Page 72 of Good For Me

“Where are the rest of the Littles?” I ask pointedly, and Cade scowls at me.

“Littles?” Jas asks.

Cade and Ash both give me warning looks but I pretend I don’t see them.

“The five youngest kids in our family were born just a few months apart and they’ve been an inseparable gang of mayhem and mischief ever since. The family calls them the Littles, mostly because it pisses them off, but also because they’re so little and cute—in a feral puppy sort of way.”

“It’s a bullshit name and you know it,” Cade grumbles. “We’re teenagers now.”

I reach across the table to rumple his hair. “Aw, Cadey, you’ll always be my little buddy.”

He shakes me off. “We were going to ask you for help, but if you’d rather be a giant dick we’ll forget it.”

“Speak for yourself, dude,” Ash says. “I need River to tell me what I’m doing wrong. I keep falling on my kickflip.”

Jas brightens. “You guys skate?”

“Little bit,” Cade says in that same trying-to-be cool voice.

“Riv has been helping us with the kickflip,” Ash says, and I’m relieved to see him coming out of his shell a little. “But I keep falling on my ass.”

She leans across the table. “The trick on a kickflip is to use your back ankle when you’re pushing down,” she says. “If you’re relying on your leg muscles, it’s gonna be too slow.”

We all gape at her. “What?” she asks, patting around her mouth. “Do I have food on my face or something?”

“I didn’t know you could skate,” I say.

She shrugs. “I haven’t had a lot of time for it lately, but I used to be pretty good.”

“You never mentioned it.”

She shrugs again. “I guess it didn’t come up. I don’t think I knew you skated either.” Her eyes travel down my body, taking in my faded Vans shirt and ripped jeans before settling on my messy, longish hair. “I probably should have guessed, though. I always just took you for a surfer boy.”

“Are you more or less impressed that I’m a skater boy too?”

“Oh, more,” she says with that mischievous little grin. “Definitely more impressed. Skating is way cooler.”

“Are you done eating?” Ash asks eagerly. “Could you maybe show me what you mean about the ankle?”

“Sure,” she says, tossing her napkin down on her mostly empty plate. She leans back, rubbing her belly. “God, I ate too much.”

“You don’t have to skate now,” I say quickly, even though the thought of this woman on a skateboard is going to inspire a million fantasies. “You could go lie down for a while.”

She makes a face at me. “I’m full, not injured,” she says. She shoots Ash a glance. “Is your brother always this overprotective?”

“Nah,” he says, grinning at her. “He’s usually pretty cool. He must be afraid you’re going to show him up on a board.”

She laughs, standing. “Oh, I’m definitely going to show him up on a board.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “We’ll see about that.”

A few minutes later the four of us are at the back side of the property, strapping helmets and wrist guards on as Jas gapes around at the backyard skate park. “Man, I would have killed for something like this when I was younger,” Jas says, running a hand over a rail. “I had to make due with park benches and stuff and just hope I didn’t get caught.”

“Dad put this in for River when he was my age,” Ash says. “We have one at home, too, but it’s not as big.”

I give her a sheepish smile. “You maybe weren’t totally wrong about the spoiled thing.”

She laughs, shaking her hair out behind her as she picks up one of the spare boards. “Since I get to benefit from your spoiling, I won’t tease you too much about it.”