Page 114 of The Havenport Collection

Callum

I showed up at Violet's farmhouse on time, freshly showered and shaved, with flowers and donuts and managed not to endanger any farm animals or myself on the way. Success.

Both boys answered the door.

“What did you bring us?” Sam asked, reaching for the pastry box.

“These are for later,” I said, offering him a fist bump which he ignored.

Sam stomped off, disappointed at being denied his sugar fix. Henry opened the door and led me into the kitchen.

Violet turned around. She was barefoot and wearing tiny shorts, a T-shirt, and an old-fashioned frilly apron.

Her red hair was piled up on her head in some kind of knot, and she looked luminous.

Her creamy skin, the light dusting of freckles across her collarbone—everything about her was so natural, so alluring, and so distracting.

I shoved the flowers at her sheepishly. “These are for you. They are in a bit better condition than the last ones I brought over here.”

“Oooh, I love daisies! How did you know?”

“I don’t know. They are just so bright and cheery. They are like you in flower form.” I didn’t even realize how dumb that sounded. “Wait. Actually, violets would be you in flower form.”

She gently took them out of my hand and smiled.

“I don’t even like violets, but don’t tell my mom.

These are way better.” She winked and turned around to find a vase in the cabinets, giving me the most spectacular view of her ass in those tiny shorts.

Violet was short but curvy, and I found myself distracted watching her bend over and rummage around for a vase.

I snapped back to reality when I realized Henry was standing next to me.

He gave me a strange look. “Do you want to see Mr. Pickles?” he asked. “He would probably appreciate an apology.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say to a chicken.

“He’s in the house,” Henry said. “Because of his injury, he can’t go back to his flock yet. They would sense his weakness and attack him.”

I made a face. “That sounds terrible.”

“Chickens are assholes,” Violet added, while arranging the flowers.

“Mom,” Henry yelled. “Swear jar.”

“Yup. Sorry, kiddo,” she said, winking at me again.

Henry continued lecturing me. “It’s true. They will cannibalize each other. Until he is fully healed, he has to be separated.”

“We could put him in one of the barns, but the boys insisted he live here.” Violet shrugged.

“Okay, Henry,” I said, trying to figure out a way to win him over. “Let's go meet your rooster.”

The large farmhouse kitchen was a whir of activity.

Violet stood at the large gas range, flipping tortillas while the boys haphazardly set the table.

The kitchen itself was beautiful, with slightly battered white cabinets and butcher-block countertops.

A large apron sink and colorful blue gingham drapes made it feel useful yet homey.

There were cute blue touches everywhere—a vintage cat clock on one wall, a ceramic cookie jar on the counter.

I realized standing there that it had been a while since I had been in a cozy home. It felt good.

After awkwardly apologizing to Mr. Pickles, who was living in an extra-large dog crate, and offering him some mealworm treats as a peace offering, we headed to the kitchen for dinner.

“Smells great. What are we having?” I asked.

“Cauliflower walnut tacos,” Violet said, holding a large platter of grilled corn.

“They’re vegan!” Henry added.

“Not if you put cheese on them!” Sam shouted, rummaging around in the refrigerator and emerging a moment later with a bag of shredded Mexican cheese. “Do you like hot sauce?” he asked, a devilish grin on his face.

“I guess so?” I replied, worried about what I was getting into.

Sam approached the table, arms laden with bottles. The labels said things like “fire,” “devil,” and “demon” on them.

“I love hot sauce,” Violet said, beaming. “I get these on the Internet. They’re from all over the world. I’ll walk you through which ones to try.” She winked at me, carrying a plate of warm tortillas over to the table. “We’ll see what you can handle.”

I wanted to preemptively apologize to my poor GI tract for the damage I would likely inflict to impress a pretty girl.

“Are you guys vegan?” I ask, carrying a salad to the large rustic table.

“No. I’m a vegetarian, and the boys eat everything, but we try to stick mainly to meatless meals at home.”

“It’s delicious,” Henry said, while carefully folding napkins.

“It’s okay,” Sam added. “I really like cheeseburgers, too, though.”

I smiled at him. “I love a good cheeseburger, but trying new foods is so much fun too. I’ve never had cauliflower walnut tacos before. I’m super excited.”

The four of us sat down and began to dig in. The boys were excitedly filling us in on the happenings at summer camp and destroying multiple platefuls of tacos. I didn’t think little people could fit that much food inside their bodies.

“Violet, these are delicious,” I said, gesturing to my empty plate. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“All over. My mom and grandma taught me and then I picked up tips on my travels. Since I don’t eat meat, I have to ask a lot of questions and learn how things are prepared. And I love to cook for people.”

“These were great.” She somehow took toasted walnuts and riced cauliflower and turned them into flavorful taco “meat.” I didn’t understand it, but they tasted awesome.

“So my mom says you went to school here too?” Henry asked.

“Yes, I did. I went to Havenport Elementary School.”

“That’s where we are going,” Henry said.

“Yup. Kindergarten,” Sam added, shoving another taco into his mouth.

“That is really cool,” I said, desperate for some common ground with these kids.

“Do they teach you about dinosaurs in kindergarten? Mom says she doesn’t remember,” Henry asked.

“I’m not really sure. But if you like dinosaurs you need to go to the library. The Havenport Public Library has a ton of books about dinosaurs. I know because when I was your age, my mom took me every week to get new ones.”

“That sounds awesome. Mom, can we please go the library?”

“Sure.”

“And my mom is a volunteer there. So, when you go, ask for Mrs. Quinn—that’s my mom—and she will show you where all the best dinosaur books are.”

“Do you like dinosaurs too?”

“Oh, yes. I loved dinosaurs growing up. I even took some paleontology classes in college.”

“Really? You can do that?”

“Yup. My professor had made some big discoveries. He had actually dug up dinosaur bones.”

“That is the coolest job. Why don’t you do that?” Henry asked.

“I majored in business.”

“That sounds boring.”

“Sam. That’s rude,” Violet chided.

“It is boring,” I admitted. “So guys, promise me that when you get to college, you will take the classes you love and not the terrible boring ones, okay?”

Violet beamed at me.

“We will.”

“I want to be a paleontologist when I grow up,” Henry said, shoveling another taco into his mouth.

“I want to be a dinosaur hunter,” Sam said.

Henry rolled his eyes at his brother. “They are extinct. You can’t hunt them. And if they weren't extinct, we wouldn’t want to hunt them either. We would want to study them and learn from them.”

Sam just shook his head. “But if you smarty-pants people bring them back to life, and the dinosaurs all go crazy and escape and start eating people and stuff, then dinosaur hunters will be needed, and I'll be ready. Like in Jurassic Park .”

“Have you seen Jurassic Park ?” I asked, a bit shocked.

“Our cousins showed us one day when Mom was outside working. Mom was mad, but we weren’t scared. It just made me think dinosaurs are even cooler than I thought,” Sam said proudly.

Henry clearly enjoyed arguing with his brother.

“Yeah, except it’s not even accurate. Like there are so many dinosaur species to choose from, and they massively got raptors wrong.

In real life, raptors were tiny and covered with feathers.

There are plenty of medium-sized carnivores they could have chosen to be the scary killer dinosaurs, but they chose to misrepresent the species and I'm pretty mad about it.”

Sam gestured to Henry. “My brother is such a nerd.”

“Well, I am the smart one.” Henry pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Boys,” Violet interjected, “please don’t bicker. You know it gives me migraines. You are both very smart. How about you go and play for a few minutes while Callum and I clean up? It’s still light out.”

The boys took off immediately, tripping over each other to get their shoes and get out the door.

Violet turned up the music, and we rinsed and loaded the dishwasher while Brahms filled the kitchen. I looked out the window and smiled. The boys were playing soccer. Or rather, they were playing with a soccer ball while wrestling and pushing each other in the dirt.

She looked over my shoulder. “They never stop.”

“They are great kids. You have done an amazing job with them.”

She blushed a little. “Ha! Wait until you see them fling their boogers at each other.”

“Hey, booger flinging is a tried-and-true brotherly pastime, just like fart contests.”

“Ew, stop.” She whipped me with a kitchen towel. I liked that she was tactile and playful. It made me even more attracted to her.

“Trust me, I have two brothers, remember.”

“How could I forget? The infamous Quinn brothers. Breaking hearts in Havenport since the eighties.” She pretended to fan herself.

“Not anymore. Liam is engaged, and Declan is madly in love with his girlfriend.”

“So you are the only heartbreaker left then?”

“Ha. I wish. I don't break hearts. I don’t get anywhere near hearts since my divorce.”

“So you are a member of the club?” she asked, her eyes softening.

“Yup, the fifty percenters. The failures.”

“I’d hardly call it failure if fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. I'd say we’re average,” she shrugged.

“Mediocrity is even worse than failure,” I quipped, drying the bowl she handed me.

“I see you haven’t changed.” She narrowed her eyes.

“And I see your head is still in the clouds.” I winked at her.