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"Trial by fire," Rush told me, smiling. "It will be quieter now. There are more older kids right now than younger ones. They'll probably be inside sulking that Helen won't let them fuck around on their phones during Sunday dinner."
"There she is. The Crêpe Queen!" Atlas declared as soon as we moved into the living room, beaming over at me, light, carefree. I'd forced Rush to drop him off some extra crêpes when I'd made Rush his entire smorgasbord of them.
He'd paid me back by making a drawing of a six-hundred-pound him, surrounded by piles of empty plates.
Apparently, landscapes weren't his only forte.
I kept the picture, mostly because Rush wanted to take it and get it shrunk down to fit on a birthday card to give back to him next year.
I didn't pretend to understand brotherly love, but it seemed to have a lot to do with teasing the hell out of one another.
"Hey!" a voice called, coming into the room with multi-colored hair and tattoos. "How's the vibrator?" she asked, making Rush glance over at me, brows raised, as Atlas tried to stifle a laugh with a cough.
"I, uhm, what?" I asked, shaking my head.
"Fee. She gave you the vibe, right? That's a good one. I mean it has nothing on the little butterfly one you can wear hands-free, but it's good."
"I, ah, I haven't tried it," I told her, feeling my face heat up.
"Oh, that's right. You're in the 'oh your dick is as good as any battery-operated device' stage still, right?" she asked, whacking Rush on the arm.
"This is Peyton, in case that wasn't infinitely clear already," Rush introduced the woman whose reputation preceded her. "Peyton, Katie."
"Yep. And she's ours now," Peyton said, reaching out to grab my free arm, pulling me away from Rush. "Go on. The guys are checking out Charlie's new TV."
With that, I was pulled along with Peyton as Rush shot me an apologetic look.
He'd warned me they would take me. It sounded downright cult-ish when he'd first said it. The reality was, I was pulled through to the kitchen where all the women were gathered around. Some stood at the oversize island, breaking green beans or slicing up broccoli. Others were sitting at the table, making desserts, sugar and flour all over the table, the floor, and themselves.
Others still were in front of the stove, stirring and checking inside.
"Kate!" Fiona greeted, waving a piece of lettuce on me. "They're letting me help," she declared. "I'm considering screwing it up, so I can continue my long streak of doing nothing but providing colorful commentary. Guys, this is Kate," she said, pulling me toward her side and away from Peyton who barely seemed to notice as she went to pour herself a glass of wine.
"And Kate, this is," she started, sucking in a deep breath. "Peyton, Autumn, Savvy, Lea, Scotti, Jamie, Dusty, and, of course, Helen. Oh, and my minions over there. Becca, Izzy, and Mayla. That's a lot of names. No one expects you to remember everyone—"
"I think I know of everyone but Jamie," I admitted, looking over at the woman with the short hair, wearing a gray and blue flannel.
"Jamie. Peyton and Savvy's best friend," Fiona supplied.
"Hi," I said, giving her a smile.
"So... Rush has been talking about us, huh?" Peyton asked. "What did he say about me?"
"Ah, he said a lot of things about you," I admitted, smiling a bit at the stories.
"All bad, I hope," she said, shooting me a wink.
"What did he say about me?" another voice asked, making me turn to find the Mallick matriarch standing there. The oldest woman in the room, she somehow also managed to be the most striking. Tall, fit, with beautiful bone structure and long, thick hair, she carried herself with the bearing of a queen. But one who had seen battles herself.
She was even more intimidating in person than I had made her up to be in my head. Which was an impressive feat.
"That you took him and his siblings in like your own kids. And that you are a great cook. And that you would tell me to my face if you don't like me."
"Well then," Helen said, lips twitching. "There you have it. It's nice to meet you, Kate. Atlas has been raving about your baking skills since he started crashing in our basement two days ago. Apparently, they are life-changing. So I guess we should stick you on desserts with Dusty and Becca," she said, waving me toward the table.
I imagined that it had been mentioned that I cooked, not just bake, so I was curious if Helen decided to put me with Dusty and her granddaughter because she thought they would be easier transitions for me into this crazy kitchen world they created.
Even when the women weren't actively speaking, they were loud. Chopping, opening and closing cabinets, putting baking trays on the counter, shuffling pots and pans together.
