Page 144 of Unruly

Damn.

“Cece, stop sneaking that meat,” Catherine chided, drawing their attention back across the room. “You’re going to fill up and not eat what I put on your plate.”

Cece shook her head.

“Don’t you tell me no, little miss.”

Again, their daughter shook her head.

Dante hid his laughter by taking a drink. Cross did the same thing.

“Cece Catherine,” his wife warned.

“I noes steal turkey,” Cece said.

As she spoke, little bits of uneaten turkey fell from her puffed out cheeks. Like a little squirrel, her cheeks were filled with meat.

“You did!”

“Noes.”

More turkey fell.

“Cece, I can see it.”

“Noes,” Cece said firmly before she swallowed everything in her mouth. Then, she stuck out her tongue. “See, noes turkey, Ma.”

“That’s because you swallowed it!”

Cece shook her head once more.

“Stop telling me no, Cece.”

“I noes says noes, Ma. I shake my head. Not noes, Ma. Not.”

“Cece, it is the same—”

“Not noes, Ma,” Cece interjected with a shrug. “I says what I says.”

Cross couldn’t help it. He choked on his laughter and the brandy in his mouth. Instantly, all the gazes in the room fell on him. He was still wiping the alcohol from his mouth as he left the room.

Yep.

Every inch of that kid.

All him.

Every single inch.

He regretted nothing.

Cross shifted the gears of the eighteen wheeler lower as he headed down Grand Falls road. Already having passed through Limestone, the border crossing was coming right up. Another three minutes behind the wheel, and he would be beyond the American border into California Settlement, New Brunswick.

A few backroads, and the main town—mostly French—of Grand Falls would lead him onto the Trans-Canada Highway. Twelve hours later, and he would be dropping his load of smuggled guns off to the waiting Guzzi family in Ontario.

Then, he would catch a plane and head back home.

Simple.