How could I forget?
Nearly two hours of Riley and Sunny singing at the top of their lungs while my driver stared straight ahead like a man questioning every decision that had led him to this exact moment in life.
“Oh, what a shame missing that long performance would have been,” I say, doing my best to keep the cringe from my face.
As cute as they are, these two most definitely cannot hold a tune.
“I know, right?” Sunny says, once again smiling like I’ve paid them the highest compliment.
“Let’s go, big guy,” Riley says, opening the door before I can offer another perfectly reasonable complaint. “Your chefs have prepared a feast, and we have presents to give.”
I step out of the car, buttoning my suit jacket as I glance toward the glowing estate.
Music hums faintly from inside, and I can hear laughter from out here.
So despite myself, despite the fact that I was kidnapped by two tone-deaf women with dangerous smiles and absolutely no respect for a man’s schedule, warmth spreads through my chest.
I was not expecting this.
Maybe that’s the surprise.
“Brother,” Spike greets as he opens the door. “How was the trip?”
“Your lovely wife and Sunny serenaded me with vocal precision,” I say.
“Damn,” he flinches. “Sorry, man.”
“No harm done,” I say with a soft laugh. “Well… not much harm.”
“Hey,” Riley says, pushing past us both, “I sing like a freaking angel.”
“The angel of death, maybe,” Skip says as he rounds the corner holding a fork.
I pause, taking in the sight of him.
Because, of course Skip is wandering through my home with a fork.
“Maverick,” he says, completely serious, “where’s all the good china? I want to see the difference between fake and real silver.”
“The dining room, I suppose,” I say slowly. “Why do you have a fork?”
“Brought this from home,” he sighs, lifting it like that should explain everything. “Your chefs won’t let me in the dining room until it’s time to eat.”
“They’re wise men.”
“They’re tyrants,” he corrects. “I told them I was conducting important scientific research.”
“With a fork?” I ask.
Skip looks offended. “How else am I supposed to test the silver? By licking it?”
He pauses.
“Wait. Does that work?”
Not giving me a chance to respond, Skip lifts the fork to his mouth and drags his tongue across the tines in one long, horrifying lick.
Then he smacks his lips, nods like he’s determined something vital, and turns to walk away.
