Page 15

15

JACK

PANCAKES

I didn’t really think last night through when I told Bambie I’d take her back to her car. Obviously I couldn’t, since the kids were asleep by the time she was ready to leave, and I couldn’t leave them.

I told her she could take my car, and that I’d get it back from her another time, but she brushed me off and said she’d take a cab.

Just the thought of that sweet girl taking a cab had my stomach cramping, and so ensued a back and forth argument that eventually escalated to me offering to hire a car and driver to come and get her.

By that point in the evening, after the flirty back and forth and the fun arguments, it was getting really late and neither of us were actually making a move.

In the end, I tossed a pair of Kit’s sweatpants and a Rollin tank at her face and sent her to get changed. We put on a movie that wasn’t produced in an animated studio, and we fell asleep exactly where we were; on the couch, with our heads back against the cushions, and our legs stretched out in front of us.

When the twin boys woke at two and I had to rush in and resettle them before they woke everyone , I stumbled back to the living room to find Bambie stretched out along the couch with cute pursed lips and soft breath as she breathed deeply and dreamt.

I didn’t have the heart to wake her or ask her to move, so I grabbed a blanket, tucked her in, then I went to sleep in my own room .

I woke again at three to baby Emma whining, then at four to the twins again.

Fuck. My. Life.

How do these people do this every night?

By the time the sun peeks over the estate and my eyes refuse to open, I turn over to find baby Sarah, Evie’s youngest sister, curled up against my back as though she’s my big spoon.

Wild squeals of laughter ricochet from every corner of this damn house and have me groaning.

Shimmying away from Sarah and begging all the Gods that she remain asleep, I stumble to the bathroom, then downstairs to the kitchen. Stopping at the doorway before anyone sees me, I step back and watch Bambie work in my sister’s kitchen in a Rollin tank that makes my gut roll.

“Miss T.” Evie moves around her and stops at the cupboard that holds the mugs. “I’m having coffee. You want some?”

“Coffee?” Britt’s eyes narrow. “Coffee?”

“Uh-huh,” my niece answers confidently. “You want?”

Bambie stops flipping pancakes and turns to face Smalls front on. “But you’re eleven?”

“I’m actually twelve. I had my birthday.”

“Your mom and dad let you have coffee?”

“Uh-huh.”

No, they don’t! I laugh silently. She has hot chocolate.

“Last chance, Miss T. You want some?”

“I’m not sure I should let you have coffee on my watch, Evie. Your Uncle Jack will kill me if you’re fibbing. Kids going wild on caffeine doesn’t sound like something he wants today.”

“But we don’t snitch, Miss T. In this family, we never snitch.”

Bambie’s eyes narrow. “No. I’m not comfortable letting you have coffee. Sorry. Go have some juice, the sugar will hype you up almost as much, then we can drown our pancakes in syrup and that’ll get you the rest of the way.”

“But I want coffee.”

Britt points her spatula. “And I don’t want to get in trouble for giving an eleven-year-old coffee, so…” She smiles victoriously when Evie turns on her heels and stomps in my direction.

Grumbling about being twelve, Evie doesn’t expect to be swept up into my arms as soon as she clears the entryway. Spinning her around and pressing my hand over her mouth to silence her squeals, she laughs and kicks out and throws an elbow back into my stomach .

“Nice try, troublemaker.”

She bites down on my palm and has me swinging my arm away. “You little turd. That hurt!”

Giggling, she becomes dead weight in my arms. “Morning, Uncle Jack. I love you.”

I drop her unceremoniously onto the couch. “Morning, trouble. I love you, too. Even when you’re a smartass to my friends.”

Sitting up and pushing wild curls from her eyes, she grins and gives me a glimpse of the grown-up Evie to come. She’s not a toddler anymore.

“Don’t mind me, I was just testing her. She passed.”

Frowning, I sit down beside her. “She passed?”

“Uh-huh. I thought she was gonna give in to peer pressure for a second there. She almost did, but she found her spine.”

“You’re a real shit, you know that?”

She flashes a cheeky grin. “I’m just testing her for you, Jack. Gotta make sure she’s good enough.”

“My name is Uncle Jack, and good enough for what?”

“For you, silly. If she’s going to be my aunty, then she has to know how to keep me straight. We all know I need the guidance. The guys in this family are marshmallows, so it’s up to the women to take charge.”

I force a laugh to cover the cramping in my stomach. “First of all, you’re trouble, Evelyn. Not even I can keep you straight.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s literally what I just said! Were you even listening?”

“Second of all, no. She’s your teacher, that’s it. You already have enough aunties. This family does not need more women.”

“So why’d she stay here last night, then?”

“Because–”

“And why’d she stay at your house that time?”

“What time?”

“That time she yelled at you.”

Fuccckkkk. “You saw that?”

“Of course.” She rolls her eyes. “The whole world saw. You guys were loud.”

“You haven’t said anything to her about that, have you?”

“No. That would be embarrassing, and girls have to stick together.”

“Jesus, Smalls. How old are you again?”

She rolls her eyes for the third time. “Not old enough for coffee, but old enough to chug syrup… apparently. ”

The older kids filter into the living room, then the toddlers come in soon behind, and as each kid joins us, the noise level rises exponentially.

Britt is yet to come into the living room, but she has to know everyone’s awake, so I don’t bother hiding out any longer. Tucking Smalls under my arm just like I did yesterday when Brad the Bore was grabbing at Bambie’s face, I lead my expansive and noisy family into the large kitchen.

As soon as our eyes meet, she stops and points the spatula. “Did she ask you for coffee? Because she asked me, and I said no.” Britt’s unsure eyes study mine. “That was the right answer, right? I’m pretty sure she’s too young for coffee.”

“Yeah, you’re good.” I squeeze Evie to stop her giggles. “She was just being a turd. What she meant to ask for was hot chocolate.”

“Oh, right.” Turning, Bambie studies the kitchen. “I can make hot chocolate if you want. That’s easy.”

“No, it’s fine.” I shove Evie forward. “She can get it herself. She’s been doing it since she was four.” I look toward the ever-growing stack of pancakes. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine. I was hungry, and I didn’t want cold pizza for breakfast. It only takes two minutes to whip up a batch.”

I look toward the counter, to the large mixing bowl and whisk. “You made them from scratch?”

“Hmm?”

“You made pancakes with flour and milk and stuff?”

Her brows pull low with curiosity. “Yeah…?”

“Oh my God!” Evie whoops excessively. “She made them from scratch, Uncle Jack!”

“Is that a problem?”

“No! Not a problem, it’s cool.”

“I’ll clean up my mess.”

“No, it’s fine. And the older girls will clean up the mess.”

Bean’s glaring eyes snap to mine. “That’s not fair! I didn’t tease.”

“Kincaid! Miss T made you breakfast. You’ll eat it. You’ll tell her it was delicious – even if it’s a lie. Then you’ll clean the damn dishes.”

“You shouldn’t say damn,” she grumbles. When I purse my lips and glare back, she rolls her eyes. “Fine, we’ll clean the damn dishes.”

Fuck. Why did my family have to breed such smartasses? This is all Kincaid blood. Nothing to do with me.

Helping me set the toddlers at the table, Britt delivers platters of bacon and pancakes, drops bottles of syrup, then she hovers around the table and watches on as the next ten minutes of our lives is like a scene out of Animal Planet: Africa.

I’m certain there are actual elephants trumpeting and lions growling. The smaller kids turn to sticky messes within minutes, and the table turns into a hodgepodge of mixed food and greasy bacon fat flung between cousins.

Just like Britt, I hover and cut pancakes into bite-sized pieces, ration syrup, and watch as the platter of pancakes is replenished every couple minutes as Bambie moves back and forth between dining room and kitchen.

I feel bad that she isn’t eating, that she’s basically working on a Saturday, but I’m not sitting or eating either, and I can’t deny that she’s helping.

Just as quickly as the kids sat and started eating, it all ends; plates are empty, cups are turned over, cutlery is sticky because the kids alternated between fingers and utensils, and the tablecloth is stained from these animals using it to wipe their faces instead of the wipes I provided.

“You’re all pigs.”

Laughing, Bambie stands at the doorway with a hot cup of coffee in her hands and long hair dangling down her back. “That was a lot of pancakes.”

“Give me five minutes, Bambie. I’ll get these guys sorted, put a movie on, then I’ll make you breakfast. We can eat in silence as soon as the TV goes on.”

“No, it’s fine. I cooked extras for you. Your plate’s in the oven. It’s still warm. But I better get going.”

Stopping with a twin suspended halfway between the booster chair and the floor, I frown and try to dismiss the twinge in my gut. “You’re gonna go?”

Nodding, she sips lazily. “Yeah, I really need to go. I have stuff to do, and my brothers will come searching soon.”

Laughing again, I set Luke on his feet and pat his butt to move him along. Smugness, mixed with a little terror, washes through my body at the thought of Alex and Scotch Turner knocking on my front door in search of their little sister.

I legitimately talked shit with them about the hot chick I fucked at the club. Thank God I didn’t say her name – seeing as I didn’t know it.

“God forbid those guys come looking.”

Shaking her head, she laughs and turns to move back to the kitchen. “I don’t know how you know my brothers, but I’m not getting in the middle. It’s probably in your best interest to not tell them about… what we did. I’ll ne ver volunteer that information. So if they find out, that’s on you.” Placing her mug in the sink, she turns back and smiles. “I’m going to get changed. I’ll leave your sister’s clothes in the hamper, is that cool?”

“You can just take them. We have a million of those shirts.”

She scoffs. “You couldn’t pay me enough to go home in a Rollin gym tank. Even if it’s a girls top. But thanks anyway.”

Walking toward me, she passes close enough that I feel her hair on my arm, but then she’s gone, picking up her school clothes and bag, and heading down the hallway.

Five minutes later, she’s back in the same school teacher outfit I’ve dreamed about more times than I’ll ever admit.

Dropping her cell in her bag, she looks up with a beautiful smile. “I called a cab. It’s fine!” she adds as I open my mouth to argue. “It’s cool. It’s not three a.m. and I know where I am. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“I can drive you back to your car.”

“No, it’d take longer to load all those kids into the van than it’d take to walk.” She places a soft hand on my forearm and sends tingles racing through my chest. “Thanks for bailing me out last night. I appreciate it.”

“I’d argue that a grown-up date with Brad might’ve been more fun than babysitting, but Brad the Bore is never the better option, so you’re welcome.”

Smiling, she squeezes my arm. “You definitely offered me a better night.”

“Aww, shucks, Miss T. That’s what all the pretty girls say.”

Laughing, her eyes flip between mine and Evie’s as Evie watches us, owl-eyed.

Shrugging, Britt’s lips lift into a tiny smirk. “Yeah. Well… Anyway. I’ll see you at school on Monday, Evie.”

“Okay. You can call me Smalls, by the way. If you wanna. People only call me Evie when I’m in trouble.”

“Which is a lot,” I volunteer.

Nodding, Britt ignores the elbow Evie slams into my ribs. “Okay, I’ll work on it. See you Monday. Thanks for a fun time, kids. I’ll see you around, Jack.”

I nod.

A small part of me wants to stop her, maybe even ask for her number, but Annie’s restraining head against my hip has me reconsidering. Instead of stopping her, I hold the front door open and watch her get into the cab.

After the gates close and lock behind her, I shake my head and go back to the kitchen chaos .

I clean everyone up and send them all to the living room with chopped fruit, then I go back to the kitchen to find my own special stack of pancakes and bacon in the oven.

The heat is turned off, so they just sit in the residual warmth, but the smiley face she made with blueberries has me grinning like a fool.

I consider going to see her, perhaps asking my sisters where she lives, since they dropped her off that time, but I don’t.

Instead, I wait for everyone to get home, to roll in and tease me about having a girl over, then I have a shower, pull on my hat, and drive to the cemetery.

That fuckin’ elephant’s back in the room, and I feel guilty for smiling at a girl that isn’t Steph.