignoring him as she mixes up the mayo, ketchup, Dijon mustard, and spices.
“What are you making?” he asks.
She doesn’t respond. I hand her the dill pickle relish.
She turns and smiles at me. “Thank you, Dolly.”
I nod, holding back a smile of my own. “You’re welcome.”
Duke tries again. “Dallas, what are you mixing up?”
She purses her lips, stirring the spoon even faster in the bowl. I look up at Duke and see that he’s grinning even wider now. He reaches forward, dipping his finger right into the orange sauce. With lightning-fast speed, she whips her hand out and smacks his away.
“Hey!” he protests, lifting his finger to his lips. He lets out a sensual groan. “Mmm. Damn, she can cook too?”
She rolls her eyes, moving to the other end of the island with the bowl. I shake my head at my brother.
He mouths,She’s so into me.
I mouth back,You’re delusional.
Sterling comes inside, walking over to the same end of the island where Dallas is. She peers up at him, batting her lashes.
“Hey,” she says.
He’s always been the quiet one, but he perks up when she lays her hand on his arm.
“Hey, you.”
As far as I know, their date is scheduled for tomorrow, but Rosie said they’ve been texting. Jo swipes the barstool next to Duke, in front of Sam. Rosie sets Bonnie’s and Birdie’s plates infront of me with a knife, and I busy myself with cutting their burger patties into tiny pieces, knowing without a word that’s what she’s asking of me.
“What’s been going on in your life lately, Jo?” Duke asks, seemingly unbothered by the exchange between Sterling and Dallas.
She shrugs. “Still working for my dad.”
“Old Harry’s, huh? Do they still do the wet T-shirt contest every week?” Duke smirks, looking over at Holden.
Rosie participated in the contestoncebefore they officially accepted their feelings for each other. Holden gets pissed about it every time someone brings it up, but especially when that person is Duke.
Holden shoots a death glare at his younger brother.
“Yep. Harry doesn’t exactly view women as more than objects,” Jo says, her voice emotionless.
I don’t really know Jo that well, but I can’t imagine how hard it would be to be an only child, raised by a misogynistic father like Harry.
“All right, come and get it. A big thank-you to all you ladies for helping prepare the food.” Holden smacks Rosie’s butt as she walks by with milk glasses for the girls.
They have a mini pink picnic table outside for the kids that Rosie painted. Dallas’s twin boys, Dawson and Dutton, are about a year older than Bonnie and Birdie. They have curly blond hair like their mom and are the cutest little things I’ve ever seen after my nieces. They’re also huge troublemakers, even as toddlers. I can’t imagine what they will be like in a few years, when they can reach things on the kitchen counter.
They’re wrestling with each other over a toy dump truck on the ground near the picnic table. Bonnie and Birdie are watching them cautiously, dressed in matching yellow gingham dresses that I bought for them on Etsy. Rosie steps around the boys togive her girls the glasses of milk. I follow her out, grinning at the adorable group as I set the plates down in front of them on the table.
“Here you go, girls. These boys are crazy, aren’t they?”
They nod in unison, eyes wide as they continue watching the show. Dallas walks out with the boys’ plates, hurrying toward us.
