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“Here she is,” Mom sings. “It’s the birthday girl.”

“Are you sure you’re twenty-three? Because you look more like forty-three.” Mack frowns at me. “And that’s only if I squint hard enough. When I don’t squint, it goes up to sixty.”

I glower at him and sit down. Yep, Mack is just the type of child you’d expect out of those circumstances.

“I’ll remember that comment in six years, when you’re trying to hook up with my friends,” I fire back.

He grins at me. “Why make them wait six years when they can have me now?”

“Because that would be highly illegal,” I snap.

“Only if people find out,” he points out. “And I’m not a kiss and tell kinda guy.”

I groan, because if he’s this cocky at twelve, what’s he going to be like in six years? Then again, with Cameron Hunter as his brother, he never stood a chance to begin with.

Ah, Cameron …

What can I say about Cameron?

Mom met Jim Hunter, Cameron and Mack’s father, a little over six months ago. Their relationship has moved faster than Cameron moves onto his next conquest, but I don’t mind so much, because I haven’t seen Mom this happy in a long time. And if she’s happy, then so am I. Jim is actually a true gentleman, which is rare these days. While I was all for them getting engaged, Cameron wasn’t so thrilled. I’m not sure what his problem is, other than the fact that he enjoys being difficult. How Jim produced such an arrogant, rude, asshole like Cameron baffles me sometimes.

Full disclosure, most of what I know about Cameron, I’ve learned from the gossip pages. He went through a period last year where he jumped from scandal to scandal, and some of the shit he did was downright crazy. He’s quietened down a lot since then, but the few times we’ve met in person haven’t done much to sway my opinion of him. He’s barely said two words to me, which I’m fine with, because I get my daily dose of Hunter arrogance dealing with Mack.

But at least Mack has some endearing qualities.

I sit back and groan, pushing aside my plate. I’m so full, but one thing is for certain; nobody does blueberry pancakes quite like Mom. Even though it takes more effort than I’m willing to commit to, I stand up and toss my plate into the water filled sink. Mom raises her eyebrows at me.

“What?” I protest with a shrug. “It’s my birthday.”

“And?” Mom retorts with a laugh. “That excuse wouldn’t even work for Mack.”

Sighing, I put my phone on the kitchen counter and reluctantly wade my hands into the tepid, dirty dishwater to retrieve my plate. Of course, the moment I do, my phone pings with a text message.

“Shit,” I mutter. “That will be Katie. We’re having lunch today.”

“Language,” Mom says in a stern voice.

“Really?” I laugh. “Says the woman who swears like a friggin sailor when she’s had half a glass of wine.” I chuckle. “Not to mention the farting. Speaking of, has Jim heard you fart the alphabet yet?”

“I haven’t done that in ten years,” Mom protests, her face turning crimson.

“I know, but it was my fifteenth birthday party you did it at,” I remind her. “I’ll never forget the horrified look on Sash’s mother’s face. And then you made it worse by trying to blame the dog.”

“What? She almost brought it.” She narrows her eyes at me when she talked. “Until you pointed out we no longer had a dog.”

“Hey, all I said was that if Monty made that stench, it was impressive, since he’d been buried in our yard for the last six months.” I shrug, fighting back a giggle.

My phone pings again. Mom and I both look at it, and then at each other.

“It’s Katie,” I repeat, rolling my eyes. “Can you check it for me?”

She picks it up and snorts loudly as she chokes back laughter.

“What?” I ask, curious.

“Uh … I don’t think you really wanted me to answer this,” she murmurs. “Did you by any chance place an ad that you maybe didn’t want your old mom knowing about?” she teases. “And what the hell is a Furry, by the way?”

Mack’s ears prick up. He looks up from the phone he’s been glued to for the last ten minutes.

“Huh? It’s a dude, isn’t it?” His eyes darken, a smile slowly spreading across his lips. “Or a chick? "Because that would be really hot …” He nods knowingly.

I screw my face up because whatever he’s thinking, it’s not good.

“Gross,” I snap at Mack. “Get away from me.”

“Go,” Mom agrees.

She narrows her eyes at him and tries to shoo him out of the kitchen.

“Seriously?” Mack huffs. He looks from Mom to me, a hurt expression on his face. “I was just trying to be supportive of her choices and that’s the thanks I get?”

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