Page 43 of Wild Card
She yipped as if she understood me. Sugar gave a deep woof in agreement.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
It only occurred to me once I’d settled into bed with Banshee pressed up against one side, Loki on the other, and Taz nestledbetween my ankles while Sugar settled by the door like a good guard dog that Dalton had never said how he’d persuaded Rusty.
But damn was I glad he had.
CHAPTER 12
Dalton
“Hi, Mom.”I popped a quick kiss on her cheek while she gave the gravy a final stir. “Smothered pork chops? Yum.”
She brightened as she turned toward me. “Oh, good. You made it.”
“Of course.” I opened the apple-shaped cookie dish next to the sink and snagged a snickerdoodle. “Couldn’t miss out on your home cooking, could I?”
“Eating cookies will ruin your appetite,” she warned.
I took a big bite and shrugged. “More leftovers, then. Still a win.”
My nephew, Bodie, came in from the hallway. “Yeah, Grandma. More leftovers.”
He reached for the lid, and she swatted his hand. “I don’t think so.”
“But Uncle Dalton got one!”
My mother looked at me like,See what you did?The kid always did like to emulate me. I was hoping teenage moodiness would cure him of the hero worship, but apparently not.
“Sorry, man,” I said with a grin. “I’m a deputy, so I really can’t condone theft.”
“But you— That’s not—” He threw up his hands. “The world is unjust!”
“It sure is,” I agreed before popping the last bite of cookie into my mouth.
“Make yourselves useful,” Mom said, handing me a serving platter. “Put the pork chops on there. Bodie, grab the gravy boat.”
She put us to work carrying food out to the dining table. My sister, Camille, had already laid out dishes and silverware.
Dad was the last to join us, having to be coaxed into leaving the TV.
Mom tsked. “I swear, that man is more in love with the television than he ever was with me.”
“Blasphemy.” Dad kissed Mom’s pouting lips and dropped his hand to pat her butt on the sly. “I worship at the altar of Julia.”
“Gross,” Bodie mumbled under his breath.
“I think it’s sweet,” Krissy said.
Bodie rolled his eyes. “Youwouldthink that.”
“Bodie,” Camille said, exasperated. “Be polite. You’d be lucky to find that kind of love. We all would.”
I nudged Camille’s foot under the table in a show of support. She’d gotten divorced two years ago, and she was still hurting. She smiled faintly at me.
“Uncle Dalton isn’t looking for love,” Bodie said. “He never has a boyfriend. And Dad left you, so?—”
“Bodie,” I cut in. “How’s football going? When’s your next game?”
