Page 2 of The Great Maple Mistake (Love in Maplewood #8)

Before he even finishes speaking, the softball is flying through the air and smacks dead center of the target again.

The growing crowd erupts with cheers as Dad drops into the water with a huge splash.

He comically presses himself against the glass tank, glaring at Mom before bursting out of the water again, waves sloshing wildly over the walls.

I get several shots of that, and of her laughing at him.

Grumbling dramatically for their audience, he resets the platform and settles back into place. “Miranda, you could take pity on me and miss just once.”

“I could, but I need to get my money’s worth for my donation.” Her grin is wicked.

Dad chuckles and shakes his head, making a get-on-with-it motion.

So she does. For a third time, Dad splashes into the tank before breaking the surface with a gasp, and climbing out like he’s been fired from a rocket.

He makes a beeline for Mom, who’s too busy accepting congratulations from the crowd to notice.

I keep my finger on the shutter-release as he grabs her in a bear hug.

Her shriek of shock and outrage momentarily drowns out the festival noises as the back of her khaki shorts and rainbow tie-dye T-shirt absorb the water streaming down Dad’s body. “Oh my god, Graham, put me down!”

Dad leans around and kisses her cheek. “Payback’s a bitch, sweetie.”

Rob appears out of nowhere and tosses him a dry towel. “Unhand my wife, good sir!”

Without missing a beat, Dad lets go of Mom and snatches the towel out of the air. “Thank you. I was enjoying the seventy-eight degree day until I got soaked to the bone by your wife.”

Dad holds out his hand to Rob, who grins and shakes it. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Graham. Thanks for taking one for the team. If you hadn’t agreed to let Miranda dunk you, I’d’ve had to volunteer.” Rob winces and pats Dad on the shoulder. “No one wants to see this skinny body drenched in tank water. I’d look like a drowned rat.”

Dad towels off, oblivious to the appreciative glances he’s getting from the crowd of onlookers.

He may be in his fifties, but he’s still pretty fit, only just starting to get a little soft around the middle.

When Mom finally spots us, she opens her arms and waves us over.

“Oh, look, my babies! Just in time to see me drench their father.” She looks at me sternly.

“Please tell me you got pictures of that.”

Not even fighting it, Luke and I step into her embrace, though I hold my camera out of harm’s way. “Of course I did.”

She kisses my cheek. “Good boy.”

We’re an affectionate family, and hugs from Mom, Dad, and Luke are regular occurrences. And pretty much the extent of my human contact lately. I really need to fix that, but I’ve been busy. And dating isn’t anything I’ve had much luck with.

Mom kisses Luke’s cheek, gives us one more squeeze, and then lets go as Dad wanders over for his hug, absolutely unconcerned that we’ll get even wetter. Again, I hold my camera away from my body and give him a one-armed hug, accepting his full embrace and kiss on the cheek.

Luke, being Luke, grabs Dad in a bear hug and lifts him off the ground with a groan. Since this isn’t actually odd behavior for either of them, Dad chuckles and waits for Luke to set him down. “You wouldn’t have been able to do that if I was back in my twenties. The farm put muscles on my muscles.”

“And now you’re pushing sixty, and I’m in my prime.

” Luke flexes his muscular arms, straining the sleeves of his white ‘The future is inclusive’ T-shirt.

The teasing has been a running joke between them since Luke turned seventeen and started packing on the muscle to match his height.

Dad and Luke are about six feet tall and broad across the shoulders and chest, unmistakably built like the MacDougall side of the family.

I missed out on those genes, only making it to five feet, eight inches.

And while I have muscle definition, I have more of a slim build.

I guess I get that from Mom. She’s only five feet, four inches and definitely considered petite.

Dad flicks Luke on the ass with the corner of his damp towel.

“Get off my lawn, you whippersnapper.” Luke laughs, rubbing his butt where the towel zinged him.

Dad pulls on his hunter green ’802’ T-shirt and slings the towel over his shoulder, taking his phone, keys, wallet, and shoes from Mom.

“C’mon. I’m done with my shift in the tank. I’ll buy everyone dinner.”

Luke groans and this time he rubs his belly. “Thank god, because I’m starving.”

Mom rolls her eyes. “You’re always starving. You’ve been starving since you were thirteen. I’m still waiting for you to waste away to nothing.”

He gives her the sad puppy eyes that I’ve never been able to manage. “Mom, I’m a growing boy.”

She snorts. “You’re thirty-six. Almost thirty-seven.”

He looks crestfallen, and if I didn’t know him as well as I do, I’d believe he was actually crushed. “Mom, you said I’d be your little boy forever.”

Dad grabs him by the arms and spins him around, marching him toward the food booths. Luke breaks into peals of laughter, and I shake my head at the antics, yelling after them. “That’s why Mom loves me best!”

Luke calls over his shoulder. “She does not!”

Mom slips her arm through mine and gives my bicep a squeeze. “You are my favorite. Don’t tell Rob. He thinks he is.”

Laughing, I glance at my mom’s husband. “I won’t say a word.”

“Good boy.” She kisses my cheek and slips her free hand into Rob’s.

I don’t miss the affectionate look they give each other, and it makes me smile even more.

I’m thrilled she’s found a partner who adores her.

And I’m sure if Dad tried, he could too.

Luke could have his pick of partners, but he’s too oblivious to notice when someone’s interested.

And me? That unicorn doesn’t exist for me. But a guy can hope.