Page 125 of Here With Me

“Tripp!” Momma scolds.

“Yeah, but imagine her tongue skills.” Waylon sticks his out, then waggles it.

“You're two seconds from eatin’ on the porch with your brothers,” Dad scolds.

“My apologies, Fisher. They seem to have lost their manners and minds,” Momma says.

“None needed, ma'am. Reminds me a lot of the young bull riders I traveled with.”

“You'd think ours were raised out with the pigs.” Momma glares at Tripp and Waylon, who quickly stuff their mouths with potatoes.

“Wait till there's grandchildren,” Gramma Grace speaks up with humor in her voice. “Those boys will realize soon enough to watch their mouths around toddlers.”

“Ew. Don't put the image of them reproducin’ in my head.” I shiver.

“Oh, I cannot wait. Five grown adults and no grandchildren yet...” Momma side-eyes me, and I glance around to see who she's talking to.

“Don't look at me. The twins are almost thirty. Harass them to settle down first.”

Waylon chuckles. “Wilder would get a vasectomy if the doctor would allow it.”

“I hope he ends up with ten kids, all like him,” I say.

“Is it dessert time?”

Speak of the devil.

Wilder charges into the house with his empty plate in hand as if he didn't get in trouble twenty minutes ago. He goes right to the counter where the pies are cooling.

“I gotta finish muckin' out at the trail barn before dark,” he explains as he helps himself to a slice.

“Why wasn't that done before dinner?” Dad asks.

“I got busy,” he exclaims. “And one of the fence wires needed fixin'. Slowed me down.”

Landen comes through next, takes a slice for himself, then pulls Wilder back out the door.

Once the two of them are gone, Tripp and Waylon quickly finish theirs and find excuses to leave early.

“I'll help with dishes, Momma.” I stand from my chair, grab my plate, and then offer to take Jase's.

“Are you done, Mr. Underwood?” I finally make eye contact with Fisher.

“Yes, thank you.” His polite, formal voice is a contrast to the gravelly one he whispered in my ear last weekend.

“Jase, are y'all stayin' for scrapbookin'?” Momma asks, and my heart stops.

I barely survived dinner as it is.

“Actually, I have a client pickin' me up in about ten minutes. They wanted to view a house tonight, and I said I had plans to come here, and they offered to get me. I couldn't say no.”

“I'll stay,” Fisher says, and my spine goes ramrod straight.

Damn him.

“Oh, lovely! Noah brought a bunch of photos from the fundraiser. You did such a great job judgin'. I'm sure she'd love to show them to you.”

Glancing over, I find Fisher staring at me with warmth in his eyes. “Can't wait.”