Page 117 of Made for Mayhem

“It’s weird,” Emmy said as she came in the front door. “We know it.”

Beckett stood and kissed her, then helped her slide into the booth across from Daisy and me.

“How was the studio?” he asked, twirling a stray lock of dark hair that had escaped Emmy’s ponytail. “Good day?”

She nodded. “Yeah. We had your mom and the knitting ladies in this afternoon. They told me to tell you they miss you.”

Beckett laughed. “Next week, I’m there. Tell Ruth she’s going down.”

“Is Pilates a competition?” Daisy asked.

Emmy shook her head.

“Anything’s a competition if you try hard enough,” Beckett said.

Their voices overlapped easily after that. I watched Daisy slot into it without effort, laughing with Emmy, trading looks with Beckett like she’d been doing it for years. Something in my chest ached in the best and worst way.

This was what it could look like.

And I wanted it so badly it scared me.

As if she sensed my gaze lingering, Daisy glanced my way and winked.

I dropped my eyes to my hands, doing my best to hide my grin.

The bell over the door jingled, and Shannon walked in, dropping into the last open chair at our table. “Same tablecloths. Same food. Same jukebox that only plays Dean Martin or Vicente Fernández.”

“Where’s Mom?” Beckett asked.

“The knitting club headed to Vail today to ride the gondola,” Shannon said. “Mason took her. I’m on my own until tonight.”

Emmy tapped a finger against her lips. “Interesting. Because Tate bailed on our plans tonight to go ride the gondola too.”

“Well, shit, little brother,” Beckett said with a laugh. “Maybe this isn’t such an uphill battle anymore. Think they’ll end up together someday?”

I raised a brow. “Oh, so we’re just playing matchmaker with everyone now? Is Shannon next?”

“Don’t you dare.” Shannon pushed back from the table, already halfway to standing.

Beckett caught her arm, grinning. “Relax. You’re safe for now. These two, though.” He pointed between Daisy and me. “I’m invested.”

“Leave them alone,” Emmy said, elbowing him. “You’ll scare her off.”

“Don’t do that,” Shannon added. “I like her better than you.”

Daisy grinned. “I like you too, Shannon.”

I draped an arm over the back of the booth, and Beckett’s grin turned devious—but for once, he kept his commentary to himself.

Our server dropped off two pitchers of soda and a stack of red plastic cups. The kids abandoned pinball the second the garlic knots and cheese sticks hit the table. Junie climbed into the booth between Molly and Jace, already lecturing them on the physics of a cheese pull.

“The mozzarella has to hit two hundred and thirty degrees to stretch like that,” she said, demonstrating with a cheese stick. “My mom and I tested it last year.”

Molly pointed a garlic knot at her. “This is the information I like. Keep it coming, Rook.”

Daisy laughed, low and warm, sounding genuine even though it touched on a memory of her sister. My hand drifted to her back, settling on her hip as I pulled her closer. She leaned into me without hesitation.

The first round of za-cos hit the table—golden, sizzling, leaking cheese and salsa onto wax paper. Delgado took one bite and groaned loud enough to earn a glare from the old couple in the corner.