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So he found himself smiling as he crossed the lawn and climbed the steps to the front porch. Wayne had said to come right in, but Spencer couldn’t do that. He knocked and Clarissa opened the door a moment later, so she had to be standing there waiting for him.
“Hey,” she said, and she actually smiled at him.
“Hey, yourself.” He stepped forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. “How’s your mama tonight?”
“She’s doing really well.” Clarissa backpedaled away from him, and he realized he shouldn’t have greeted her like a true Texan. “C’mon in. You’re lucky, because Will had a pretty good day.”
“Did he now?” Spencer gave her a smile and faced the kitchen, as that was definitely the heart of the farm. He saw Wayne moving around the kitchen, and he even saw Travis carrying a big bowl to the table. The cowboy turned and came into the living room, a huge smile on his space.
“Good to see you, Spence. How did the moving go this morning?”
“Just fine.” Spencer grinned at him and shook his hand. Grumpy? Spencer had no idea what Clarissa was talking about.
“Don’t loiter out there,” Wayne practically growled, and Clarissa turned toward the kitchen. Spencer followed her, with Travis coming in last.
“Will,” he immediately bellowed. “There’s smoke pouring out of the oven!” He ran toward it and yanked open the door. “I asked you to watch it.”
“I was watching it.”
“You were watching it?” Travis demanded. “How is this watching it?” He tossed the pan of pizza on the stovetop, and all Spencer could do was stare.
“Chris texted me, and he seriously asked for tomorrow off.” Will glared back at Travis. “It’s not even burnt. Something just dripped onto the bottom of the oven. My word.”
“What about Chris?” Wayne asked.
“He can’t have every Sunday off,” Will said, whirling to his father. “You have to say something to him. He doesn’t listen to me.”
“It’s your job to make him listen to you, son,” Wayne said. “Everyone has to work two Sundays a month.”
“I know that, Daddy,” Will said, and Spencer saw what Clarissa meant by grouchy. He had no idea where to look next. Travis practically had his head down inside the hot oven, and Will and Wayne now stood toe-to-toe, as if they might come to blows. Clarissa massaged the bridge of her nose, and Chrissy sat at the dining room table like this shouting and smoke was normal near-dinner behavior.
Then Lee came in through the garage, and his hands looked liked he’d dipped them in tar. “Well, the mower is a complete bust,” he yelled. Spencer was starting to think yelling was a normal indoor voice for these men.
“What?” Wayne asked. “That thing has a warranty.”
“Then call it in,” Lee griped at him as he turned on the sink with his elbow. “Because it literally just spewed oil everywhere.”
“Don’t wash your hands here,” Travis said. “There’s food in that sink, Lee.”
“Calm—what?” Lee looked at his brother as nearly black water streamed from his hands and into the sink.
“Do you not have eyes?” Travis yelled as the back door opened again. This time, Ford came through it, and he had a dog with him that looked like it had enjoyed a great roll in the mud.
“Dad, Queenie got into that swampy spot. Should I just hose ‘er off in the back yard?”
Before anyone could answer him, the canine shook all over, and everyone—including Spencer and Clarissa—went into an uproar.
