“On it,” Daphne calls back.
Bea points to all of us collectively. “Iwilltake back all of the risotto if you don’t behave. Understood?”
“I can make my own later,” Ryker says.
“I can help him,” Hudson says.
“I don’t like risotto,” Eddie says.
“Me either,” Charlie agrees.
They share a look.
I don’t like that look.
That look spells trouble.
Based on the way all three of the Best siblings are now glancing at each other, I suspect they’re also familiar with this look and they know it means trouble as well.
“Better go light on Simon’s,” Bea calls to Daphne. She grins at me. “How would you say it? You need to have your wits about you tonight?”
“Indeed,” I agree.
My children smile at me.
So do both of Bea’s brothers.
Still doesn’t count on Ryker’s behalf though.
This isn’t yet an actual happy smile.
It’s ayou’re in troublesmile.
And I daresay he’s right.
On many, many counts.
21
NEVER TRUST A TEENAGER
Bea
The food is almost a success.
Hudson and Ryker are moaning over the risotto, as usual, though they’re putting more of a show into it like they’re trying to make Simon uncomfortable.
Daphne eats almost as much as I’d expect one of Simon’s boys to eat, claiming it was a long day and she didn’t have enough food for lunch. She splits her time at work between checking in with the outdoor crews and making phone calls to raise more money for the nonprofit, and today was an outside-all-day kind of day.
Those always make her hungrier.
Simon’s offering praise between every bite and making me blush.
He’s as far as he can get from me at the table. I’m the last seat on one end, he’s the last seat at the other end, with Tank at the head by him and Pinky across from me.
Daphne and my brothers conspired on the seating arrangement, even if they’re claiming innocence.
And Simon’s children—both of them—have hardly touched their plates.
