“I’m almost done,” Chase reported on his way back to the dining area.
I nodded in acknowledgment, my gaze locked on his dad. “How about you?”
“Meetings. Lots of meetings.”
“No axes?”
He cocked his head in confusion, then barked a laugh. “I wish I’d thought of bringing an axe to my meetings, but no…sorry.”
“You should be. You’re singlehandedly killing the lumberjack mystique for me,” I snarked.
“Dad’s the boss at the mill,” Ivy said from the stove. “He doesn’t climb trees anymore, but he used to. We have some funny pictures of him in his old gear. I can show you after dinner.”
Cooper shook his head. “I don’t think Silas is interested in old photographs.”
“You’d be wrong there,” I assured him, sneaking in a sly grin while his daughter’s back was to us. “I’m very interested.”
His badass “dad” glare didn’t work on me this time. I chuckled merrily and sipped my lemonade until Chase stormed into the kitchen, scooped up his football, and all but shoved me outside.
I tossed the ball with Chase while Cooper helped Ivy finish dinner prep. Chase was a likable albeit super chatty kid. Hebounced from topic to topic like a renegade pinball. I initially thought he was excited to spend time with a pro athlete, but after ten minutes of nonstop questions and non sequiturs with more twists and turns than a roller coaster, I got the impression that this was just Chase.
Things I learned: He had two besties, Adam and Rhys. Adam lived in Fallbrook and Rhys was Uncle Reg’s son here in Wood Hollow. Did I know that Uncle Reg was his dad’s best friend? Rhys was super funny and he liked to play video games, but Chase had talked him into trying flag football, a decision he sort of regretted ’cause Rhys could throw the ball way farther than Chase could.
“I think he has an unfair advantage,” Chase groused, suddenly sounding much older than nine.
“How so?” I asked, launching the ball in a high arc I hoped would give him a chance to track and position himself to catch it.
And he did. Chase beamed a bright, toothy grin and threw a short ball that had me scrambling.
“He lives here and he gets to play football every day if he wants. Even at recess. The kids at my school only want to play football during the regular season. Or they want to play soccer. I’m pretty good at soccer. Not great, though. You have to run a lot.”
He wanted to know if I liked running, raisins, and if I had a dog.
Yes to running, indifferent to raisins, and sadly…
“No dog. I’m not home enough to take care of one,” I replied just as Cooper called us in for dinner.
We washed our hands, then joined Cooper and Ivy in the dining room.
Dinner was amazing. Truly amazing. The fish was perfectly prepared, the couscous had currants, mint, and pine nuts in it—freaking incredible. And the green beans were fantastic too.
I complimented the chef, who blushed profusely and admitted that it was one of her better meals.
“Thanks. I like cooking.” Ivy wiggled in her seat and gave a self-deprecating shrug that reminded me of her dad. “Fish is a little tricky for me. I overcooked it the last time I tried to make it.”
I stabbed a forkful of green beans. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
Chase made a face but wisely didn’t comment.
“It was pretty inemitable.”
“Inedible,” her dad corrected. “It happens to the best of us. Remember the time I burned spaghetti noodles?”
The kids chuckled.
“That was funny. The house smelled like burnt rubber,” Chase reported.
“We had to throw out the pot, and it was the only one we had. You’re a much better cook now, Dad.” Ivy smiled at her father, patting his hand fondly. It was easy to see she adored him.
