"Bring a lot of dates out here back in the day?" I ask before I can stop myself.
He chuckles. "No." He juts his chin toward the water. "I come out here to practice walking through unknown terrain with horses. The creek provides an excellent opportunity to work on trust and communication between horse and rider."
"Oh." I twitch my nose, willing my face not to turn red. When I feel the heat rush into my cheeks anyway, I turn my face away and hurry to dismount.
Once I'm on solid ground, Jovi hands me the blanket in a tradeoff for Bear's reins. Then he grabs Remmi's horse as well, saddlebags slung over his shoulders while he walks the horses to the water to offer them a drink before tying them to a nearby tree, allowing them room to graze but without accidently getting tangled in their reins.
Forcing my focus away from him, I turn to Gavin, who's busy sitting crouched in the grass, keen eyes watching a trail of ants as they move in and out of a giant mound moving particles of some sort.
"Want to help me pick a good place to spread out our blanket?" I ask, noting that Remmi is already scouting photo backdrops, fingers shaped in a square in front of her eyes as she peers around our surroundings.
"Here," he says, pointing at the spot he's squatting in.
"Maybe we should give the ants a little more room," I tell him. "How about a little closer to the water?"
He stands up in a rush, hurrying over to where the ground is sandier, a little more even. "I like this spot," he says, his little finger directed at an area nestled between several large rocks.
"I like it too." I smile, heading over to spread out our blanket.
"Perfect," Jovi says, coming up behind me, taking in the setting over my shoulder. He's standing so close, I can feel his warmth at my back. Can scent the lemongrass of his shower soap. My brain demands I take a step forward, but my body refuses. And realizing that, makes the same heat from before rush through my cheeks all over again.
Clearing my throat, I say, "So, what did you bring us for lunch?" Despite the lack of kitchen in his little place, he refused to let me pack our picnic, insisting it was his idea and therefor his to provide. He took off shortly after that, and when he returned, summoned us all to the barn. We've been together ever since. So, I've gathered our meal is some sort of takeout.
Jovi grins, lowering himself to the blanket before calling over the kids. "You want apple or pear?" he asks them both, holding up two different juice boxes. Remmi chooses apple. Gavin pear.
Without warning, Jovi tosses a pear one up at me. I catch it before it can hit me square in the chest.
"I don't get a choice?" I ask, eyeing the small carton or organic juice.
"You hate apple juice," he says, without looking at me, too focused on unpacking lunch. When he’s finished, a small pile of paper wrapped bundles and glass containers sit in a heap on his lap.
"How do you know I hate apple juice?" It's true. I do. Have ever since I had the flu when I was twelve and apple juice was the only thing I could consume without feeling sicker. Once I was better, I never wanted to sip that stuff again.
"Because I've seen your face the last seven years, every time you pour it for one of the kids," he says, letting out a quiet laugh. Then he pats the blanket beside him. "Now get your ass down here so we can eat."
JOVI
For a moment, I think she'll refuse. That she'll march around the blanket and sit between Remmi and Gavin as far away from me as possible. Then, she surprises us both and lowers herself to sit right beside me. Trying not to grin, and even harder not to inhale too deeply when I catch a whiff of her vanilla and ginger shampoo, I start handing out sandwiches.
"Cream cheese and cucumber," I say, holding the first one out to Gavin. "No crust." He claps his hands eagerly before accepting the food.
"What did you make for me?" Remmi asks, looking excited now.
I hold out the wrapped meal, "Rolled flatbread with sharp cheddar and sliced apples." And that somehowwasn'tthe weirdest sandwich I made today. "Your favorite, of course." I hand it over with a wink as she beams back at me.
"You're the best, Uncle Jovi."
"For you? Always." I flash her a broad smile before turning toward Liz.
Her expression is guarded, like she's working overtime to hide her thoughts from me. The fact she's got her head tilted enough to cover one eye with her wavy black hair, only confirms this. "You don't want to know what I packed for you?" I ask her.
"I'm scared to find out," she admits. And despite the underlying sneer in her voice, I don't miss the vulnerability in it.
I reach for her hand, turning it over to place her sandwich in it. I hold on the whole time as I say, "Whole grain pita filled with hummus, mixed greens, dates, carrots, broccoli, avocado and sunflower seeds."
Have I witnessed her make this particular concoction before? No. But I've seen her throw together enough wraps and sandwiches and salads to note she always focuses on four key things. A variation of textures, colors, sweet and savory and hummus. There's always fucking hummus.
The way her expression is caught somewhere between surprised and touched, tells me I landed this one as well as the others.
