She nods proudly. “My dad makes it every winter.”
“That’s so cool,” Josh says immediately. “We don’t have a backyard.” Then he swivels toward me. “Tuck, do you have a backyard skating rink too?”
“No, bud. Sorry.” I rake a hand through my hair, and that’s when I notice Stella watching me with narrowed eyes.
Oh.
Jesus.
“You still got that wart?” she asks bluntly.
I nearly swallow my tongue.
Across the room, Maria bites down on her bottom lip, clearly trying not to laugh, and I can’t help but feel relieved to see some color coming back into her face.
“Stella,” Maeve says in a patient, loving tone as she places her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and gently turns her around. “We told you. He has calluses. They get them from playing hockey.”
Or handling wood.
Maria must have the exact same thought at the exact same moment I do, because her eyes flick back to mine. A slow, wicked little grin spreads across her face. And just like that, the tension between us loosens as we share a quiet, knowing glance across the kitchen.
Stella plants her hands on her hips and blows out an exaggerated breath, her tiny shoulders rising and falling in exasperation. “That’s what?—”
“Who wants to play pinball?” I blurt out, cutting her off before whatever brutally honest explanation she’s about to give comes out of her mouth.
Josh jumps to his feet, Marbles now tucked carefully in his arms. “I do.”
“Me too,” little Grant pipes up, scrambling upright beside him.
Stella presses both hands dramatically to her chest like a tiny Disney princess who just heard her prince arrived. Honestly, I admire the kid. Tough as nails one-minute, full-blown princess the next. Not too many people can pull that off without looking ridiculous.
“I want to be Grant’s partner,” she declares with determination.
Of course she does.
Grant just shrugs, completely oblivious to the fact that if he’s now the object of her affection, his life is going to get very…interesting.
“Let’s go,” I say, clapping my hands once.
As the kids start toward the basement door, I glance back at Maria and raise a brow. In whispered words, I ask, “You want to head to the library?”
“No. I’ll have time to study after the boys go to bed.”
“Okay.”
We’re just about to head downstairs when the doorbell rings again.
I gesture with a nod. “You guys go ahead. I’ll get that.”
The kids stampede down the stairs in a burst of laughter and thundering footsteps while I make my way to the front door. When I pull it open, I find Jaxon and Rowyn standing on the porch. Rowyn has one hand braced on the small of her back and the other resting on her belly, slowly rubbing circles over the fabric of her sweater. Something about the sight warms me straight through.
“Is this kitten famous or something?” I ask with a grin. “Is there something I should know?”
Rowyn laughs and reaches out to squeeze my arm. “No. You just don’t seem like a cat guy, so we had to see it to believe it.”
I chuckle and step aside, waving them in.
“Plus,” she adds as they walk into the house, “I’ve been cooped up and needed to get out for a bit.”
