The back door opened straight into the kitchen. His parents had talked for years about remodeling the kitchen, but once they had the money to make the plan a reality, they bought a convertible Cadillac instead. His mom didn’t give a damn about her cabinets being outdated when they were cruising down the coast with the top down.
She was at the counter, preparing dinner, and he leaned around to kiss her cheek without interrupting the meatball-making process. “Are those the good kind or the bad kind?”
“The good kind.” No onions, then, just for him and over his dad’s objections. “Your sister said she ran into you and made you feel bad about neglecting me, so you might stop by. I was hoping.”
He was the worst son ever born in the history of the planet. Maybe the history of the entire universe. And still she didn’t put onions in the meatballs, just for him. “Ma, you know—”
Her soft laugh cut him off. “You know I’m just messing with you. If I ever feel neglected, you know damn well I won’t be shy about picking up the phone. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll show up on your doorstep.”
“But not at the firehouse, right?” Being the youngest on his truck was challenging enough without his mommy showing up to lecture him about not calling or coming to dinner.
She laughed again, though this chuckle had a far more maternally sinister undertone than the first. “I guess you should make sure I never feel neglected.”
“I stopped at the market on my way.” He pulled the container of coffee ice cream out of his pocket. It was the only flavor of ice cream his father wouldn’t touch—practically the onlyfoodhe wouldn’t touch—so it had always been a special treat just for her. “I’ll put it in the freezer for you.”
“I don’t care what anybody says, Gavin. You’re a good boy.”
He laughed and went through the doorway into the living room to find his dad. Taking down the wall and making the first floor more open-concept had been part of the kitchen remodel that became a Cadillac instead.
“Hey, Pops.”
“Thought I heard you in there.” He put out his hand for the fist bump that had replaced kissing his old man on the cheek around the time he’d starting growing hair in strange new places.
Gavin took his usual seat on the sofa, knowing based on the meatball progress that it would be a little while before it was time to help his mother with setting the table and serving the food.
“How’s work?” his dad asked, turning the news down a few notches.
“It’s good. Now that the Christmas insanity is behind us, it’s mostly accidents and people trying to stay warm when their heat’s out. How about you?”
“Just pushing papers.” He’d worked for the water and sewer commission since Gavin was a kid, and rarely talked about his job. But since paperwork was Gavin’s least favorite thing on the planet, he could only imagine his dad simply didn’t find it worth talking about.
They talked sports for a few minutes, and then his dad turned up the TV again so they could watch the guy on the screen talk about sports. Other than a few derisive snorts, there was no talking during the sports segment so when his phone chimed a new text message from his pocket, it sounded loud.
He was just going to silence it and set it to vibrate so it wouldn’t interrupt dinner, but the preview showed a tiny photo and curiosity got the better of him. His dad was engrossed in the news, so he pulled up the message.
It was a group text, to his entire crew. He opened it to get a better look at the picture of a phone in a bright pink case. And displayed on that phone was another picture.
Of him checking out Cait’s ass.
And just in case none of the guys could come to that conclusion on their own, her brother had added a helpful caption.TFW a guy checks out ur sister’s ass in front of you.
“Shit.”
His father cleared his throat. “Problem?”
“Uh, no. Sorry.” Obviously he was lying, since he knew better than to swear in his mother’s house, whether she could hear him from the kitchen or not. “Just a work thing.”
And by work thing, he meant that work was going to be a nightmare of ribbing about his interest in the EMT who clearly didn’t like him. The text had originated from Jeff Porter. And Jeff had a daughter about Carter’s age, and he’d bet that was her phone and that she was part of the circle of friends he’d sent the picture to.
The wordshitbounced around his head again, though he was smart enough not to let it out of his mouth. Forget vibrate. He silenced the phone entirely because there was going to be a shitload of crap coming his way and there was a strict no-phones-during-visits-with-Mom rule. He’d rather catch up on the ribbing when he was home with a beer in hand, anyway. It was going to be a long time before he lived this one down.
Before he put the phone back in his pocket, he pinched the picture and zoomed in on Cait, though.
She really did have a great ass.
* * *
Tuesday morning got off to a slow start, so Cait and Tony lingered at the garage, socializing with others before climbing into the ambulance to go in search of good coffee, and to be ready to respond should a call come in.
