Dallas made another sound that was something between a cough and a laugh. “How old were you?”
“How old was I what?”
“When you watched it all the time?”
I smiled at the dishes. “Twenty-nine?”
He laughed as he set the last plate on the drying rack at his side, his body turning in my direction as he raised his eyebrows, giving me this little smirk. “You remind me more of Princess Peach.”
I looked down at my shorts and tank top, and caught the ends of my multicolored brown hair courtesy of careful instruction to Ginny. “Because of my beautiful pink gown and blonde hair?”
Dallas’s mouth went flat. “She’s surrounded by men, but she’s still herself, and she’s got her shit together on Mario Kart.”
I couldn’t help but smile, taking in the sloping bone structure of his face and the way his mouth was shaped at a slant and said, “I always did think I should have been born a princess, Mr. Clean.”
The choke that came out of him made me laugh.
“Mr. Clean?” he eventually got out, all choppy and broken.
Peeking at him, I shrugged and tipped my chin toward his head.
“I have hair.”
I squinted at him and hummed, trying so hard not to laugh. “Uh-huh.”
“I shave it every two weeks,” he tried explaining.
“Okay,” I coughed out, my cheeks hurting from the effort not to laugh at how bent out of shape he was getting.
“It all grows in evenly—are you laughing at me?”
Chapter Fourteen
“Lou, you wanna go with me and see if Miss Pearl and Mr. Dallas want to come eat dinner with us?” I asked.
His hands paused on the remote in his hands as he seemed to mull over my proposal. “Mr. Dallas?”
“Yes.” Josh was over at his friend Kline’s house, so it was just the two of us. “Since he helped us with the backyard earlier,” I explained.
While I’d been in the middle of a shower, I came up with the idea of inviting him over for dinner as a thank-you for helping us clean up the yard hours ago. It was the least I could do. I knew he had leftovers, but that way they would last longer. He’d shown up at ten o’clock on the dot and stuck around for the next two hours, going above and beyond the neighborly and friendly call of duty.
Problem was, I didn’t want to make him feel weird. So I figured, why not invite his nana too? The nana I still didn’t understand he had.
With more grace than I figured the average five-year-old was capable of, Louie nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay, come on.” I gestured toward the door, and Mac, who was lying on the couch besides my kid, sat up, expectantly thinking he was going to get another walk. “I’m making your favorite at least, buster.”
“Chicken nuggets?” he gushed.
I blinked at him. “Spaghetti and meatballs.”
His shoulders slumped forward. “Oh. Yeah. I like that too.”
I sighed. “Let’s go.”
He followed me, pausing his game as he got to his feet. He’d dressed himself this morning and had on a bright green T-shirt with a pizza on it and red and black striped pajama pants. I thought about telling him to change, but who cared? It was only dinner.
Louie and I crossed the street, holding each other’s hands. I reached down and pinched him on the butt as we walked up the path to Dallas’s house, and halfway up the steps to the porch, the little turd smacked me on the butt. We were bickering as I knocked on the door and stood back, waiting. I wasn’t even sure if he was home or not. I was sticking my tongue out at Louie as the lock was turned.
