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“Cash, baby,” Mom yells. “Why don’t you load the dishes tonight?” Because that’s not at all obvious.

“Sure thing.”

I load the dishwasher the exact way I know she likes it, dry my hands, and make my way back out to the dining room—only to be met with a roomful of shit-eating grins.I’m in trouble.

“Cash,” Paige starts, puppy-dog eyes in full effect, “I totally forgot that we have to go out of town this weekend. Is there any way you could watch the boys?”

“I would, but I have work all weekend,” Mom throws out.

I scrub a hand over my face. I know a setup when I see one. “Sure, Paige, I’ll keep the boys.”

“Great!” she exclaims. “Oh, and one more thing . . . think you could take them for a haircut?” Her smirk is now every bit as devilish as her husband's.

“Mmm. Sure thing.”

“Uncle Cash, we gets to meet your girlfriend?” Preston asks. The twins were so quiet throughout dinner, so focused on their food. I figured they weren't listening. They're like little sponges.

“Not my girlfriend, bud, but yeah, you’ll get to meet her.”

He turns to Lucas, and they start doing that weird twin thing where they communicate with blinks and nods—Lord only knows what they’re saying.

“Yes,ma’am, Mrs. Mills, I’m so glad you reached out,” I say into my phone.

“When would you be available to take measurements, Mr. Carson?” she asks, proper as can be.

I toggle over to my calendar app before replying. “Well, I’m about to pick up my nephews to keep for the weekend, so how about . . .” I scan my schedule, just to double-check. She doesn’t seem like the type of woman to forgive mistakes. “Tuesday afternoon around three thirty?”

“I suppose that will work. Do you have a pen and paper on hand to take down my address?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m ready when you are.” I jot down the street number and name before ending the call with the promise to confirm her appointment at least twenty-four hours in advance. I’m already regretting giving this lady a card, but work is work, and work leads to money.

Not to mention, she seems like the kind of lady who knows people, and that could be very beneficial for Carson’s Custom. So I’ll grin and bear it.

Once Mrs. Mills is added to my schedule, I check the time and gather up my stuff to head home. It’s just after lunch, but Jake and Paige will be by around two with the boys, so I’d better make sure the house is kid-ready.

Sure enough, at two o’clock on the dot, my doorbell starts buzzing. And buzzing. And buzzing. There’s just something about kids and doorbells.

I unlatch the door, and before anyone can say a word, the twins are wrapped around me, trying to wrestle me to the floor. “Uncle Cashmere, we stronger, we gonna beat you!” Preston shouts, warrior-voice in full effect.

“Yeah, prepare to be defeasted!” Lucas growls, backing his brother.

I wrap an arm around each of their waists, hoisting them over my shoulders. “Bud, I think you meant defeated.”

“That’s what I saids!” Lucas protests.

“Boys, let your uncle breathe. Y’all have all weekend. Now head on inside,” Paige admonishes as she walks up from the car, a blanket and stuffed animal bundled in each arm. A few seconds later, I hear the trunk slam, and Jake walks around from the back of their SUV, wheeling two small suitcases behind him.

“You can just leave those by the front door. I’ll get them settled in a bit,” I say, gesturing toward the pint-sized luggage.

“Will do. Y’all got big plans? You know, other than their haircuts?”

“I swear, I oughta knock that smirk right off your face.”

“Yeah, okay. All talk, baby brother. For real, though, y’all have fun.”

“But not too much fun,” Paige says. “And don’t forget bedtime is at eight. Please make sure they brush their teeth?—”

“Mom!” Preston whines, “Uncle Cash knows dis stuff.”