She turns to Ryder. “Do I have tools?”
“Dad and I put them in the garage.” Ryder extracts a bag of at least fifty screws.
“I do!” She beams at me like she couldn’t be more pleased. Like she went out and bought the tools herself.
“I know where they are. I’ll get them,” Ryder says then ambles into the house.
I wave the instruction booklet in front of her face. “How were you planning on putting it together when you don’t even know if you have tools?”
“Duh, that’s what fathers and big brothers are for,” Jessica says, all cunning.
Sophie laughs. “If this is going to take a while, we need drinks and snacks.”
“I have chips, guac, and strawberry margaritas,” Jessica says.
“Fantastic.” Sophie hooks her arm into Jessica’s. “Let’s go drag Hailey from her dungeon and get started.”
The two women start to walk off.
“Wait,” I bark
They both stop on a dime and look back at me.
I hold up the instructions. “This is a gas grill. Do you have a propane tank?”
“Um…” Jessica’s brows pull as she studies the box like a tank will just pop out and present itself.
“How are you a lawyer and so awful at planning?” I ask.
She pulls away from Sophie and glares at me. “I’m not awful at planning. I just wasn’t planning on grilling anything today.”
“Then why did you say you had a grill?” I cannot believe how much I like her driving me crazy.
“As you can see, I do have a grill.” She points at it.
I move to her. “Not a usable one.”
“You didn’t ask that.” She takes two steps toward me.
Ryder comes back out, and Sophie shushes him before he can say anything. “They’re arguing again.”
I ignore them and keep my attention fixed on the woman standing in front of me. “When we were buying shit to put on a grill, did it ever occur to you to suggest another option?”
She crosses her arms and looks up at the sky. “Well, you seemed like you had your heart set on hamburgers, Charlie.”
“And this has nothing to do with manipulating us to get your grill assembled?”
“So, he does know her,” Ryder says.
“Seems so,” Sophie agrees.
“Might I remind you that you’re the one who suggested it.” Jessica points an accusing finger in my direction before whipping it through the air. “If I use your desire to my advantage, that’s just strategic.”
“You can’t fault her logic,” Sophie says helpfully.
“See?” Jessica puts her hands on her hips. “Here I am, making sure you get the dinner of your dreams, and where’s my thanks?”
In a slow, measured tone, I say, “You think the dinner of my dreams includes grocery store hamburgers?”
