“Yeah, the trampoline place. I loved it there. When can we go back?”
“We’ll ask your daddy when he gets home.”
The rumble of a motorcycle carries to us, and the dogs start barking, running to the picket fence that lines the road.
Cody comes over the rise, and the dogs chase him all the way along the fence line until he turns into the long gravel driveway.
I stop the tire, and Tucker climbs out and runs over to him. I follow behind.
Cody scoops him up and tosses him in the air.
“He’s getting so big, you won’t be able to do that for much longer,” I say with a smile and kiss my husband.
He pulls me flush against him with Tucker in his arms. “How’s my girl?”
I stroke a hand over my rounding belly. “Tired and hungry.”
He sets Tucker down, then turns and pulls a blue bakery box from his saddlebag. “That reminds me. I stopped at Fiona’s shop. She sent cupcakes.”
My face lights up, and I hold my hands out. “Gimmee, gimmee.”
He chuckles. “Gotta keep my pregnant wife fed. What do sweet cravings mean? A boy, right?”
“Yes, but I craved nachos last week, so…”
“We’re having twins?”
“Bite your tongue.” I open the box and drag my finger through the icing. Before I can pop it in my mouth, he grabs my hand and licks my finger clean. “Hey! No fair. These are for me.”
He lifts a brow. “You’re not going to share? Not even with Tucker?”
I roll my eyes. “I suppose. Come on. Dinner is on the stove.”
The dogs jump around us.
“Zeus, Apollo, Artemis… come,” Cody says, snapping his fingers. The three young German Shepards trot after us to the kitchen door. They were abandoned puppies, all from the same litter, born on the side of the road last year. I couldn’t say no.
“Wash up,” I say.
“Something smells good,” Cody replies, moving to the kitchen sink and lathering his hands.
“It’s salsa pork chops. I got the recipe off TikTok.”
He starts laughing.
“It might be good. It smells good, so…”
“I’ll give it a shot.” He dries his hands and lifts the lid. “Looks okay.”
“I made rice to go with it.”
He dishes a serving and leans against the sink, crossing his boots at the ankles. “Here goes nothin’.”
“Well?” I ask, watching him chew. He stares at me, like he’s afraid to hurt my feelings, then shakes his head and spits it out in the garbage can.
“Nope. Sorry. Another fail, TikTok.”
“Really?” I stick out my lower lip. “That’s depressing. It smelled so good.”
