Hendrix kept his smile contained. “Way to drive a hard bargain.” Crouching down, he offered his hand to Ryder. “If you ever think I’m out of line, let me know.”
Very seriously, Ryder took his hand and shook it. “Deal.”
Once Hendrix headed to the bathroom, Ryder looked at her. “I like him a lot, too.”
“Good.” Floating a little, because this relationship stuff wasn’t half bad, Joey set out plates, then poured a milk for Ryder, more coffee for her and Hendrix.
“You trust him, too, huh?”
That innocent question stalled her. “Yes.” Giving Ryder her full attention, she asked, “Do you?”
“Yeah. Mr. Becker – I meanHendrix– is the best.”
Strolling back in, Hendrix said, “Thanks for the endorsement.” He offered Ryder a fist bump, which thrilled her son.
So. Many. Changes.
Biting back a smile, Joey said, “Take a seat. We’ll eat while the pancakes are still warm.”
Hendrix sat beside Ryder and Joey used the outside chair on the other side of the counter. Before having a large man as a guest, the tiny cabin had felt plenty big enough. Now, she realized just how little room they had. Not that she’d change a thing. It was far too entertaining watching Ryder watch Hendrix.
When Hendrix put a napkin in his lap, Ryder did the same.
Hendrix used his fork to cut a reasonably sized bite...and Ryder paused with an entire pancake hanging from his fork, the syrup, thankfully, dripping more into the plate than on the counter. Trying to copy Hendrix, he struggled to get a bite cut just right, then got it into his mouth with a little bit of stuffing.
As if it was routine for him, Hendrix said, “It takes a little practice.” He put his hand over Ryder’s and helped guide him into using the side of the fork for cutting.
Wow. She forgot her own food, forgot her problems, forgot...everything. Hendrix wasn’t the Grinch. No, it was her. She knew because her heart was growing ten times. It got so big that she felt her eyes sting and her nose tingle. No, no, and no. She would not get emotional, but even as she made that vow her throat tightened. Ducking her face, she sipped her coffee, hoping to have a moment to regroup.
Suddenly Hendrix’s hand closed over hers. Funny, because it was sticky with syrup, which could likely be blamed on how he’d helped Ryder. By the time they finished breakfast, Ryder would have syrup on his ear lobes.
She snickered, but because she’d been on the verge of being weepy, the sound came out all wrong.
“Mom?”
That did it. The sickly snicker turned into a laugh, and then she couldn’t stop laughing. She tried to contain herself, she really did.
Hendrix elbowed Ryder and said, “Don’t worry, bub. It’s just one of those things women do.”
Unconvinced, Ryder whispered, “She’s sort of cry-laughing.”
“Yup. Good feelings hit people differently. She’s glad we’re pals, that’s all.”
“She sort of sounds like a donkey, huh?”
Joey tried to look affronted, but instead she just laughed more.
Hendrix spoke louder to be sure she’d hear him. “Give her a hug. Mom’s love hugs from kids with sticky fingers and faces and –”
Quickly rising from her seat, Joey held up a hand. “No, no, I’m fine. We’ll clean up all the sticky stuff before doling out hugs.”
In challenge, Hendrix slowly rose from his seat. “Now Joey, you know you want those hugs.” He held up his own sticky fingers.
Catching on, Ryder held out his hands, too. “Yeah, Mom. Sticky hugs are the best.”
Playfully shrieking, she tried to dart past them, but seriously, there wasn’t much room to maneuver in the tiny space. Hendrix caught her first, holding her face with his one sticky hand, he kissed her mouth. This time Ryder didn’t mind. He was too busy taking part in the fun.
By the time the two of them had wound down, they were all on the futon, her draped over Hendrix’s lap, Ryder draped over hers, and they were all a syrupy mess.
