No one spoke of pack politics after that. They talked summer Olympics and tax reforms. When Little J left to meet up with his friends and the men started talking politics over cigars and whiskey, I cleared the table. Evelyn and Isobel tried to help, but I told them to go sit down, that I was happy to move after all the food I’dingested.
“Honey, help Ness,” Isobel told her son as she went to take a seat on thesofa.
August pushed off one the wooden beams and reluctantly made his way to thekitchen.
“I don’t need your help,” I said, slotting plates into thedishwasher.
But I got itanyway.
We didn’t talk as we cleaned up the kitchen, didn’t even look at eachother.
At some point, he asked, “Why do you look like you cried allnight?”
I licked my lips. There was no point in denying something that was so blatantly visible. “Because Idid.”
“Why?”
“A couple days ago, you send me a harsh email, and now you’re concerned about why Icried?”
He frowned. “Harshemail?”
“Not to mix business with pleasure. For your information, I didn’t ask Liam to come over, just like I didn’t ask him to make you leave Boulder, just like I’m notdatingLiam, okay? So there was nothing personal or remotely pleasurable about his visit.” I poured in the dishwasher powder, then smacked the door shut. “Besides, you must’ve misunderstood him, because apparently he didn’t ask you to leave. He askedifyou’d beleaving.”
Augustgrunted.
“Can you stop grunting all the time? Seriously, you’re twenty-seven. Even Little J doesn’t grunt as much as youdo.”
He blinked at me, and then he crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. “Any other compliments you want to lob myway?”
“I’m sure I can think of more if you give me a fewminutes.”
He had the audacity to smirk, which just infuriated me because he was obviously not taking our conversation seriously. “You get very flushed when you’reangry.”
“And that’sfunny?”
“When you were a kid, you’d get beet-red when things didn’t go yourway.”
“Still don’t see why that’s funny.” I washed my hands, then dried them on the kitchen towel and started covering theleftovers.
August pressed off the counter and took the Saran-wrapped dishes to the fridge. “Want to tell me why you lied about not liking zucchini bread and cinnamon rolls and all that otherstuff?”
“Because I don’t like people assuming they have me all figuredout.”
“Since when am Ipeople?” There was a twinge of hurt in histone.
I looked up from the platter topped with scraps of smoked salmon. “You think you know me because I get red when I’m angry, or because I still eat all that stuff I pretended not to like, but I’m not that little girl you ferried around in your truck and brought to the ice cream parlor for a scoop,okay?”
His frown deepened, brought out lines on other places of hisface.
“You’re ten years older than me. You’ll always be ten years older. That’s never going to change, but every time you call me Dimples, I feel like I’m six. I don’t think you mean to make me feel like a kid, but that’s the way it comes out. I’m tired of people thinking I’m childish. Orexpendable.”
“Expendable?” August’s eyes were the vivid green of the leaves dotting the tree outside the kitchen window. “When did I make you feelexpendable?”
“That wasn’t—You didn’t.” I dragged my damp hands through my hair. “I’m really beat, August.” I tried to pass by him, but he held out his arm to bar mypath.
“Who made you feelexpendable?”
“No one. I don’t know even know why I saidthat.”
