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There was also one hell of a living room set up that could easily accommodate forty people at once.
And it was currently being utilized.
“Anyone know how to unspoil a child?” Ande yelled over the cacophony of voices. “I’ve messed this one up.”
We all looked toward the sound of pounding feet.
Then my three-year-old daughter, Addison, came barreling out of the hallway toward me.
She’d been sleeping in the bedroom in a pile of blankets with her other cousins for nap time…but apparently, we were unaware that she’d been awake for a bit.
Every single one of the Carters who were sitting on the large sectional couch that Ande insisted on having for these exact purposes gasped.
My siblings and their significant others, who were also filling couches and bar area, just laughed.
None of the Carters had any significant others. Yet.
But a few of them were working on it.
None of them had kids.
And since they didn’t have kids, they didn’t know the shit that they could get up to.
My sisters, however, knew the score.
They were all horrible.
Every last one of them.
Even the one barreling toward me with what looked like peanut butter covering every single inch of her body.
I stood up and caught her before Addison could touch the couch, and ended up nearly dropping her when she started to slip through my hands as I picked her up.
The only thing that kept her from hitting the ground was my quick grasp lower, arm going toward her panty-clad butt.
And, of course, she was completely naked except for underwear.
Keeping her clothed might as well be an Olympic event.
“Darling child,” I said to the peanut butter-covered girl in my arms, now staining my clothes. “Why are you covered in peanut butter?”
Addison grinned at me, brandishing her mother’s smile like a weapon because she knew what it did to me.
“We wanted peanut butter balls,” she said sweetly.
I looked over at Ande and raised my brows. “Told you we should’ve made them before she took a nap.”
“And I told you that I didn’t feel like making them, Keene Carter!”
When we’d gotten married and I’d taken her name, I’d dropped the Day, too.
I was now Keene Carter, no middle name, and sure the fuck not Singh.
A muffled sound filled the room, but it was the last thing on my mind as I tried and failed to come up with a way to do this without making a huge fucking mess.
“Hey, your phone’s ringing.”
“Answer it for me, baby,” I said as I walked with Addison to the closet bathroom and started to hose her down.
