Page 40 of The Spite Date (Small Town Sisterhood #1)

Ryker slinks back in his chair and rolls his eyes at us.

Simon takes Charlie’s plate, then shoots a look out at his boys, who are making a show of sprawling in the grass beneath a tree, next to the dogs.

“They’re up to something,” he says.

I giggle.

Daphne laughs.

Ryker smirks. “You think?”

Simon smiles a what can you do? smile. “Time will tell what.”

Ryker looks out at the boys too, and then he sighs.

“Gonna put the goats up?” I ask him.

“Seems smart.” He climbs out of his seat too. “Hudson. Get out here and help me.”

“It’s risotto , dude. Wait a minute,” Hudson replies from inside.

Daph shoots to her feet. “I’ll help.”

I grab the belt loop on her jean shorts and tug her back into the seat. “Hudson, he’s loaning them out for goat yoga tomorrow, and that can’t happen if they’re stressed.”

“I don’t stress the goats,” Daphne says.

“You stress me, and that stresses the goats,” Ryker replies.

Daph makes a face at him. “Everything stresses you.”

I hide another grin behind my wine.

Hudson appears at the screen door. “Tomorrow’s goat yoga day?”

Ryker hooks his thumbs in his overalls. “Thursday. Duh.”

My youngest brother makes the face of every man ever forced to choose between more food and helping with something that might make its way back to a girl he has a crush on.

“Ooohh,” Daph whispers.

“Now you’re catching on,” I say.

“Catching on to what?” Simon asks as Hudson disappears again.

“Hudson has a crush on the goat yoga instructor,” I whisper.

“She works at his favorite diner on Sunday mornings too,” Daphne adds.

“I’m giving up extra risotto for this,” Hudson says as he pushes out of the house, work gloves in hand. “Make sure you mention that part.”

Ryker rolls his eyes again.

“Do it,” I tell him. “Mention that part.”

He ignores me and heads off the porch, Hudson trailing behind slower.

Like he’s already eaten too much chicken and risotto.

“Did the goats truly bite off his ex-girlfriend’s finger?” Simon asks me.

“Whose ex-girlfriend?”

“Ryker’s ex-girlfriend.”

Daph explodes in laughter.

“Ah, I take that as a no.”

“Who told you that his goats bit his ex-girlfriend’s finger off?” I ask.

“Ryker. When the boys were attempting to pet them before dinner.”

Daph’s still cackling. “Dude. Ryker doesn’t date.”

“He made that up,” I agree.

Simon scoops another bite of risotto onto his fork. “I assumed as much. Thank you for verifying before I made a fool of myself in front of anyone else.”

He bites into the risotto, and his eyes cross as he sighs happily.

“Don’t thank us yet,” Daphne says. “We’re secretly recording the way you’re eating Bea’s cooking so we can post it on the internet if you piss us off.”

He slides one eye open, smiles, and shrugs. “The world should know what it’s missing.”

“And what do you get out of letting us use you to tell the world what it’s missing?”

I don’t bother telling her to knock it off and leave him alone.

It’s nice to have a friend who’s willing to ask that.

And before Daphne, I didn’t.

I was too young to really get along with most of the other parents, and too tired to make friends my own age to go out with.

Daph regularly reminds me that I saved her life by teaching her how to get by as a normal, often-broke person, but the truth is, she saved my life too.

Not with appliances, but with being a friend at a time when I didn’t have the bandwidth to make friends. She was just there , with her completely different lifestyle and zero fear about anything and some soul-level understanding that we needed each other.

“Bea,” Simon says suddenly, “did you tell Daphne what the fortune teller said?”

I wince.

His smile freezes. “Oh.”

“ You saw Madame Petty without me ?” Daph shrieks. “What did she say? I have to know what she said. You know she told me I should hoard money two weeks before my parents disowned me, right?”

“She didn’t say anything that made any sense,” I tell her.

“But what did she say?”

I look at Simon.

He shovels another scoopful of risotto into his mouth, with far fewer manners than he’s been using to eat the rest of dinner—seriously, adorable—and his eyes roll back in his head again.

“She just said you shouldn’t do anything stupid,” I say. “Which is dumb. Who’s to say what’s stupid?”

Simon eyes me.

If he tells Daph that Madame Petty said she wouldn’t come home one day, my hopeless romantic vagina will be finding someone else to be hopelessly romantic about.

“That’s seriously what she said?” Daph looks between us. “That’s so vague.”

“Does she—erm, that is, she also said that my boys would cease speaking to me, so I rather suspect she’s a charlatan,” Simon says.

“Honestly, Daph, he has a point,” I say. “You know I love you, so I say this with love too, but that fortune she gave you about hoarding money? Anyone who’d ever seen a single article about who you used to be and the subsequent articles about your parents’ heartburn might’ve guessed the same.”

She squints at us, her gaze still darting back and forth between us.

And then she sighs. “You’re right. Another fortune teller told me once I’d be arrested, and honestly, of course I was going to be arrested. It was inspiration, if anything.” Her eyes suddenly go big. “Oh my god. Your mother’s Naomi Luckwood, isn’t she?”

Simon’s face goes blank. “That is her name, yes.”

“The painter?”

“That is what she’s known for, yes.”

“She was there.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your mother. My mother went on this kick where she was thinking about buying some of your mother’s artwork since she was Margot’s fiancé’s mother’s favorite obscure artist for a while, and she was there when I got home after the first time I was arrested.

They all were, actually. My mother, your mother, Margot’s former fiancé’s mother… ”

“Fascinating.”

If Simon thinks he’s hiding how he feels about his parents with this neutral-expression thing he has going on, he’s dead wrong.

I can feel Daph picking up on the vibes.

“You’re not very much like your parents, are you?” Daph says.

“Strawberry shortcake?” I interrupt.

“Indeed.” Simon rises. “Please. Allow me to assist.”

“That’s a fabulous idea,” Daphne says. “I’m gonna sit here and be lazy and watch the sun set. Can you make sure my cream is extra whipped?”

Simon’s eyes widen and then shift in the direction of his empty wineglass.

I tug his hand, and sparks shoot up my arm. “C’mon. Let’s go whip some cream. For everyone else. Not for you.”

“Whip it good,” Daphne calls.

“Life is never boring in your circle, is it?” Simon murmurs.

“Never. And I love it.”

The screen door bangs shut behind us.

And we’re alone.

Again.

Just like this afternoon in my bus, except that Simon’s in a shirt that’s almost dried after Ryker got him with water, and I’m in a dress that he can very easily slide his hands under, and we have maybe four minutes before someone realizes we’re alone inside together, because that’s how my life goes.

He squeezes my hand and pulls me closer to him, away from the door and lone window. “That was the most delicious meal I’ve had in years.”

“Hate to tell you, but that’s the pinnacle of my culinary tricks. It’s all downhill from here.”

There’s something different about his smile.

It’s probably the smoky desire making his blue eyes darker. The way they crinkle at the edges. How he smells like patchouli and summertime sprinklers and old books. The brush of his shirt against my bare arm as he presses me against the countertop.

“Tell me there’s not spilled food behind me,” I say.

He smiles wider.

And it’s impossible to not smile back.

“If there were?” he says as he lowers his lips to my neck.

“The answer to that question depends on what you— oh god, right there.”

How does the man know the exact right place and the exact right pressure to put on my skin?

He nips at the sensitive skin behind my ear. “Is this the right answer?”

I angle my face into his neck and lick the tendon from his shoulder to his jaw, enjoying how he shudders against me. “Clearly yes,” he murmurs.

“We have like three minutes.”

“How could you possibly?—”

“I raised three teenage boys and Daphne. I know my odds here.”

He chuckles against my skin, and I know.

I know I am absolutely hopeless at resisting this man.

He’s a bit of a mess, but so am I.

But mostly—it’s the kindness.

“I apologize for my demon spawn’s refusal to eat your food. I don’t know what’s got into them.”

See?

In the middle of slipping a hand up my leg and under my dress, he’s worried that his kids hurt my feelings.

Kindness .

I press a kiss to his stubbly jaw. “I don’t take it personally.”

“Would you like to take this personally?” He flexes his hips against mine.

I arch back against his hard-on. “Yes, please.”

“Good. Because I?—”

“ Bees! ” someone screams outside.

Simon’s head whips up.

He blinks at me as someone else screams.

“Oh, bloody hell,” he mutters.

We both dash toward the door, get in each other’s way, and I manage to get out first.

“What’s wrong?” I ask Daphne, but she’s not on the porch.

She’s running after Charlie, who’s running away from the tree and toward the barn.

“ Beeeeees ,” Charlie hollers.

I run after Daphne and Charlie.

Simon overtakes us both as he sprints after his son.

Both Tank and Pinky are chasing Charlie too.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I pant at Daphne as I catch up to her. “Ryker’s bees are on the other side of the property.”

She stops so suddenly I almost trip over her.

And she turns around just as fast.

“What?” I gasp.

She doesn’t answer.

But she does start to grin.

We’re both huffing and puffing—clearly need to go running more—but she’s smiling and changing course, running again, but this time, around the back of the house.

“Daph?”

I look back at Simon and Tank and Pinky and Charlie.

And that’s when it hits me.

Eddie’s not with them.

Ryker and Hudson are in the goat barn.

All of the other adults are running after Charlie.

I switch course too, following Daphne.

And when we circle the house and find Eddie, I actually gasp out loud.