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“How did you know that stuff?” Waylon asked. “It was on the tip of your tongue like you’re some kind of genius or something.”

“She likes to google,” Rhys piped in.

Gretchen blushed a sweet shade of pink that set off the freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her straight nose.

“I do! I studied etymology on my own this summer, and now I’ve been concentrating on learning all the capitals of every country in the world. Like…what’s the capital of Estonia?” she quizzed, wrinkling her nose in that adorable way she had when she couldn’t wait to tell you the answer.

“I have no idea,” Waylon admitted.

“Tallinn. Two Ls, two Ns. It’s located on the Gulf of Finland.”

“Wow. I’m learning all kinds of new things.” Waylon pushed his plate aside and pointed at mine. “Do you know the etymology for chicken?”

“Yes! It comes from an Old English word, cicen. They say it’s an onomatopoeia. You know, a word that’s associated with a sound.” Gretchen grinned, loving the opportunity to share her newfound knowledge.

“You want to pee on what?” Rhys joked, holding his hand up for Gretchen to high five. “Give it up, sis.”

She rolled her eyes but smacked his hand good-naturedly. “You’re two days old.”

Rhys just waggled his brows. “What about the word football?”

Gretchen groaned on cue. “I don’t know. You use your foot to kick the ball. Next! I refuse to discuss football. It’s like the only thing you know how to talk about.”

“Not true. It’s just the only thing that matters right now. We have a game Friday. Are you coming?” Rhys asked Waylon.

“I heard something about that,” he hedged.

“Dude, you have to go. We’re playing Fallbrook, and we’re gonna crush them,” Rhys exclaimed confidently. “The whole town will be there!”

Gretchen nodded. “It’s true. You can sit with us if you want. Dad and I go with Cooper and Silas. Do you know them?”

“I work for Cooper,” he reminded her.

“Oh, yeah! He’s like our uncle. Dad and Coop grew up together, and they were super good football players. Right, Dad?”

I felt my cheeks heat for no reason whatsoever.

Or maybe it was because Waylon was staring at me, and that look was lascivious.

If we weren’t careful, people were going to talk. Hell, they were talking right now. I could feel curiosity come at us in waves.

They wanted to know how Police Chief La Rue and his kids were acquainted with the Mill Depot lumber man. They wanted to know how well we knew each other. Was there a story?

But you know…I really didn’t care about our audience, and paranoid misgivings had no place here. This little slice of joy felt well-earned.

“Who’s hungry for dessert?” Nicole approached our table, tucking a rainbow-striped pencil behind her heavily pierced ear.

“Nothing for me. Thanks,” Waylon said.

“Boo.” Rhys and Gretchen shook their heads emphatically and chanted, “Sundae. Sundae. Sundae.”

I kicked his foot lightly under the table—the first hint of contact I’d allowed myself all night and I was giddy with it. “Get the sundae. Clancy serves the best hot fudge in the Four Forest area, and we’re not sure how that happened ’cause there’s an actual chocolate store in Pinecrest.”

“He’s right,” Nicole chimed in. “Order the sundae.”

“Fine. I think I’m being bullied, though.”

I smiled. “Nah, it’s just a little friendly peer pressure.”