“How does Ladybird feel about Ariel’s singing?” Mav asks.
“She loves it.” Maddie walks over to hug the dog. “She tries to sing with her.”
“This I gotta see.” Mav looks at Owen. “We can have a non-problematic undersea party. I’ll be Captain Jack Sparrow.”
“He’s not problematic?” My eyes narrow.
The door opens, and Heather stumbles into the living room holding a large box. “This was on the front step. I think it’s the calendars.”
“The calendars!” Haddy jumps to take the box, carrying it to the table, and we all crowd around to look. “Grab the box cutter.”
“Here.” Mav reaches between us and pulls the top open.
We all grab a glossy booklet and open it to the middle.
“Mr. June.” Mav holds it up. “Centerfold, baby. Check us out, Spanks!”
Spanky stands, wagging his tail with his tongue out.
Gavin is Mr. May, holding baby Lucy in his arm and Peepee in his hand.
“It came out so well,” Haddy sighs. “Ryan did such a great job.”
Owen is Mr. July, and I swallow the desert in my throat when I see his level gaze, brow lowered over shimmering blue eyes. A hint of a smile lifts his full lips, and a dusting of whiskers covers his square jaw, square chin…swoon.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt, Daddy?” Maddie frowns, turning the pages. “None of them are.”
“Okay… it’s time to start dinner.” Mav puts his copy under his arm. “Who’s up for Mexican street corn, black beans, and hot chicken?”
Five loud, enthusiasticMesanswer, but Owen holds up his hand. “Can we get one not hot chicken for Maddie?”
“Only for Maddie, the shirt police.” Mav gives her little head a scrub with his palm before heading to the kitchen.
“I’m not a police!” She waves his hand away, smoothing her hair.
“I’ll take these to the house and come right back.” Haddy picks up the box.
Gavin stands, shifting Lucy to his shoulder. “I gotta take this little lady home for a fresh diaper. Somebody laid a rotten egg.”
“Haddy can do it.” Mav pauses at the door. “Come have a beer with Owen and me.”
“Oh!” Haddy’s blue eyes widen. “Ahh… no.”
Gavin hesitates then quickly laughs. “It’ll only take a minute. She’s got this big ole box to carry.”
“Right—this box!” Haddy says it too loudly, and my spidey senses are on high alert.
“What’s going on?” I step closer to where my cousin is standing. “You’re acting weird.”
“I am not!”
“Oh, yeah, you are.” Mav hustles over to where she’s standing, flanking her other side. “What are you hiding?”
Haddy’s shoulders straighten, and she lifts her chin. “I’m not hiding anything, and I don’t appreciate this grilling.”
I’m about to call it off, assuming they’re going home for a quickie, and we’re being uncool.
But Mav points his finger. “You can’t change a poopy diaper!”
