“Want me to take her?” Sabrina asked, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She had finished arranging fresh flowers in two vases—one for Fern and another for Margot. “You can take a break. Try some of that sangria Sassy made. It’s actually pretty good.”
“Hey,” Sassy said in mock-offense. “I make things.”
Ava chuckled as she transferred Gracie into Sabrina’s arms. She draped her baby blanket around her. “The last thing I saw you make was boxed mac-and-cheese.”
Bly picked up the conversation. “It burned.”
Sherry shook her head. “How do you burn boxed mac-and-cheese, Sassy? The instructions are right there in front of you.”
“I got distracted,” Sassy pointed out.
“By the packet of cheese,” Ava remembered, “which you consumed while the pasta burned.” She wrapped Sassy in a sidelong hug to soften the impact of her teasing. “Though I will say, I think you did the whole thing just to make me laugh.”
Sassy mimed zipping the corner of her mouth. At the time, Ava had been enduring the loss of a loved one. Sassy had known she couldn’t make her a gourmet meal. Hence, the mac-and-cheese incident. “We should take this pitcher of sangria out to the boys.”
“Excellent idea,” Ava agreed, pouring herself a glass. She poured one for Sassy, too. “Let’s see if their glasses are empty.”
They carried the drinks out to the porch where the grill smoked and smelled deliciously of pork rub and smoked baby back ribs. Sassy’s mouth watered as she set the sangria pitcher in the center of the outdoor table. “Where is everyone?”
Ava took her glass to the porch railing. “Oh. Oh, my.”
Sassy joined her. Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “There’s something you don’t see every day.”
The men had abandoned the sacred duty of manning the grill to engage in what looked like an intense game of Shirts and Skins with her uncles and Noah in shirts and the other men—Nick, Ryan, Jacob and Chay—without. It had rained again recently, not enough to cause the river to spill its bank again and wreak more havoc. But enough to muddy the yard. They were each coated with enough muck for Sassy to assume they had decided against touch football but had opted for the real deal.
Ava beamed when Chay spotted her on the porch and extended a wave. She waved back, sipping her sangria. “My money’s on one of the uncles breaking a rib.”
“Mine’s on burnt ribs,” Sassy chimed, watching Nick take a tackle into a mud puddle like a champ. She was going to have to help him wash that out of his hair. Dual showers were another benefit of coupledom she was enjoying immensely. Just thinking about the both of them sliding up against each other under the steaming hot spray thrilled her. “Let’s go, Team Skins!”
Richie planted his hands on his knees, winded. “Betrayed by my own daughter.”
“I don’t know, Sassy.” Nick tossed the football into the air and caught it. “Your old man hits like a sack of bricks.”
“Old man,” Richie muttered. On the next play, he targeted Nick, tackling him into a particularly gooey patch of earth.
“Oof,” Ava said, wrinkling her nose. “Bly won’t let either of them inside.”
Sassy cackled as her father and partner struggled to stand in the slip-and-slide ooze. They toppled, going down in the mud once more. “You men need help?”
“They’re beating us,” Ryan complained, slicked with sweat and breathing heavy. He put his hands on his head. “Twenty-four to seven.”
Nick beckoned her. “Sassy. We need you.”
She debated, examining the messy yard, the messy men, and the messy dog prancing around them like it was the best day of his canine life. Riot barked, as if inviting her into the fray. She sighed and handed her favorite cousin her sangria glass. “Ava… I’m going in.”
“Oh, boy,” Ava said with a fond shake of her head.
Sassy stripped off her t-shirt, revealing the sports bra underneath. As she came down the porch steps, Chay, Jacob and Nick applauded while Ryan called out, “Secret weapon!”
“This gives you kids five,” her uncle Sam said, spinning the football between his hands, “but we’ll still kick your butts.” He high-fived his brothers.
“Bring it on,” Sassy invited. She clasped Nick’s outstretched hand and tugged him out of the mud.
His front buffered hers as he came to his feet and she steadied him with her arms around his middle. Mud transferred from him to her, but she didn’t give a hoot. He was dirty and sweaty, mud caked over half his face, and his tawny lion eyes shined at her under a halo of tousled dark hair. “Dad, you’re going to want to close your eyes now,” she told Richie. Then she linked her arms around Nick’s neck and pulled his mouth down to hers.
Her cousins made gagging sounds as Nick responded readily, his arms twining around her waist and pressing her against him until mud and urgency welded them together. She could never get enough of this.
Shewould neverget enough of this. Him. What they’d made and would continue to make as their future spread out before them like a banquet.
