Page 67 of Love Me Fierce

“You want to help me?” I say, when what I really want is for Buck to untack himself so I can steal a few more minutes alone with Vivian.

“Yes,” she says in a kind of whisper-moan.

“Mom?” Mateo calls from the other side of the barn, followed by his fast footfalls.

Vivian jumps away from me, but not before I get a flash of her stormy eyes and parted lips. It’s a look of hunger mixed with a bit of wildness. Like she wants more too.

“We’re down here,” Vivian says, hurrying to meet Mateo who races up, chattering about the puppies and lemonade and the marshmallow pretzel house he built with Logan and Greta.

“And how many of those marshmallows did you eat?” Vivian asks with a laugh.

I lean out so they can see me.

“Hi Everett!” Mateo says, flashing me a grin.

“Hey, squirt.” I give Vivian a nod. “I’ve got this. You go ahead.”

Her brows knit together. “You sure?”

“Yep. I’ll meet you at the house.”

Mateo swings Vivian’s hand side to side while peering up at her. “Greta and Logan promised to build a fort with me after dinner.”

“Lucky you,” Vivian replies.

Mateo tugs on her hand. “Come see what I taught Poppy!”

“Who’s Poppy?”

“My favorite puppy. Mrs. Rumsey said I could name her.”

“Did she now?” Vivian shoots me a stern glance over her shoulder. I flash my palms and try to hold in my laughter.

Dinner isrowdy thanks to the added fun Greta and Logan seem to have getting Mateo wound up. Vivian spends half the time laughing and the other half reminding Matty of his manners and making sure he eats.

“I call rinsing!” Greta cries when they’re excused.

“Hey!” Logan protests. “It’s my turn to rinse.”

“Try harder, bruh. You gotta look alive or you won’t get anywhere in life.”

“I wanna help,” Mateo says, stuffing a bite of butter noodles into his mouth while slipping out of his chair.

Logan ruffles the top of his head. “Help me irritate Greta.”

Mateo’s narrow eyebrows scrunch together. “What’s irritate?”

“It means bother her,” Logan replies as he gathers a handful of plates.

“I heard that!” Greta says over the sound of running water from the kitchen.

“Thank you for dinner,” Vivian says to Mom and Dad.

“You’re welcome anytime,” Mom says.

Laughter from the kitchen carries into the dining room, Mateo’s mixed in. It’s such a simple thing, but no less powerful.

I help clear the last of the glasses while Mom gathers the linens and Dad brings in the last of the platters. “Who’s ready for a banana split?” he booms, to the immediate squeals of all three kids.

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