Page 19 of Over and Above (Mount Hope #4)
Chapter Nineteen
Magnus
My dogs were missing. However, unlike in the past when I’d been worried sick over what the Hound-ini escape artists were up to, this time I had a pretty good where they were, especially since I was home early for a Thursday, with a little wisp of fading light, which was no small thing in the Pacific Northwest in early November. The air was crisp like a bracing glass of cold cider and dry leaves swirled around my feet on my short walk from the carriage house to the main house.
I did my usual thing of knocking at the kitchen door, but the only reply was the barking of my missing dogs.
“Oh hey, Magnus.” John, the football kid I seldom saw, opened the kitchen door. “Just in time for dinner.”
“I’m looking for my dogs.” The dogs in question darted for the dining room, no doubt in search of falling food scraps. I followed John past the kitchen to find a lively dinner underway with Maren, Diesel, Wren, and Eric.
“And so we should host Thanksgiving,” Maren said forcefully as I entered the room. She speared a piece of broccoli before waving at me. “Magnus! I was telling my dad we need to host Thanksgiving this year. A big one. You, Diesel, all of us, any friends who need a place to go?—”
“Or an escape,” Eric added as he greeted me with only his eyes, a nifty trick he was getting quite good at. We’d developed more of an unspoken code since deciding to be exclusive. It made interacting around others easier. “Jonas would likely come here regardless if we host, but Declan might appreciate the excuse not to go to Sean’s parents.”
“Exactly.” Maren gave a firm nod. She gestured for me to sit in the open chair near Eric. “Grab a plate, Magnus. There’s plenty.”
“I don’t want to impose. I only came by for the dogs,” I demurred, but John was already handing me a plate heaped with a Mexican-inspired casserole, broccoli, and a side of refried beans. “Well, I guess I could stay a bit.”
“Good.” Maren beamed at me, even as Eric’s response was more subdued. But our eyes met again, and the subtle warmth there made me settle into my chair and start eating.
“You’re not working the dinner shift?” Eric asked, tone casually conversational as he reached to pet one of my traitorous dogs.
“Nope. Training a new manager for the holiday rush, and she needs more practice closing before the busy season hits.” I’d also known Eric was off tonight, and I’d had a vague plan to go home, shower, and see if he was up for sneaking over or watching something after dinner and homework time, but I wasn’t about to share that reasoning with the table.
“I wonder if Marissa’s family does Thanksgiving,” Maren mused as she reached for more broccoli. She wore a maternity shirt with a pumpkin covering her growing baby bump, and the nausea she’d struggled with all summer had vanished like the heat, replaced by an impressive appetite. “I assume so, but I should ask.”
“You want to invite your midwife to Thanksgiving?” Eric paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. He continued to be skeptical of the home-birth plan, but Maren was full-steam ahead on the idea, including welcoming Marissa as another member of the family.
“Why not?” Maren shrugged, making the cartoon quote on her shirt dance. “And unless you want to miss the dinner, remember to ask off for the day. No volunteering to cover for others.”
“Okay.” Eric huffed out a breath, clearly making an effort to drop the Marissa and midwife discussion. “I’m trying to stockpile some leave for after the baby is here, but I won’t volunteer to work Thanksgiving.”
“Now, let’s talk turkey.” At the far end of the table, Wren rubbed their hands together like they’d been waiting for the opportunity. “I have theories…”
“Please, no cooking experiments.” Groaning, John pointed his fork at Wren. “I want to eat the turkey, not dissect it.”
“Edible would be a priority,” Maren agreed.
“Wren, would you consider letting me help with the turkey?” I asked before anyone else could jump in with complaints about Wren’s kitchen chemistry.
“We do work well together,” Wren continued with their analytical tone. “And you have a proper respect for Maren’s prenatal nutrition. Yes, you can help. But we’re going to need a strategy for the side dishes.”
“Agreed.” I smiled encouragingly, happy to have mitigated some sibling conflict.
“A cohesive menu would be good,” Eric added.
“I’ll make a spreadsheet.” Wren reached down for a pile of books and electronics beside their chair, but Eric made a warning noise.
“No tablets at the table.”
“Okay, okay.” Wren returned their attention to finishing their food, and the table continued discussing various Thanksgiving-related logistics until the meal was finished. Diesel had to leave for a night shift, and I walked him out to get a moment to catch up on his work and baby news.
However, after admiring the ultrasound photos from the twenty-week anatomy scan yet again and commiserating about bosses who wanted overtime as the holidays approached, I went back inside to help with the cleanup efforts.
“I meant to invite you for Thanksgiving, not make you cook it,” Eric grumbled as I joined him in wiping counters.
“I’m already looking forward to it.” I added a little wink because we were alone?—
“How do you feel about a bacon-wrapped bird?” And, of course, Wren chose exactly that moment to pop up on the other side of the kitchen island, complete with a scientific-looking cookbook with sticky notes on the pages. “Or trying the flip-the-bird technique? We want as juicy a breast as possible.”
By the grace of God, I managed to keep a professional tone. “We can add both to the list of possible options.”
“Do you have thoughts on pies?” Wren flipped to another section in the book while also juggling their tablet. “Apple and pumpkin are the classics.”
“Actually, I can do those.” Eric seemed happy to have something to volunteer for. “My mother’s crust recipe might as well come in handy.”
“Count me in for helping peel apples.” No wink this time, but with luck, we could turn late-night pie-making into at least one stolen kiss. “And I’ve got a killer dessert brandy you could add in or serve alongside.”
“My mother would never.” Eric did an excellent job of pretending to be scandalized, complete with his hand on his heart. “I love the idea. Brandy apple pie it is.”
A timer beeped on Wren’s tablet, and they stood up, frizzy hair, cookbooks, and all.
“You guys can finalize the pie options. I’ve got a physics study group.”
“Excellent.” Eric did the same encouraging dad voice I’d found myself using a time or twenty. “I’m so glad you’re making friends at the high school.”
“Friends?” Wren gave a rather murderous grin. “Sparring partners. Competition for the top GPA slot. Excellent cannon fodder in Dungeons and Dragons. But sure, let’s go with friends.”
“Still happy,” Eric called after them as they made their way up the back stairs. John had already made himself scarce, and Maren had retreated downstairs to rest after Diesel left.
“Alone at last.” I waggled my eyebrows at Eric. “I’d say it’s exactly as I planned it, but the dinner invite and dog-napping were all on your kids. I was going to come around later after dinner and homework time to see if you were in the mood for a movie.”
“Always.” Eric glanced at the back stairs before adding some warmth to his smile. “And sorry Wren nabbed your dogs again. I can talk to them about the difference between checking on them for you and borrowing the dogs.”
I’d worked out a similar deal with Wren to the one I’d had with Shelby, where on longer days, Wren would check the water and food situation and make sure the dogs had access to the dog run. Inevitably, the dogs ended up back at the main house—either Wren, Maren, or occasionally Diesel’s doing.
“Nah. If Wren likes the company after school, I’m certainly not going to deny them or the dogs that fun. Even if they are getting rounder and lazier.” I reached down and gave both dogs pets. Naturally, they’d stuck close by for the cleaning, available to catch any stray crumbs.
“I’ll tell Wren to cut back on the puppy treats.” Eric said this with no trace of irony as he handed out treats from a jar on the counter. A jar, one might point out, that he had purchased and filled.
“Don’t think Wren’s the only one who needs that lecture.”
“Maybe not.” Eric was adorable when he blushed, so I leaned in for a sneaky kiss. However, he waved me off at the last second. “We probably shouldn’t risk it with an awake house.”
“I know.” I kept my tone agreeable, but inside, I wondered if others knowing we were the sort of friends who occasionally kissed would be so bad. I was already over a lot, and the kids, including Diesel, knew we watched TV together occasionally. In many ways, things would be easier if we were simply more open, but Eric tensed at the mere suggestion of seriousness, so I simply said, “I’ll keep a respectable distance for the movie.”
“At least until bedtime.” Eric’s voice was a whisper, but his heated look was a roar. And that right there was why I kept coming back, despite his continued insistence this was a casual fling. It was also my most successful relationship to date, secrecy notwithstanding.
“Better plan on a double-header.” I matched his look with one of my own.
“Already on it.” Eric headed toward the living room, looking back over his shoulder. “I’m thinking a deep dive into nineties takes on class reunion comedies.”
“Perfect.” And this really was. A whole family to come home to, happy dogs, happy kids, happy person to cuddle with on the couch. Happy me . I wanted more nights exactly like this, and if sneaking around was the price to pay, so be it.