Page 37 of Single All the Way

A knock sounded at the door. Then it opened, and Luke walked in.

“Hey, gents,” he said to the group. “Sorry I’m late. The farm was record-setting busy today. We didn’t get the last family taken care of till almost seven thirty.”

“Tis the season,” Chance said in his friendly way. “Get your ass in here and take a load off.”

“Mighta left you a little chow,” West said.

Luke came over to Knox and me and peered into the pot of chili. “I could eat.”

I suspected that was an understatement. The guy worked his ass off on a normal day. The Saturday after Thanksgiving running a Christmas tree farm likely wasn’t a normal day.

“Help yourself.” I moved away from the food so he could dig in.

“We’re glad you joined us,” Knox said.

“Thanks,” Luke said as he set a wrapped box on the island, grabbed a bowl, and filled it. “Didn’t want to miss the presents.” He shot us a shit-eating grin that told me he might’ve gone the gag gift route like I had.

An hour later, the game on the TV was a blowout, the chili pot was empty, beverages were replenished, and we sat around the living room.

Chance checked his phone, undoubtedly ensuring his teenage daughter was still where she was supposed to be. “I’m ready for presents,” he said, telling me Samantha was behaving herself tonight, at least so far.

“You’re worse than a little kid,” West said.

“Who’s staying with your three tonight?” Luke asked the ex-military guy.

“I got a high school gal off the Tattler,” West replied. “Good references, loves kids.”

West was a burly badass I wouldn’t want to piss off, but he had a soft spot a mile wide for his three little girls. When his live-in girlfriend had dumped him and moved out a couple of months ago, he’d been more upset for his daughters than himself.

“Is that the Tatum girl?” Luke asked.

“Allison Tatum,” West confirmed.

“I saw her post,” Luke said. “Let me know how she does.”

“You’re not stealing my babysitter,” West said. “You got your built-in childcare, man.” His tone was good-natured but also adamant.

“My built-in childcare’s sixty-four years old with health issues,” Luke reminded him.

“How’s your dad doing?” I asked.

“Stubborn,” Luke said. “Hates not helping with the farm stuff, especially this time of year. He loves the holidays.”

“Grandma Berty always says getting old’s not for the fainthearted,” I said.

“I’m only in my forties, but I can tell that’s going to be true,” Knox said.

Chance grinned at him. “Good thing you’ve got a pretty,muchyounger wife to keep you young.”

“Jealous?” Knox shot back.

“Oh, hell no. Have you tried raising a teenager? Full-time contact sport that takes all my focus.” With that, Chance checked his phone again like a habit. “So far she’s still at the friend’s house she’s supposed to be at.”

Chance stood and went to the pile of wrapped gifts on the table between the kitchen and living room. He plucked one off, walked over to Knox, and tossed it on his lap. “Merry Christmas, old guy.”

Knox laughed. “I’m forty-three, asshole.”

“That box doesn’t look like it has a cane inside,” Max joked.

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