Page 25 of Theirs for the Holidays

Lennox looks up, annoyed now. “Of course we did. But she kicked us out of the kitchen. What did you want us to do, argue with her in her own home?”

Unbelievable. The fire spreads, catching enough of the wood to start it burning on its own, and I get to my feet, ignoring my brothers as I make my way to the kitchen where Violet is stirring something in a pot.

“Hey,” I say, trying not to startle her. She seems like she’s in the zone, squinting down into the pot.

“Hey.” She looks up with a smile. “Everything good?”

“Yeah. Fire’s going and there’s a ton of cut wood now.”

“Thank you, Rhett. That’s going to be so nice.”

I quirk a tiny smile back at her. “Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?”

Violet shakes her head. “Nope. You can just go wait with your brothers. I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?”

She puts her hands on her hips, pinning me with a playfully stern look. “Yes, I’m sure. I can handle making dinner on my own. You’re my guests. Let me do this.”

I could argue and say that since we’re invading her space that’s all the more reason for us to help, but Lennox is right that it’s shit manners to argue with someone in their own home.

“Fine,” I say grudgingly. “But I’m going to help set the table.”

“I can’t stop you, can I?”

I shake my head, and she sighs, a smile playing around her mouth. She looks in her element, in the kitchen, happy and relaxed. It’s nice to see.

“Fine, fine. Plates are there, utensils there.” Violet points to a cabinet and drawer with her wooden spoon, and I get to work, setting the small kitchen table that’s set between the kitchen and the living room.

It’s better to have something to do with my hands, a task to keep me busy and keep me from having to sit in the living room in that weird silence with my brothers, so I take my time, setting out the plates, getting paper towels and glasses, making sure the forks are arranged just so.

A little bit later, Violet calls us all to dinner.

“I’m starving,” Sawyer says as he drops into a chair. “Lunch feels like it was a long time ago.”

“Sorry,” Violet replies, making a face as she dishes up a pasta dish. The red sauce is fragrant, mixed with meat and veggies, coating long strands of spaghetti that she piles onto each plate. “I tend to lose track of time when I’m doing errands, there’s just so much to cram into my one day off.”

Sawyer waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m a grown man, and I could have a snack if I wanted to.”

“But instead, he’d rather complain about being hungry than do anything about it,” Lennox mutters under his breath.

So much for the fragile truce.

Sawyer doesn’t rise to the bait, either because he didn’t hear it from across the table or because he’s more focused on the food. He twirls his fork in the pasta and shovels it into his mouth, licking sauce from his lips.

And then his face freezes as he starts to chew.

It’s been years, but I know that look on my brother’s face.

I take my own bite of the pasta, and nearly have to choke back the urge to spit it out onto the plate. It smelled amazing, savory and garlicky, but it tastes… well, it tastes fucking terrible. Somehow too salty and spicy all at the same time. The garlic is overpowering, and there’s a bitter note in there somewhere, like something burned and then was scraped off the bottom of the pan and added to the pot of sauce anyway.

I force myself to chew and swallow, and then wash down the mouthful with a large gulp of water, desperately trying to keep my face under control.

Lennox takes his own bite, and his face is utterly expressionless as he eats. Damned military training.

“So?” Violet says, when we’ve been eating in silence for several minutes. “How is it?”

“It’s good,” Sawyer says quickly. “Really good.”