Page 62 of John Wilder Gets Schooled
“Hi, Gracie,” I said.
She leaped off Cash’s lap and twirled toward me, sending the frog flying. She was wearing a sparkly purple skirt. Cash was wearing a matching tiara. Gracie hugged me. “Hello, Mr. Smith! I’m going to make you a bracelet too!”
She gave my legs another squeeze and ran off inside.
“Thanks for giving her the beading set,” Wilder said, sliding into place next to me. “She loves it.” He held out his arms so I could see the array of bracelets he was wearing. The pink and purple beads were a stark contrast to the black ink of his tattoo.
“It seemed like she could do with some cheering up,” I said. Gracie had come back from her grandparents’ tired and out of sorts last weekend, so I’d given her a spare beading set I had lying around when the guys came over for spaghetti night on Sunday. It had cheered her up immediately, but it had been the small, grateful smile I got from Wilder that had filled my chest with warmth and stayed with me long after everyone had gone home.
“Well, I still appreciate it,” Wilder said. “Saved me from dealing with a meltdown.”
“She seems happier today,” I said. “But then, kids’ moods can change like the weather.”
Wilder gave me a wry smile. “Don’t I know it. An hour ago she was upset because she had to sit still while I brushed her hair. But now? There’s a unicorn party and she’s getting to eat cake later, so she’s living the dream.”
“Daddy! The goose is here!” Gracie’s excited squeal echoed through the house, and a second later she appeared at the door, eyes wide. “Mr. Merritt brought hisgoose!” she repeated, just in case everyone in a three-block radius hadn’t heard her the first time.
A second later Bobby strolled through the door, his cowboy boots echoing against the wood of the back porch. Lucille was back under his arm. “Hey, y’all,” he said with a nod. “Happy birthday, you two.”
He pulled a couple of envelopes out of the back pocket of his shorts and held them out to the twins. Cash’s eyes went wide and he glanced over at Chase.
Chase stepped forward and took the envelopes and handed one to Cash, who looked between the envelope and Bobby and muttered a quiet “Thanks” before scurrying back to his seat.
Chase opened his envelope and pulled out a card, and when he opened it, his mouth dropped open. I caught a glimpse of a couple of bills before he slammed it shut and shoved it into his pocket, his face splitting into a wide grin.
“Didn’t know what to get you, and kids always need cash, right?” Bobby said gruffly.
Lucille honked her agreement.
I noticed Cash’s head jerk up when he thought he heard his name. He caught Chase’s eye and they had a silent conversation, and then Cash ducked his head and opened his own gift. When he lifted his head, there was the ghost of a smile there, which was about as enthusiastic as Cash got.
Bobby jabbed a thumb in Chase’s direction. “I also got this one a bike. My cousin pulled it out of the creek last week. Just needed a new chain and some tires.” He narrowed his crazy eyes at Chase. “So no more running late for your shifts!”
“Shit,” Chase said. “Thanks, Bobby!”
I’d never heard him sound so genuinely pleased in all the time I’d known him.
“The people of this good town need their coffee!” Bobby said, and everyone was too polite to contradict him. Because coffee? Sure. But coffee the way Chase made it? Nobody needed that.
“Hey,” Wilder said to me. “You mind giving me a hand in the kitchen?”
“Sure,” I said and escaped inside with him.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, knocking his hip against mine as we stood together at the counter. I was buttering rolls, and he was doing something with the meat that involved prodding it with a pair of tongs. Since it was already soaking in a tub of marinade, I had no ideawhat, but it was probably important.
I stacked the rolls on a serving platter. “Thanks for asking me.”
Wilder grinned. “I mainly asked you for your potato salad.”
“I’d say you’re lying, but I do make an amazing potato salad, so I’m not even offended,” I said.
Wilder laughed and then rested his hand lightly against the small of my back for the briefest moment. It was so unexpected and out of place that I thought I’d imagined it. I also thought for a second that maybe he hadn’t even registered doing it, but his movements faltered when he turned his attention back to whatever meat magic he was working, and I figured that was when he’d realized. Of all the touches we’d shared it was basically nothing—except context was everything. This wasn’t a predetermined sex session. This was Wilder’s kitchen, in a house full of people who could walk in any time. It was casually intimate in ways that sex wasn’t, and it took my breath away.
I thought again about what Dallas had said.
“So, you know when my brother was here last week,” I said, concentrating on stacking the rolls.
“Yeah?”
