The window whirred down. “Missed me already?”
I settled my restless hands on the window frame, my chest swelling with hopeful expectation. Before I could say anything, Mikey came bounding down the same steps, whooping and hollering like his pants were on fire. “Yay! Pete and Drewy are here!” The second Andrew’s foot hit dirt Mikey attacked him with love pats and whaps. “We’re gonna have cookies with Pete today, Drewy!” he announced, managing to turn his hug into a power lift.
Feet still dangling from the ground Andrew grinned, his eyes finding mine for confirmation.
Pete had been watching Mikey’s antics, and now his eyes also found mine. “Cookies?” he said.
“I, ummm . . .” My cheeks tingled, but I determinedly pushed through. “We wanted to invite you in to have some cookies with us this afternoon.” I moved my eyes from his sensual mouth back to his captivating eyes. “You know . . . kinda like a good-bye party.”
He was quiet a moment, staring down on me with what could only be described as tenderness until a gleam of humor sparked in them. “Are they homemade?”
I smiled broadly, bobbing my head like an idiot. “Uh-huh. From scratch. Oatmeal and butterscotch chip. It’s, ah . . . my mother’s recipe.” I swallowed, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
“Come on, Pete! “Andrew chimed in. “Join us.”
“Yeah, Pete, join us!” Mikey clawed at the door handle, determined to drag him out if he had to.
“You don’t have to ask me twice!” Pete killed the engine and pushed a button. The window whirred back up to separate us. But not for long, because as soon as he stepped down, he grabbed my hand like it was something we did every day. “Lead on!” he grinned.
A swift surge of pleasure shocked me with joy. I felt as much like jumping up and down as Mikey, but tried to play it cool. I led him into our trailer, memorizing the dry, rough texture of his palm, just in case I never got to feel it again. Andrew’s eyes bugged out when he saw us, but Mikey beamed and scampered over to take possession of Pete’s other hand.
“Come on, Drewy!” Mikey beckoned to his brother. “Let’s pway fowow the leaduh. Kadee’s the leaduh!”
“I’ll follow her wherever she goes,” Pete said, winking.
“That’s for babies,” scoffed Andrew, though I could tell he wanted to join the fun.
“No, it’s not! Pete’s doing it . . . and he’s a grown-up,” Mikey pointed out.
My eyes flew to Pete’s.
“What can I say,” he shrugged around a grin, “I drive a manly truck.”
“They’re not playing follow the leader, you idiot—they’re holdin’ hands.” Following this announcement, Andrew’s face turned the same shade as mine.
“Oh.” Mikey looked up at Pete with new eyes as we crowded into our entryway. Pete dropped my hand the moment we stepped inside. I’d still been holding on like an idiot. Gah. This whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing . . . or whatever we were, was confusing. I didn’t know the rules because I’d never played the game. As if sensing my discomfort, Pete pulled me into his chest, his chin resting on my head.
“Smells delicious,” he murmured. “My mouth is watering already.”
I was just thinking the same thing about him. “Mikey and I have been hard at work. Right?”
“Why am I not surprised?”
I chose to ignore that, moving to the kitchen to set out plates and cups. “Okay boys, wash up for snack.”
“Pete, come with us,” invited Mikey.
“Guess I am one of the boys,” he said. “Lead on . . .”
“Yay! Now I’m the leaduh!” Mikey grabbed Pete’s hand again and dragged him down the hall.
“I’ll show you our room, Pete,” Andrew said, squeezing ahead of them to take the lead. “I have some cool quartz and Indian arrowheads.”
“And I have Spiduhman sheets, and Kadee bought me a Hummuh, just wike youwers!” Mikey bragged, almost beside himself with pride.
“Is it parked out back?” Pete teased.
Andrew laughed while Mikey set the record straight. “No, it’s in my woom . . . it’s not a weal one.”
I couldn’t erase the smile on my face as I worked and listened to their boy banter. A visceral sensation—I hadn’t dared hoped for since Mama died— overcame me again. That everything-is-exactly-as-it-should-be feeling. It felt like a soothing balm on the parched skin of my soul. Tears shimmered in my eyes as I set about pouring milk and slicing bananas. Setting a sunny plate of warm, gooey cookies on the center of the table, I called for the boys. They all elephant-trumped back in, smiles of anticipation brightening their faces.
Pete’s eyes found mine. “Where should I sit?”
“How ‘bout here?” Mikey pulled out the chair at the head of the table.
“You sure?” Pete hedged. “I feel like I’m taking someone’s seat.”
“Sure I’m sure . . . that’s Daddy’s chair, and he’s nevuh home,” declared an ever informative Mikey.
I didn’t dare glance at Pete as he lowered himself onto the padded chair, instead, placing napkins on each place mat during the second awkward pause of the afternoon so far. I plastered a smile. “Dig in.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Pete said, grabbing a cookie off the top.
We Connellys used our manners and waited for our guest. I realized we were all staring at him with baited breath, adding weight to the inconsequential moment. He held the cookie midair, his lips appearing to be too occupied with suppressing a smile to take a proper bite. I had to laugh because the impatient, frozen anticipation on our faces as we waited for Pete to take his first bite was something right out of Mikey’s Green Eggs and Ham book. Finally, before the suspense threatened to kill Mikey, he took a slow, giant bite.
“Mmmmm! Oh man!” Pete exaggeratedly worked his jaw, humming noises of pleasure and banging on the table, acting as if it were so good, he was rendered speechless. After a hard swallow, he said, “Wow!—that might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted!” My brothers’ faces illuminated like light bulbs. Then in an aside to me: “Well . . . maybe the second best.” He winked, and I whacked him with a dishtowel, blushing all the way to the tips of my toes.
“Ow!” Pete rubbed at his arm. “What was that for?” I just shook my head. “Our girl has a hard time accepting compliments,” he informed the boys. They merely smiled and nodded at him, too busy chewing on their own cookies to add their two cents.
“Do not,” I disagreed.
“Do too,” he insisted.
I poked my tongue out at him, then went around to sit next to Andrew, partly because I hadn’t seen him all day and partly because Mikey was all over Pete, regaling him with a litany of knock-knock jokes. After inhaling a couple of bites of my hard work, I raised my milk glass to Andrew.
“Cheers, big ears,” I said, clunking our mismatched glasses together.
“Cheewers with me, Kadee,” demanded Mikey.
“Why don’t we all cheer?” Pete raised his glass toward the middle of the table. He cleared his throat dramatically. “I propose a toast: To our favorite girl . . . and the most delicious cookies I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting.”