“That’s because I’m living in testosterone hell,” Joleneremarked with her usual candor, moving Luke aside and then catching her in a bear hug. “Got a salve to help that, I’m buying. Hannah, you remember how it used to be. Add jacked-up teenage-boy hormones. Every day, I wrestle with the moral dilemma many animals face. Is today the day I eat my own young?”
“Mom!” Dylan cried out. “That’s awful!”
“You’d never do that,” Ford added with a grimace. “Would ya?”
“I can see it.” Luke only agreed with his version of an evil grin. “Some days I want to dump you two idiots out in the countryside and leave you to the bears and wolves.”
“Do not,” Dylan shot back, shoving him.
Jolene cleared her throat. Loudly. “We haven’t been properly introduced to Hannah’s dear friend and work husband.”
“What’s a work husband?” Dylan asked.
“The best kind of husband, if you ask me.” Jolene shot her a naughty wink. “He’s someone you work with that you can trust who helps you be all you can be while making money.”
“Sounds like the slogan for the Army,” Ford muttered. “So you’re the giant Scottish dude who wears a kilt in the videos with Hannah?”
Neil finally stepped forward after giving Hannah her due. “I am. Good to meet you all. I’m Neil Drummond.”
“Nice to finally meet you.” Jolene stuck out her hand. “These here yo-yos are my boys. In order. Luke, sixteen; Ford, fifteen; and my baby, Dylan, fourteen.”
“Mom, I hate it when you call me that,” Dylan protested, making a gagging sound.
“Better than Frankenstein right now.” Jolene kissed his injury softly. “My boy won the game, but he paid a high price.”
“I was the town hero, Hannah.” Dylan beamed. “We beat Hastings.”
“Way to go,” she said, digging into her purse for her plantain salve. “Stand still, Dylan.”
He rolled his eyes as she gently applied the salve. “You’re making me as greasy as pepperoni pizza.”
“Greasy, maybe, but effective.” She finished the job and handed Jolene the tin. “Neil plays sports that result in plenty of injuries, and he can attest firsthand about how well this works.”
Neil gave a wry nod. “Frankenstein is never a good look, and yes, it works miracles.”
“What do you play, Mr. Drummond?” Ford asked.
“Please call me Neil,” he said, “and pretty much anything, but most especially rugby, football—that’s soccer to you—and an assortment of games from the part of Scotland my mother’s family is from.”
“I’d pick you for my team,” Dylan announced with a grin. “You’d scare the other guys because you’re so massive.”
“All right, the man says you can call him Neil, but not ‘massive.’” Jolene shook her finger at her boys. “And absolutely no pranks.”
Hannah bit her lip to hide her smile. Jolene’s boys were notorious for their pranks. “Does that include me? I still have nightmares about that time you boys built that catapultand sent twenty Western toads into my bedroom through my open window.”
“You were crying like a little girl, ‘Oh my God! Ewwww! Yuck!’” Ford’s imitation of her seriously needed work. “I almost peed my pants laughing.”
Neil was trying hard not to laugh himself. “I used to throw water balloons through my older sister’s window and tell her it had stormed while she was out.”
“So wecanprank you?” Dylan asked hopefully.
“You can try, lad,” Neil answered, crossing his arms and managing to look intimidating.
“No, you cannot!” Jolene ordered. “Neil is a guest. Off-limits—or you answer to me.”
Ford snorted as Dylan mumbled under his breath. Luke only grinned. Goodness, he was looking like a young man. They all were, she guessed. “Everyone’s taller than me now.”
Dylan stretched up on his toes. “Yeah, I’m even taller than Mom.”
