Suddenly, a loud whistle sounded from behind.
Emmitt looked over his shoulder to see Maverick standing there in a pair of ice skates, a wide grin on his face. “Time for this party to officially start,” he crowed. “And first things first,” he added as the music changed from one song to the next. He pointed right at Sloane from across the rink. “Sloane, may I have this dance?”
Groans and laughter broke out over the group.
Ty and Memphis skated by. “Go ahead and do it,” Ty hollered. “He won’t bite.”
“Hey,” Maverick said, shooting Ty a scowl. “Don’t make any promises.”
Sloane set a questioning glance on Emmitt. “Well?”
Emmitt moved in to whisper in her ear. “Is this a pity dance or are you going to dump me for him?”
She laughed. “I am definitely going to dump you for him.” She turned then, placed a kiss to his cheek, and then lifted her hand in the air. “I am ready, Maverick. Show me what you have got.”
Chapter 12
Sunday dinner. How long had it been since Sloane sat down to a family Sunday dinner? She did not even know how long. Yet here she was, sitting amidst some of the kindest people she’d known, almost feeling like one of them.
“You’ll have to schedule a massage while you’re here,” Ty said as she held the salad bowl out to her son, Lucas.
Lucas pinched a serving of salad with the tongs, hoisted it over to his plate, and then dropped the greens in one quick release. “Yeah, everyone says my mom is the best.”
“Sheis,” Andie attested. “That’s why I hired her.”
“I will definitely take you up on that,” Sloane said, taking the platter Emmitt held out for her. Inwardly, she was thinking about what Andie had said—she’d been the one to hire Ty. Twice now, to prove she was doing her job, Sloane had casually brought up the topic of running an inn, mentioning how difficult the paperwork and tax stuff might be. Once with Emmitt, and a second time with Maverick. Neither of them flinched. Emmitt simply said they’d had the same tax guy for years, which had, thankfully, spared them the trouble of dealing with it when they arrived.
Maverick said a similar thing, but from a glad-it’s-not-my-problem type of attitude. Speaking of Maverick, he was next to get the platter. She turned to her left in time to catch a sly wink aimed right at her.
“Did you know that I took a semester of French in high school?”
“Oh?” Sloane said with a grin. She steadied the platter for him.
“Merci beaucoup,” he said, proving he still knew how to say thank you so much.
“Je t'en prie.”
Maverick slid a few baby potatoes onto his plate then leaned into Sloane. “Does that mean you like me in French?”
She giggled. “It means, you are welcome.”
“Dang.” Maverick snapped his fingers “I can’t catch a break.”
Sloane couldn’t help but giggle some more. Maverick might have acted like a scoundrel in his past—and according to Emmitt, he had—but she found him to be quite endearing. And entertaining too.
“Hey, Lucas,” Memphis said, excitement on his tone. “Why don’t you tell everyone how you did on your spelling test Friday.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Emmitt said. “We need an update. Itwasa group effort, after all.”
“How is that?” Sloane couldn’t help but ask.
“It’s a great story, actually,” Ty said. “On Monday night while we were making those snowflake desserts—have you ever had those?”
“They’ve got powder sugar all over them,” Lucas explained.
“Powdered,” Maverick inserted.
Lucas lifted a finger. “Oh, yeah, powdered.”
