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“Dad senses,” he says. “Now get your butt to bed before my spankin’ hand gets twitchy.”
“I think I might enjoy that,” I say with a smirk.
I yelp as Sawyer lifts me off the couch and tosses me over his shoulder. His hand comes down firmly on my backside.
“Lucky for you, little sister, twitchy hands run in the family.”
Chapter Twelve
Sawyer
I’m about to punch down a ball of cinnamon-raisin bread dough when my phone blares with my mom’s assigned ringtone.
Hey, Mom.” I tuck my phone between my cheek and my shoulder so I can continue working the dough. “How’s Bermuda?”
“Hi, honey.” she says, with that sing-song cadence that I’ve come to find means she’s on her third glass of wine. “Today’s actually our last day on the island. Sorry I didn’t call on Christmas, by the way. I’ve completely lost track of the days.”
I can count on one hand the number of times my mom has remembered to call on Christmas, or on my birthday. Considering Christmas was only three days ago, today’s call could technically be considered an improvement. Noelle says her dad’s better about keeping in perfunctory contact, but she’s convinced his secretary has a lot to do with that. Seeing as how he didn’t call or text while he was in Bermuda, I’m inclined to agree.
“No worries,” I tell her out of habit. “How’s Dick?”
“Richardis fine,” she says. “He was stuck in bed with a stomach bug for a few days, but he’s better now. Sadly, it’s looking like the big New Year’s Eve party we were planning isn’t going to happen. Apparently, a pipe burst at the venue, and the caterer’s assistant has mono. It’s been a complete shit show.”
“Damn, that sucks.” I slap the ball of dough against the counter a few times, then sprinkle some more flour over it.
“How’s your dad?” she asks. “Are you still at Maple Ridge?”
“Yeah, I’m still here.”
“What’ve you guys been up to?”
“Same old same old,” I tell her, trying to sound casual. “I’ve taken over the kitchen. Dad’s fixing up the old barn for events. Frida took a few days off, so Noelle’s been a big help at the front desk.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line.
“Noelle’s there?” Mom asks.
Shit. My mom has no idea I invited Noelle to Maple Ridge.
“Uh, yeah,” I say, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal. “I thought, since her dad wasn’t gonna be around, I’d invite her to spend Christmas here.”
“That’s really nice of you, Sawyer,” she says. I swear I catch a hint of something off about her tone. “How did I raise such a sweet boy?”
You didn’t,is the response that comes to mind.
“It’s nothing,” I tell her.
She rambles on for a few minutes about her trip, then abruptly asks, “Did you say your dad's been fixing up the old barn?"
"Yeah, why?"
Another long pause.
"Is Colton there?” she asks. “Can I talk to him?"
"Uhh." I happen to know my dad’soutside, shoveling the front walk. Though there’s a non-zero chance he’d rather swallow glass than speak to my mother. "Hang on a sec."
I wipe my hands on a dish cloth, grab my boots, and head out to the lobby. Frida tells me to slow down as I breeze past her. I poke my head out the entrance door, where Noelle is helping my dad sprinkle salt onto the walkway.
