Page 12 of Pinch

“Mav’s right,” I concede. “I’ll be spending most of my days in the lab, and they’re basically at the practice rink or playing nonstop.”

“It’s settled then.” Maverick holds up his hand for an air high-five, which Gavin returns. “You’re going to love it here. Monday’s movie night, so add your nominations to the fishbowl.”

“Maverick…” A warning tone is in my voice.

“What?” He holds out his hands. “If he’s going to have to watch movies, he should have a vote, and for once I’ll havesome backup against you two. I might have a chance of seeing a guy film for once.”

Shaking my head, I carry Patsy to the stairs. “Call me when dinner’s ready.”

Golden string-lights hangfrom the metal roof of our bungalow over the wooden back porch where a black wrought-iron table and chairs are arranged. A long serving table is against the house, and Maverick has arranged platters of tortillas, a covered dish of steaming fajita meat, and two bowls of guacamole and salsa, along with all the fixins, plates, and utensils.

“I used Mom’s special habañero picanté sauce tonight, so be careful,” he warns, passing behind me to get in line with his plate.

“Are you saying we should not try to put the fire out with beer or water?” Gina holds out her hands like she’s a flight attendant explaining safety protocols. “We have vanilla ice cream in the freezer if you feel overwhelmed. Or tomato juice for the lactose intolerant.”

“No one here is lactose intolerant.” Then I glance at Gavin, who appears confused. “Sorry, are you lactose intolerant?”

“My mom is, but I’m not.” He shakes his head, turning those heart-stopping blue eyes on me. “What’s going on?”

“It’s the standard warning they give before Dare Night at our family restaurant back home,” I answer as I turn away.

I’m not looking to engage in a long conversation with him.

“Cooters & Shooters.” Maverick throws his arm around his friend’s neck. “We should go sometime. It’s wild.”

“Cooters?” Gavin’s forehead wrinkles.

“It’s the common name for the river turtles that live around south Alabama.” Gina explains.

I take two warm tortillas from the folded napkins in the basket. “It’s from the African word for turtle,kuta.”

He nods, following my lead. “I forgot how smart you are.” I deny the warmth flooding my chest at his compliment. “Are you still doing your sneezing studies?”

It helps that he just killed it.

“They’re not sneezing studies.” My tone is final, and I continue to spoon fajita steak from the covered dish.

A spoon of guac and some sour cream to cut the heat, and I walk over to sit at the table while my cousins and our house guest finish their servings.

Mav hands his friend a Dos Equis Amber, but I’m sticking to sweet iced tea tonight.

Gigi hops up after her first bite of dinner. “I need a glass of milk! Anybody else?”

“I’m good.” I wave. The fajitas are spicy, but I love spicy food.

“Wimp!” Mav calls after her, but Gav dips his chin after his first bite.

“I’ll take one.” He slides his beer to the side. “You said that won’t put out the fire?”

“What’s the matter, Boomer?” Maverick teases. “Can’t take the heat?”

“Boomer.” Gavin snorts, walking over to the cooler and taking out a piece of ice. “I’m the ice man.”

My eyes catch on Gavin sliding the piece of ice up and down his tongue, and I shift in my seat. Refocusing my gaze on my plate, I decide I’ll finish early and head upstairs.

“Here you go!” Gina places a glass of milk in front of him, and the three dogs are now with us on the side porch.

It’s a pretty sunset. The sky is gradually shifting from golden to blue and purple. I hear a little squeaky bark beside my chair, and I lean down to pick up Patsy.