Page 47 of I Knead You Tonight

“Sully has? Really?”

I nod. “He’s been watching Riker for me lately. The kid loves him, it keeps me from having to ask Winston to drive to Doris a million times a day, and it gives Sully something to do, so it works out for everyone.”

“Except Doris,” Wren points out.

“Well, not really. Now she’s free to help Porter when he moves here, and I’m certain he’ll pay her a hell of a lot more than I ever could, especially if he’s looking for a live-in nanny.”

“Fair point.” She pushes off the stool she’s been occupying. “We better get to work before my dad comes out and scolds us for not slaving away.”

“Simon would never.”

“Simon definitely would,” says the man himself, coming through the back hallway. “He knows you have a lot of work to do before the lunch rush, so you better get your asses in gear.”

“Dad, don’t refer to yourself in third person. That went out of style in the nineties.”

“To be fair, I don’t think referring to yourself in the third person was ever cool,” I point out.

“Yeah, what Drew said,” Wren tells her father.

“How about you do whatSimon saysand get your rears to work.”

“You’re so bossy,” his daughter grumbles.

“Well, Iamthe boss,” he calls after her, feeling damn proud of his back-to-back dad jokes. He turns to me. “I was going to warn you to never have children, but that ship has clearly sailed.”

I laugh. “You can say that again.”

“I was going to warn you—”

I sigh. “If this is your ploy to get me to go work, you’re succeeding.”

He grins. “Good, but before you scamper off, how’s your car coming along?”

“You know, you’re the second person to ask about that today. I have no clue. I’d have to ask your son. He seems to have taken over all care for it.”

“Huh.” Simon grunts, hands going to his hips. “He keeps surprising me lately. Almost reminds me of the Winston before the accident, back when he had dreams and aspirations.”

“What happened to him?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. He just sort of…gave up. I tried telling him he was too young to be so old, but he doesn’t seem to care.”

“Did he do any therapy after the accident?”

“Sure. He had lots of physical therapy.”

“No, I meant like”—I tap the side of my head—“that kind of therapy.”

Simon shakes his head, frowning. “No. I think he uses his camera and the weed for that.” He laughs when my brows shoot up. “Yes, Drew, I’m aware my son is a stoner. He probably gets that from me.”

“You telling me you were a stoner? Being a teen in the seventies?” I gasp mockingly. “Oh, Simon, say it ain’t so!”

“How dare you bring up my old age.”

“Pfft. Old or not, I wouldn’t kick you outta bed.” I wink.

He laughs at me, shaking his head. “Get to work before I put you on dishes.”

“One step closer to kitchen duty!” I call after him.

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