The games stop, and the guys descend on the bag like bears at a campground.
“Knew I liked coming up here for a reason,” Tyler says, grabbing a sandwich.
“Because we’re a better team and you want our awesomeness to rub off on you,” Miller says.
Tyler scoffs. “I see you’re still practicing for a career change as a comedian.”
Mabel tips her head toward the sliding glass door. “I’m going to leave you to your lawn games.”
Lake’s ears must perk up from the yard, since he whips his gaze to us. “The Lawn Club. That’s our new name.”
“That’s a terrible name,” I say, cringing.
“It is,” Lake says. “That’s why we’re going to use it. It’s ironic.”
“Not sure that’s irony,” Riggs says. “Irony is…”
I leave them to their discussion of irony as they devour cheesy sandwiches. Like there’s an invisible force pulling me, I follow Mabel and Charlotte inside, stopping in the kitchen. “Thanks again,” I say to Mabel as she leans a hip against the island. Damn, she looks good here in my home, all casual and comfortable.
“No problem.”
“Especially for the sandwiches. That was really thoughtful,” I add, leaning against the other side of the counter, maybe needing a barrier between us so I don’t run a hand down her arm, absently touch her hair, or reach for her hand.
“It was Charlotte’s idea, so credit where credit’s due.”
“I had a sandwich when she arrived,” Charlotte says matter-of-factly, patting her belly. “They’re really good.” To Mabel, she adds, “I’m kind of a grilled cheese expert. My grandma made them. It was her specialty, and I learned it from her, but I think you did a really good job too.”
Mabel smiles warmly. “High praise, and I will take it.”
Something about the way they interact, like they’re friends already, does funny things to my heart.
Charlotte beams, then turns to me, whip-fast, like she’s just remembered something. “Dad, the rescue emailed about the volunteer options, and they listed a bunch of things that we could do.”
Mabel tilts her head, looking right at Charlotte. “Does that include fostering?”
Charlotte taps her chin. “I think it did, actually.”
From my vantage point, I watch them volleying, which seems kind of…rehearsed.
“I have a friend who does that,” Mabel begins. “I was thinking about what your dad said about his schedule and your schedule, and I know it’d be hard for you guys to have a dog, but fostering is a great way to help animals in need. Even if you can just foster for a weekend here and there, or be a temporary foster. Rescues need that all the time.”
Charlotte’s eyes widen as she turns to me. “Dad, that actually sounds perfect, doesn’t it?”
Mabel smothers a smile. And I’ve got a feeling. I’ve got a damn good feeling that they’ve plotted this. I wouldn’t put it past either one of them. Also, I kind of love that they’re in on something together.
“Works for me,” I reply.
Charlotte rushes to me, wraps her arms around my chest. “You’re the best, Dad.”
I hold her close. “I have the world’s best daughter.”
When we break the hug, Charlotte high-fives Mabel. They both look pleased. And I like making that happen for them.
I walk them to the front door, with Charlotte heading to the garage and Mabel to her car. But I need to catch up with her on some bakery business.
“Got a sec? I wanted to touch base on some of the holiday delivery plans,” I say. I arranged for Mariah’s son, Carson, to deliver some cookies and other holiday items for us in the afternoon when he’s home from school.
“Definitely,” she says, and we chat about the details for a few minutes.
