“You ever want to drop off more of that risotto, we won’t have you arrested,” Butch adds.
Daphne snickers.
Honestly?
I do a little too. “Appreciate that kind sentiment.”
He grins.
And then everyone’s in the SUV, and they’re pulling away from the farm.
And I’m sighing a sigh so deep, I feel it in my toes.
“I totally get why my parents hired nannies now,” Daphne says.
“What the hell was that?” Ryker’s joined us, clearly completely oblivious to the fact that Simon’s kids just tried to steal one of his dogs.
“You remember the guinea pig?” I ask him.
He stares at me.
Then looks at Digger.
Then looks at the dust cloud kicked up from the departing SUV.
“Son of a bitch,” he mutters.
Daph lifts a brow at us.
I shake my head. “Let’s go do some dishes. And I need to pack up some of that strawberry shortcake.”
Daphne smirks.
Ryker sighs.
I ignore them both and head for the house.
A summer fling is supposed to be more sex and less talking.
But we’ll get there.
Hopefully.
22
OF ALL THE PEOPLE TO COME OUT OF MY MOUTH, WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE MY FATHER?
Simon
If,when I die, I become a star, I hope I have the decency to sparkle less brightly on nights when my descendants feel as though they are the world’s biggest fuckup.
But these stars—these stars in the sky have the utter audacity to twinkle merrily. Even a lack of my glasses causing the stars to be blurry doesn’t hide the fact that they’re happily shining away without a care in the world.
Clearly my ancestors.
It tracks with how my parents would twinkle in the sky.
They’d be overjoyed at my failures and disappointments.
