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“Playing Scrabble,” Kip says without missing a beat. Saxon laughs, and Catie suddenly realizes what she’s asked and giggles.
My face grows lava hot. We’ve hardly gotten out of bed the whole weekend. Kip has made love to me numerous times, in multiple positions, leaving me drifting up somewhere above the clouds, bathed in warm sunshine.
Catie glances at me, sees me blushing, and smiles. “Where do Viking warrior Scrabble champions go when they die?”
“Don’t know,” I say.
“Vowel-halla.”
“Jesus.” Saxon dips a piece of bread in the oil. “Your jokes don’t improve with time.”
“I’d like to see you do better,” she scoffs.
“All right.” His eyes gleam. “I cheated on my girlfriend. When we were playing Scrabble, I was supposed to take four letters and I took five instead and won the game. Then I went upstairs and fucked her sister.” He grins and pops the bread in his mouth.
Kip coughs into his Sprite and wipes his mouth. “Nowthat’sa joke,” he says.
“Last week I picked up gonorrhea,” I tell them. “Best Scrabble game ever.”
That gives Catie a fit of the giggles. She points at Kip. “Your turn.”
“Why is it impossible to keep Oedipus from cheating at Scrabble?” he asks. “Because he’s always trying to look at his mother’s rack.”
It’s my turn to laugh. Saxon grins and says to a puzzled Catie, “It’s a Greek story. Oedipus killed his father and married his mother.”
“Oh.” She sends Kip a wry look. “Trust you to tell me a joke I don’t understand.”
“I was going to say one about wanting to play ‘clitoris’ but not being able to find it,” he says, “but I didn’t want to embarrass Alice.”
That makes us all laugh, and Saxon gets up to clear the plates. “Wasn’t the bread amazing?” he asks. “It was Catie’s first attempt at making it.”
“It was lovely,” I say, surprised. “Wow, well done you.”
“So tasty,” Kip adds, “and loved the rosemary on top.”
She flushes. “Thank you. I’ve never done much cooking, but Saxon’s been teaching me.”
“God help us all,” Kip says.
His brother gives him the finger, and Catie laughs. “He’s a lot better than me. But we’ve been watching cooking videos together and trying out some of the recipes.” She also gets to her feet and collects the empty bread board. “Back in a sec.” She follows him out.
I smile at Kip. “They seem happy.”
“I’ve never seen him like this,” he admits. “It’s cool. He deserves it.”
I study him, wanting to say that he deserves it too, but I can’t say that when it’s me who’s holding back from letting this develop into something more.
He took off his glasses when he sat down, and his brown eyes are thoughtful, contemplative. I lean forward and kiss him, long and lingering, and he slides his arm around me and kisses me back, his fingers skating across my shoulders, making me tingle.
“Put him down,” Saxon says, coming back in carrying a casserole dish, “you don’t know where he’s been.”
We part with a laugh, and he puts the dish in the center of the table and removes the lid. “Chicken chasseur,” he states, releasing a wonderful smell of onion, garlic, and red wine into the air.
“And mash,” Catie adds, returning with a big bowl of mashed potatoes and putting that beside it.
“It smells fantastic,” Kip tells her.
“It’s just a one-pot recipe,” she says modestly.
