Page 44 of Tempting the Goalie
“He made it home especially for you,” Becket, my other brother, says as he walks over to us. “Let me in here,” he states, moving Daddy out of the way.
“You’ve grown-up, Bean,” Becket notes.
“Seriously, I’ve been grown-up for a while now. Are you insinuating I gained weight?” I ask.
My brother releases me from the hug and takes a step back, looking alarmed with his hands up. “I didn’t mean anything like that.”
“Sure, you didn’t,” my youngest brother Asher goads, always the instigator. He’s the youngest of my four brothers and the biggest troublemaker of us all. Asher walks over to me. “Welcome home, Bean.”
“Thanks guys. Where’s Phoenix?” I ask.
“Working,” they answer almost unanimously.
I nod. That makes sense. My eldest brother has been working himself to the bone for the last eight years, ensuring his microbrewery does well.
“Come to the kitchen. You must be hungry,” Eric invites. He’s five years older than me and owns a bakery in town. He also has a small bakery on our property close to the orchards that does well.
I follow Eric to the kitchen and Daddy and my two other brothers follow.
“We’re all hungry,” Daddy says.
“Good thing you guys have Eric to feed you all.” I laugh.
“It’s not a joke. We would have gone hungry otherwise,” Becket says. He isn’t wrong, growing up with four older brothers taught me how much guys like to eat. Daddy picked up in the kitchen after Mom left, but he wasn’t very creative. He was also working a lot. I remember eating spaghetti and meatballs for dinner for a year straight.
“Don’t I know it,” I agree with Becket, who is a police officer here in Val-Du-Lys. He always said he would leave our small town, but instead he followed in Daddy’s footsteps and went to the police academy.
We head into the kitchen where a bunch of pots simmer on the stove. “I told Phoenix I’d make dinner if he got you. Seems like the dude forgot,” Eric says.
“No, he offered. I took a taxi with Luc,” I say with nonchalance. There’s a vegetable platter on the island and I grab a carrot and pop it into my mouth.
“How is Chabot doing? Heard the kid won the championship,” Asher says.
“He’s good, and I don’t think you can call him a kid with you being only eighteen months my elder,” I remind.
Asher chuckles. “Respect your elders, Bean.”
“Cut the crap,” I retort.
He walks over to me and gives me a noogie on my head, messing up my hair.
“Are you ever going to grow up?” I complain.
Eric, Becket, and Daddy answer with a bignoas Phoenix walks into the house through the sliding back door into the kitchen.
“No, Asher isn’t ready to grow up,” Phoenix says, eyeing Asher.
“Someone has to be irresponsible around here,” Asher feigns. “Besides, I’m only twenty-three.”
“Only,” Daddy says. “I was a police officer at that age and a dad for that matter.”
“Well, we aren’t all built that way,” Asher responds.
“So, what’s for dinner?” I say to break the tension, as Phoenix walks over and kisses the top of my head.
“Good to see you, Bean,” he mutters.
“Thanks, you too.”
