“That cheese is too expensive for you to be eating it out of the tub,” Weaver said as he came to a stop beside me.
“What’s it for?” I wondered.
“I don’t know. Some old lady gave it to me because I got her power restored,” he said. “I’ve been saving it for when I make something. But I don’t cook all that often.”
“Mascarpone is generally used in desserts,” Boone, with his fancy pants self, drawled.
All three of us looked at him.
“You would know with your fancy education and your fancy cars and your fancy bikes and your fancy stupid face,” Nettie grumbled.
I couldn’t stop my lips from twitching at her words.
Yeah, they definitely slept together.
Shit.
Boone said something to Weaver that pulled him from my side, and I hip-checked my sister. “Please tell me y’all used protection.”
Silence.
“Swear to Christ, Nettie,” I hissed under my breath. “Y’all are full-grown adults. You know what the end result is when you sleep with him without protection.”
“I can’t help it,” she whined.
“I’m sure you can, you just don’t want to,” I corrected her. “You’re a professional soccer player, Nettie. You can’t just get pregnant mid-season.”
Nettie muttered something dark under her breath.
I took another scoop of the fancy cheese and sucked it off the spoon as I finished frying up some eggs.
“What kind of eggs do you like, hubby?” I asked Weaver.
Weaver stopped mid-conversation and said, “Sunny side up. Runny white.”
“Gross,” I said but got to work on his eggs.
Once I’d plated up everyone’s, we sat at the table and ate, talking about mundane things instead of Audrey and last night and the elephant that was Boone and Nettie.
Nettie and Boone were cordial to each other—mostly—and it was a pretty pleasant meal until Weaver’s phone rang.
“That’s work,” Weaver said as he stood up to get to his phone.
I started cleaning up as fast as I could, knowing that we’d be leaving shortly.
“Boone,” I said. “Can you take us back to my place?”
“Sure.” Boone looked like he’d rather run his front teeth over a nail file.
Which was saying something because he hated nail files.
And I only knew that because Nettie knew that, and made it her life’s mission to do things that bothered Boone Windingham.
Hell, to this day, she still carried an emery board with her everywhere she went just in case she saw him and needed to use it.
I’d just put up the last dish when Weaver came out of the back room and said, “I have to go to work.”
I headed to the laundry room and grabbed my wet clothes out of the washer, ignoring the way that smooth metal surface made excitement race through my veins.
