Key Of Valor (Key 3)

"Okay."

"I'm going to give your mother a hand with the dishes first," Brad said.

"You don't have to do that. Really," she insisted even as Brad cleared his plate like Simon had done. "I've got a system in here, plus Simon's been looking forward to the match all day. He's only got an hour before he has to get ready for bed."

"Come on. Come on." Simon grabbed Brad's hand and tugged. "Mom doesn't mind. Right, Mom?"

"No, I don't mind. Everybody out of my kitchen, and that includes the dog."

"I'll come back and dry as soon as I beat the midget," Brad told her. "It won't take long."

"In your dreams," Simon sang out as he pulled Brad from the room.

It did her heart good to hear her son enjoying himself while she went through the routine of straightening the kitchen. Simon had never had an adult male take a sincere interest in him. Now, with Flynn and Jordan and Bradley, he had three.

And, she had to admit, Bradley was his favorite. There'd been some click between them, she thought. Some mysterious male chemistry. It was something she not only had to accept, but also should encourage.

Before she did so, though, she had to make certain Brad understood that whatever happened, or didn't, between them, Simon wasn't to be shrugged off.

She finished the kitchen, then brewed a pot of coffee and arranged a tray for it and a plate of chocolate biscotti.

When she carried it in, there was Brad, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Simon. The dog was snoring away with his head propped on Brad's knee.

The room was reverberating with the sounds and sights of WWE Smackdown.

"Meat! You are meat!" Simon chanted as he frantically worked the controls.

"Not yet, buddy boy. Take that!"

Zoe watched an enormous blond wrestler heave his burly opponent onto the mat and deliver a punishing body slam.

Next came grappling, grunts, horrible shrieks—and not all of them from the speakers.

Then Simon collapsed onto his back, arms spread, mouth gaping.

"Defeat," he groaned. "I have tasted defeat."

"Yeah, get used to it." Brad reached over, drummed a hand on Simon's belly. "You've met the master and now know his greatness."

"Next time you die."

"You'll never take me in Smackdown."

"Yeah? Here's a sample of what's to come."

He flipped over, and with a whoop leaped onto Brad's back.

There was more grappling, Zoe noted, more grunts, and the kind of shrieks that warmed her heart. She didn't even flinch when Brad flipped Simon over his head and pinned him on the rug.

"Yield, small, pathetic challenger."

"Never!" Simon hooted it out, and laughed from the gut, being ruthlessly tickled while he tried to twist his face away from Moe's slurping tongue. "My ferocious dog will chew you to pieces."

"Oh, yeah, I'm trembling with fear. Give up?"

Breathless, tears of laughter streaming, Simon wiggled and squirmed another ten seconds. "Okay, okay. No more tickling, or I'll puke!"

"Not on my rug," Zoe said.