Page 118 of Pretty Vengeance

“I’ll take ham and cheddar,” Ash says as Sean outlines the cookie flavors, and Finn demands a chocolate chip one, calling it a chip.

“No more right now. You’ve had enough cookies,” Laurel says, shaking her head at Finn.

“I want.” The little boy tugs on her pant leg. “Chip.”

Then Ash’s brother Scott comes in wearing faded Levis and a gray t-shirt. He hugs Ash, then gives her a suspicious look. “Roads are bad. How’d you make such good time?”

“I’m an excellent driver,” she says in a robotic voice that causes him to roll his eyes with a chuckle.

He extends a hand to me. “Hey, Sawyer, nice to see you.”

I shake the hand as his younger son pulls on his pant leg.

“Dada, chip cookie.” His little fist opens and closes. “I need one. No, two.” He points up at the counter. “Two chips.”

Scott’s shrewd eyes shift from the little boy’s hopeful face to his wife’s. “How many has he had?”

“Too many,” she says mildly. “I already said no.”

Finn stamps his foot. “Yes! Chip-cookie!”

In a cheerful voice that draws everyone’s attention, Ash says, “Oh my gosh! You know what I need, guys? I need to know what your animals are up to. Have they been getting along or are they fighting?”

“Fighting!” Finn announces. “Dray jail now.”

“Really? Draco the dragon’s in jail?” She scoops him up. “I’d better go and see. Dragons have wings, you know. He could be escaping right this minute because no one’s watching. Let’s go check.”

As she hurries from the room carrying his little brother, Sean jumps off the step stool he’s standing on and rushes out after her.

I drift toward the doorway, unable to keep from smiling. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around small children. I’m drawn to the sounds of their excitement, instantly feeling lighter and happier than I have in days.

Scott pulls a pair of Guinnesses from the fridge. “Sawyer, what’ll you take to drink?” He pushes the door open wider for me to choose from a deep shelf of beverages.

Jamie enters and extends his hand, which Scott shakes. Nodding toward the beers, he says, “I’ll pour, shall I?”

Scott’s eyes narrow. “Meaning what?”

Jamie’s lips twitch into a small smirk. “Meaning, half head and overflowing last time, and I’d rather not risk it.”

“Fuck off,” Scott says. “That was four in the morning with Ash banging my chair.”

“Right, sure.” Jamie slides an empty Guinness glass towards himself. “How about to each his own?”

Laurel chuckles, and Scott turns his scowl on her. “Whose side are you on?”

Ash saunters back in and spots the pints as Scott sets them on the counter. “Oh, good, Guinness. Can I pour?”

“No,” the men say in unison.

That causes all of us to laugh, including Ash. “I’m an excellent bartender,” she says in the robotic voice from earlier.

“What’s this now?” Jamie opens his can.

“Rain Man. Old movie,” Scott says dryly while scrutinizing the way Jamie tilts his glass.

As Jamie pours, he slowly decreases the angle of the glass so it’s upright by the time it’s full. There’s a perfect layer of foam on top. “That’s all right, that is.” With the devil in his eyes, he glances at Ash. “Ash, love, you best stand next to your brother while he gives it a go. That way, if things go awry, he can blame you for knocking his arm.”

Scott cocks a brow. “This is what comes of letting the poor relations come to stay. Shit manners from start to finish.”