Page 67 of Beating Heart
“Is dinner ready, Pops?” Cutler yelled. I stepped back, and Emerson cleared her throat before reaching for her beer.
“It’s ready. Let me get this onto the table.” I plated the food, and Emerson came around and grabbed the salad and garlic bread and carried it out to the table for me.
“Why do I always have to have the plain milk with dinner?” my son asked, and I shot him a warning look. I didn’t do the whiny bullshit, and he knew it. He was only asking because we had company, so he was pushing his luck.
“Cutler,” I said, my voice firm, as we all took our seats.
“Pops. You know I like for you to call me Beefcake.”
“Fine. You know the rules, Beefcake. Don’t try to work me over just because we’ve got a pretty lady at the table.”
“She is pretty, isn’t she?” he said.
“She can hear you, you know?” Emerson said with a laugh. “Thank you for saying I’m pretty. Now, tell me what the rule is about the milk.”
“I only get chocolate milk on Friday night. We do pizza and chocolate milk. But the other nights, I have to have plain milk.” Cutler made a face, and he had a big milk mustache on his lip. “But when I go to my uncles’ houses, I always get the chocolate milk.”
“Which uncle breaks the rule?” she asked, as she placed some salad on her plate.
“All of them.” My boy twirled his noodles around his fork and popped it into his mouth.
“Bunch of traitors,” I said, my eyes zeroing in on her mouth when she groaned after taking her first bite of a meatball.
“Don’t you think my pops has the best balls?” Cutler said as he looked at her, too.
She finished chewing, a wide grin on her face, as she nodded. “Yep. He’s definitely got the best balls in town.”
Loud laughter escaped my mouth, and Cutler shook his head and smiled before talking over a mouthful of food. “I’ve never heard you laugh so much before. I think you like Sunny and Winnie just as much as I do.”
“They’re fine,” I said, my voice pure humor.
“Pops didn’t like you when you first moved in, but now I see him looking over at your house all the time when we’re outside.”
When did Cutler start throwing me under the fucking bus?
I raised a brow and looked at him.
“What? You know it’s true, Pops,” he said over his laughter. I leaned forward and wiped the milk mustache from his lip.
“Maybe I’m just making sure the fence can hold Winnie in the yard,” I said.
More laughter.
These two thought the whole thing was hilarious.
“I think you’re right, Beefcake. I think he’s looking for us.” Emerson spun her pasta around her fork, just like my son did. “And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking over here all the time, too.”
I took a pull from my bottle as my gaze locked with hers.
I liked the idea of her looking over here more than I should.
It had been a long time since I’d wanted a woman like this.
And there was no doubt about it.
I wanted this woman something fierce.
eighteen
