“Depends on what they want to build,” Graham says. “Probably a few hundred to a couple thousand dollars each.”
If their clubs want to make floats next year, they will. I’ll find a way to donate the funds anonymously. Harry’s money could pay for floats for every club at Sunshine High without making a dent. I’ve been carrying on his tradition of donating to the food bank and the local women’s shelter, but I don’t have a clue what else to do with it. Having something on the horizon, even as simple as money for high school clubs, takes some of the weight off my chest.
We linger over dinner, and the sun is down by the time conversation breaks enough for us to start taking our plates into the kitchen. Once everything’s in the dishwasher and the table’scleared and cleaned, I head into the living room. It would be smarter to just walk out the door and go home to my cabin, but I’m not a complete jerk. Not always. This is family time, no matter how crazy they make me.
Of course, I’ve immediately got an audience when I sit back down.
Jovie climbs onto the arm of the couch next to me. She perches there like a little owl, all big-eyed curiosity as she stares. “Are you going to answer my texts about Rose?”
Huh. Deadly like an owl, too.
“He isn’t answering anyone’s texts about Rose,” Graham points out.
“But my questions are more fun than yours.”
“I could come up with some fun questions.” Nathan’s smirk deserves to be punched off.
“Try it and see how much you like my response.” I know exactly the kinds of things he’d ask, given the chance.
Nathan laughs, but Lucy nods in appreciation. “Protective hero. I like it.”
I glance away. I’m not protective. I just don’t like Nathan thinking along those lines about Rose. Or the guy at the coffee shop yesterday, whose face I would have happily beat in if he’d said one more smarmy thing to her. That’s not protectiveness. It’s…I can’t think of the right word.
I want them to respect her, that’s all. Under threat of pain, if necessary.
“But what does she do when she’s not at work? What does she like? How old is she? Where do you take her to dinner? Have you kissed her yet? Does she like kissing you even though you have a beard? I bet it’s scratchy, huh? Does she like horses? Has she ever played softball?”
How can one kid have so many questions in her head? She keeps asking more, giving me no time to come up with answers or even fully think about the questions.
Except the one about whether Rose likes kissing me. That one, I’m thinking about.
Luke walks into the living room in the middle of the Spanish Inquisition. “Jovie.” He uses just enough dad-voice to stop the flood of off-the-wall questions. “Aren’t you going to show me what you’ve done on the hammer so far?”
He might be trying to set a precedent that spares himself from romantic interrogations of his own in the future, but I appreciate the rescue.
“Okay. Just one more second.” She slides her butt off the couch but puts her elbows on the arm of my chair, her hands clasped. She leans in until we’re almost nose to nose. “Don’t tell them everything while I’m gone.”
“Have no fear. I won’t tell them anything.” Especially Nathan.
“Then tellmeone thing about Rose.” She shakes her little prayer hands, begging for a scrap of information. “Please? Please?”
And because I’m a sucker for the kid, I do. “Rose likes to bake. She brings cookies and banana bread into the coffee shop for us sometimes.”
“Do you think she would bake with me?” Jovie’s little smile busts out like she’s already planning how they’ll team up on one of her favorite baking shows.
“I think she might.” Rose is soft-hearted under most circumstances already. She would immediately be on board the “can’t deny Jovie anything” train.
Luke holds his hand out for her. “I need to see your progress before it’s past your bedtime.”
She takes his hand but makes it clear she’s leaving the living room against her will. “Why do I have to have a bedtime in the summer?”
“Because your dad needs sleep, too.”
She squints up at him. “I guess so. You’re super old.”
“Thanks, peanut.” They round the corner into the kitchen to access the garage.
“So,” Nathan says. “You like Rose’s cookies.”
