Cleo, who Cook had been running ragged all day, groaned as she dropped into the chair beside me with a plate of food. “God, I’m starving,” she said, digging her fork into a pile of potato salad. “Remind me never to volunteer when Cook asks for help. I don’t know how anyone keeps up with him and his standards. He’s nuts!”
I laughed, taking a sip of beer. “Naw, I think you’ll still help. That’s just who you are.”
She blew out a breath and grumbled, “Well, maybe I don’t want to be that person anymore. Being nice doesn’t get you anything.”
I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. Cleo wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right, either. People often mistook kindness for weakness, and sometimes that got exploited. After dealing with the shit from her ex, I reckoned she was pretty familiar with that concept.
“You did a damn good job with this coleslaw,” I said, gesturing toward her plate.
Cleo stopped mid-bite. “Uh, thank you,” she said with a small smile. “How’d you know I made it instead of Cook?”
“I’ve eaten it enough throughout my life to know.”
“Guess you got me there,” she said. “I’m pretty sure that was one of the first things mom taught me to make just so she didn’t have to chop things anymore.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“Neither would I! She hates it. That’s why there are like five of those easy-chop things stuffed in the cabinets. I swear, it was love at first sight whenever they came out.”
“Are you talking about me?” Ruby asked, sitting down beside Cleo. She reached over and snatched a piece of brisket off her daughter’s plate. “I won’t apologize for my love of those little choppers, and I won’t hear of you talking ill against them either!”
“Oh god, I hate those things,” Doug said, setting his beer on the table. “They are a bitch to clean. I always cut myself.”
“They give you gloves!” Ruby said.
“Those are for cutting, not washing. It shouldn’t be that big of a hazard, and wearing gloves seems silly, Rubes.”
“Do you wear gloves when you work?”
“Well, yeah,” he said.
“Do they protect your skin when mending all those barbed wire fences?” Ruby asked, raising a brow. I laughed, knowing damn well she had him right where she wanted him.
“Yes…”
“Then why wouldn’t you wear them when handling sharp objects in the kitchen?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.
Doug sighed and closed his eyes. “Alright, honey. You’ve made your point. I’ll wear the gloves.”
“Oh, no. I think you should go without them now. Since they’re silly and all,” she said, dipping her chin.
He grabbed a chair and brought it over before sinking down into it. “Boys, if I could give you one piece of life advice, it’d be this… Never try to win an argument with your wife. It doesn’t matter how small it may seem. Just let it go. It ain’t worth it.”
“Don’t I know it,” Lincoln said, sipping his drink. “I tried arguing about the color of our bedding, which was the worst three hours of my life.”
“I don’t know why you don’t like the pink…” Josie mumbled. “It’s not neon or anything.”
“You know damn well it has nothing to do with the color and everything to do with the fringe at the bottom. It’s a pain in the ass in the washing machine.” Josie lifted a brow, and Lincoln sighed. “Right, sorry.”
“Well, at least one of you can take that wisdom to heart,” Lennox said, returning to the group. “It’s not like Bishop will ever get to use it.”
“Lennox Rose,” Ruby said. “What has gotten into you?”
She met my gaze, shrugging. Her claws were sharpened, ready to strike. “What? It’s the truth.”
“Yeah, it is,” I said, narrowing my gaze.
Ruby laid her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t mind her. She’s been in a mood for the past few months.”
