“JJ took the girls over to the park.”
The forks I’ve just scooped out of the drawer clatter back into their spot. “JJ’s home?”
Mid-slice, Hope peers at me over her shoulder. “Yeah, he got home around one and took us out for lunch.”
“Oh.” Swallowing, I go back to collecting utensils.
The rest of the team had plans to go to Ground Zero. When he told me he didn’t need a ride, I assumed he was joining them. I should have known better, though. Avery is always JJ’s first priority. As she should be.
Hope sets the knife on the white marble counter and turns to face me completely. “How was today?”
“Fine.”
“JJ mentioned that a goalie he really hated growing up was there.”
Grunting, I head for the cabinet and pull down plates. “I don’t know why he won’t drop it. Dirk will be gone by next week.”
“My cousin doesn’t know how to drop things when they involve people he cares about,” Hope says evenly.
With my back to her, I roll my eyes. “If you’re talking about me, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m his coach and nothing more.”
“Right, but you used to be super close. I remember when?—”
The front door slams and a tiny voice screams, “It’snota penis!”
Hope and I both startle, then rush into the foyer.
“It is a penis, and I want one.” Gracie, who has her mother’s red hair and eyes the color of whiskey, like so many other family members, stomps her little cowgirl boot against the hardwoods, face red and hands fisted at her hips like she’s ready to throw down.
Avery has appeared too, her arms crossed like she couldn’t be bothered by the tantrum her cousin is throwing.
JJ comes barreling through the door with the younger girls, looking all sorts of flustered. Two-year-old Mari is gripping his finger, her expression easy, like she’s unaware of the fight that’s about to occur, but it’s the eight-month-old Emmy Lou who catches my eye. Because the infant is strapped to JJ’s damn chest. Like he’s a super uncle or something.
God, why is that so hot? I don’t think I even want kids. Not after growing up surrounded by so many. But JJ Hanson wearing a baby is doing things to me. Things that he of all people should not have the ability to do.
He’s married. He’s married. He’s married.
With a dip of my chin, I avert my attention from his strong baby-wearing chest and focus on the two angry four-year-olds. “What is happening?”
“I want a penis,” Gracie shouts.
“I’ve got a penis,” another high-pitched voice yells from the kitchen. In a flash, Declan has joined the fray, jutting his hips wildly and waggling his pelvis in our direction. “I can even make it rain in here.”
Before the words have even registered—and before the little boy has a chance to drop his pants—Finn is there, snatching him by the arms and tossing him over his shoulder.
Avery glares at her father, her blue eyes blazing. “This is really where you want to live?”
I swear that most of the words that come out of her mouth align perfectly with my thoughts. I love that little girl something fierce.
JJ sighs.
“I want a penis that rains,” Gracie yells, her little eyes rimming red. “Momma, why can’t I have a raining penis?”
“What is she talking about?” Hope growls, her voice low and her glare fixed on JJ.
Ha. Five minutes ago, she was singing his praises.
“Peonies, Gracie. You want a peony.” JJ lifts Emmy Lou out of the baby-wearing contraption and sets the little chunk on the floor.
