Page 64 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“I eat plenty,” I protest.

“Not when you’re here,” Ellie calls back.

Lorna leans out of the tent as if she heard her name summoned by gossip. “Rex Morgan, if you don’t come in and let me feed you, I’m putting your picture on the wall with a sign that says WANTED: EATS LIKE A BIRD.”

Casper howls with laughter.

I put a hand to my heart. “That’s libel, ma’am.”

Lorna points at me. “It’s truth.”

I grin, tipping an invisible hat. “I’ll be in tomorrow, I promise.”

We move on, the laughter settling into my ribs in a way that feels warm.

And then, because he’s always hungry, Casper claps his hands together and announces, “Pizza.”

Cyrus groans. “It’s ten thirty.”

Casper points at him. “Your body doesn’t know time. It knows joy.”

Cyrus’s eyes flick to me. “You encouraging this?”

“Darlin’, I’m enabling it,” I say cheerfully.

So we head toward Pine Knot Pizza. Big windows, hand-painted sign, and the smell that hits you from half a block away—garlic, tomato, baked dough, and whatever magic Marco Bellini puts in his sauce that makes grown men weep.

Inside, it’s loud in the best way. Families packed into booths. A couple of bikers at a corner table, leather jackets hung on chair backs. Kids coloring on paper placemats. The place is humming with everyday life.

Marco himself appears from behind the counter.

He’s short, broad, and expressive as hell. His hands are already moving as if he’s conducting an orchestra.

“Casper! Cyrus!” he booms. “My twin terrors!”

Casper spreads his arms. “Marco!”

Marco pulls him in for a hug that looks half affection, half headlock. Then he grabs Cyrus too, kissing the top of his head, knowing Cyrus won’t fight him.

Cyrus accepts it with the resignation of a man who knows resistance is pointless.

Marco’s eyes snap to me, and his face lights up. “Rex!”

He strides over and grabs me by the shoulders. “You disappear, you come back, you disappear again… what are you, a ghost?”

I grin. “A hardworking American.”

Marco huffs. “Sit. I feed you.”

“There it is,” I say, pointing at Casper. “See? It’s a town-wide conspiracy.”

Marco waves us toward a booth with the authority of a man who rules his domain. “You sit. I bring you the good stuff. No arguing.”

Cyrus opens his mouth. Marco holds up a finger. “No.”

Cyrus closes his mouth.

Casper looks at me, delighted by this power dynamic. “I love him.”