Page 11 of Three Reckless Words

The fuckingwedding cake.

It’s there, smack in the middle of the table, complete with royal icing and pink and purple flowers and a miniature bride and groom discarded off to one side. For some unholy reason, all three kids have a plate heaped with large half-eaten slices.

I have to rub my eyes.

Colt might be stupid, but there’s no denying his luck.

Only my son crashes a honeymoon and winds up eating wedding cake. What a life he has.

Correction,had.

Seeing this, his ass is grounded until Christmas, and that’s almost six months away. Hell, maybe I’ll put him under house arrest until he’s eighteen, because what the ever-loving fuck is going on?

He gives me a pained smile and pushes his plate toward me. “Uh, Dad? You want some?”

Kill. Me. Now.

I open my mouth, trying to find the right words, while the woman—Winnie, she said—sidles around behind the kids. Sheputs a hand gently on Colt and Evans’ shoulders like she’s protecting them.

From what? Me?

I don’t like where this is going.

Look, I’ve never been known for my bottomless patience when someone pushes my buttons, and tonight my diplomacy well is pretty damn dry.

“Don’t be too mad at them,” she says softly. “They screwed up big-time, yeah, but doesn’t everyone when they’re young?”

I realize I’m scowling, staring through her, so I try to moderate my expression.

She’s a customer, you dolt. Don’t make this worse. If she’s willing to let it ride with a stern warning, be grateful. Get them home and then you can deal with Colt.

Preferably, without a review or a lawyer up your ass.

“I gave them the cake,” she continues.

I draw a deep breath, then another, shaky confusion slashing through my anger.

“Why would you—can I ask why?”

“Oh, well… I laid into them when I first found out. I was upset, but I felt bad. Plus, I figured it would keep them out of more trouble.” She eyes the cake sadly. “It’s not like I can eat the whole thing alone, anyhow.”

Alone?

I don’t follow.

Whenever her new groom emerges from wherever he’s hiding, she won’t have to eat the whole thing herself, I’m sure. Also, she didn’t need to reward my boy and his co-conspirators for being absolute hellraisers.

“Thanks, Winnie,” Colt says, grinning up at her. She returns the smile, though I notice the expression doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“He tells me you’re his dad?” she says, looking at me again. “And that you’ll take Briana and Evans home?”

“I will,” I growl, giving Evans and Briana, Colt’s almost-crush, a glare. “And I’ll certainly be telling their parents what happened here.”

“Dad!Not cool.” Colt stabs his cake with his fork.

“I’ll tell you what’s cool as soon as we get to the car, young man,” I warn him, and he falls silent again, still tearing at his cake like he wants to murder it.

“Oh, it’s fine. I told them off plenty.” Winnie leans against the counter now, her slim arms folded. Through the open door to the bathroom, I see a pile of white that looks like a wedding dress. “They’re just kids. No need to ruin their life.”

---