Page 71 of Cherish

“Of course we’ll have you. Any friend of Hudson is a friend of ours.”

Behind me, Flint makes a slight gagging sound—which stops, thankfully, the second I stomp on his foot.

“I’m sorry there’s not enough room in the house for all of you,” Arnst says. “But we’ve got a bunkhouse we use when we hire extra help for harvesting season. You’re welcome to stay there.”

“Anything is fine,” Hudson tells him with a smile.

“Yes,” I agree. “We’re just grateful that you’ve got room for us at all.”

“Don’t be silly, Hudson. You won’t be staying in the bunkhouse.” Maroly pats his shoulder as she walks by him toward the kitchen. “You’ll sleep in the guest room, like you did last time you were here.”

“Of course he will,” Flint mutters.

“The guest room sounds amazing. The bed is so comfortable in there.” Hudson shoots Flint an evil smile as he says the last, and it’s all I can do to keep from bursting into laughter again.

“Now, Maroly and I will have dinner on the table in just a few minutes.” Arnst points in both directions. “In the meantime, there’s a bathroom at the end of that hallway. You can take turns freshening up while we get everything ready for you.”

I start to give Smokey back to Hudson—freshening up sounds like heaven right about now—but she wakes up before I can actually shift her into his arms. I freeze as her big purple eyes blink open once, then twice. I brace myself for her to lose it completely, but when she doesn’t so much as cry out, I figure she must be okay with me holding her and decide to try to rock her back to sleep.

Which might go down in the books as the worst mistake I’ve ever made. And I’ve made some doozies.

When Smokey’s eyes blink open a third time and she sees my face directly above hers, all hell breaks loose. She lets out a scream that shatters my eardrums along with, I’m pretty sure, the sound barrier. And then she really loses it—hissing and clawing as she throws herself out of my arms.

I make the mistake of trying to catch her—the last thing I want to do is drop any kind of baby, even a pissed-off umbra one—but that only makes her angrier. Because she whirls on me with a snarl and sinks her jagged little teeth into my hand.

“Smokey, no!” Hudson growls, sliding a finger between her mouth and my skin and popping her off. “We don’t bite.”

She turns on him with a snarl, then realizes who it is who’s holding her, and the snarl turns immediately into a coo. She throws herself against him and crawls up his chest until she’s wrapped gently around his neck.

“Are you all right?” Hudson asks, reaching for my hand.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, because I am. Smokey’s tiny baby teeth didn’t even break the skin, though I’m pretty sure she tried. My pride is hurt, though. I know the old Smokey never liked me, but I thought I’d have a chance with this new Baby Smokey.

But apparently her hatred of me runs deep in her DNA. The little turkey.

“Are you sure?” he asks, lifting my hand up so he can get a better look at it.

“I’m positive.” I pull away. “It’s not even bruised.”

“Still—” He breaks off as Smokey gently smacks her hands against his cheeks, chittering away at him as she does.

“We don’t bite, Smokey,” he reiterates as he bends over and puts her on the ground. “And we especially don’t bite Grace.”

Smokey lets out another high-pitched screech the second he lets go of her. Only this time, instead of biting, she flings herself on the floor and starts sobbing hysterically.

Hudson looks at me, horrified. “What do I do?” he demands.

“Why are you asking me?” I demand right back.

“Put her back in her backpack, obviously,” Eden says, speaking up for the first time since she introduced herself to Maroly. “She needs to go to time-out for a while and think about what she did.”

When we all turn to look at her, surprised, she shrugs. “Why do you look so shocked? I’ve got cousins.”

We all crack up again—including Hudson—which only makes Smokey throw a bigger tantrum.

“All right, then, Tiola. May I borrow Smokey’s backpack?” Hudson half yells to be heard over the umbra’s caterwauls.

“I’ll take care of it,” Tiola says, picking up a squirming Smokey and sliding her expertly into the backpack and buckling her in. This obviously isn’t Smokey’s first temper tantrum. “I’m pretty used to her fits by now.”

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