Page 11 of Sobek’s Joy

“Fish.” Rose shrieked, pressing her face against the kitchen window. “The big man brought fish.”

Rudy glanced up from helping Timothy tie his shoes - a process that somehow involved more knots than any shoe should require - and squinted through the glass. Sure enough, Sobek’s black car sat in the driveway, and the man himself stood on the porch holding what looked like a cooler. It was the third visit in a week, not that Rudy was counting.

“Let him in, Rose, but do not - and I mean do not - climb on him like a jungle gym.” Rudy pointed at her sternly. “We talked about this.”

Rose bounded to the door, Jack right behind her. Timothy abandoned his half-tied shoe and scrambled after them, scales flickering across his forearms before disappearing. Rudy grabbed the moisturizer from the coffee table and followed at a more sedate pace, mentally preparing himself for another hour of trying not to stare at Sobek’s biceps. He was failing spectacularly at that particular goal…much like the painting in the living room, which still wasn’t finished.

Rose flung the door open. “You came back.”

“I did.” Sobek’s deep voice rumbled through the entryway. “I brought catfish, freshly caught this morning.”

“From your pond?” Jack peered into the cooler with interest.

“From the bayou beyond it.”

Timothy reached up, making grabby hands until Sobek crouched down to his level. The little boy touched the cooler carefully, then beamed up at Sobek with an expression of pure joy that made Rudy’s heart do something complicated in his chest.

“Hey.” Rudy appeared in the doorway, very deliberately not noticing how Sobek’s black shirt stretched across his shoulders. “You know you don’t have to keep bringing us things, right? Not that I’m complaining about fresh fish because holy crap, that’s amazing, but seriously. You’ve done enough.”

Sobek straightened, and Rudy had to tilt his head back to meet those dark, intense eyes. “I caught too many. It would be wasteful to let it spoil.”

“Uh-huh.” Rudy crossed his arms, fighting a smile. “And last time it was ‘the vegetables from the market were on sale,’ and before that it was ‘I wanted to check that the kids understood water safety.’”

“All true statements.”

“I’m not arguing.” Rudy stepped back, gesturing Sobek inside. “But I’m starting to think you just like hanging around three feral children and their disaster of a guardian.”

Something flickered in Sobek’s expression - too fast for Rudy to catch - before the man nodded once. “It could be that, too.”

Rudy’s heart did that flutter thing again. He ignored it and ushered everyone toward the kitchen, where the breakfast dishes still cluttered the sink, and Timothy’s flour handprints decorated the counter from their earlier baking attempt.

“Sorry about the mess.” Rudy grabbed the dish towel, swiping halfheartedly at the flour. “We made muffins. Well, we attempted muffins. The jury’s still out on whether they’re edible.”

Sobek set the cooler on the table, apparently unbothered by the mess. Rose immediately tried to climb onto the table to investigate, but Sobek caught her around the waist and deposited her on the floor.

“After lunch,” he told her firmly.

Rose pouted but didn’t argue, which was frankly miraculous. Rudy had never seen anyone besides himself successfully tell Rose “no” without triggering a full-scale tantrum.

“How do you do that?” Rudy stared at Sobek. “Seriously, teach me your ways. She spent twenty minutes this morning arguing that pants were optional.”

“Pants are optional,” Rose announced.

“Not in this house, they’re not.” Rudy pointed at her. “Something else we’ve discussed repeatedly.”

Jack snickered. Timothy climbed onto a chair, watching Sobek with rapt attention as the man opened the cooler to reveal four enormous catfish on ice.

“Whoa.” Rudy moved closer, genuinely impressed. “Those are huge. And gorgeous. I mean…as far as fish go. Which sounds weird, but they really are beautiful.”

He was babbling. Stop babbling.

Sobek’s mouth twitched - not quite a smile, but close. “They’re good eating. I can prepare them if you’d like.”

“You cook too?” Rudy pressed his hand to his chest. “Be still my heart. A man who catches fish and knows how to clean them? That’s basically a superpower.”

“I’ve had practice.”

“I’ll bet.” Rudy grabbed plates from the cabinet, then paused. “Wait, have you eaten lunch yet? Because I was about to heat up leftover mac and cheese for the kids, but if you’re staying, I can make something better. Not that my mac and cheese isn’t spectacular, because it is. It comes from a box, but I add extra butter, so obviously it’s gourmet. But I could probably scrounge up an actual meal if you give me ten minutes and don’t judge the state of my fridge.”