A small stampede of footsteps announced their return.
“Hey, R-Ryder.” Cody smiled. “Good?” he asked as Ryder shoved another cookie in his mouth.
“Snickerdoodles are his favorite.” Renata nudged him in the side.
“Mine, too,” Cody said, grinning.
“Smart kid.” Ryder winked at him.
Cody’s ear-to-ear smile looked so much like Greg’s it took his breath away. There were days he missed Greg, his no-nonsense take on life, and their easy camaraderie. It was bittersweet, to see his best friend so clearly in this little boy. A little boy who’d never know his father. The little boy who, if he could convince Annabeth they could make it work, would be his stepson. Cody would be a great big brother to the baby...a son he’d be proud of. He ruffled the boy’s hair, resisting the sudden urge to hug him. “Having a good time?” he asked.
Cody nodded.
“Annabeth was under the weather, so Josie went over to cheer her up,” Hunter offered. “We figured Cody’d have more fun here.”
Ryder frowned. Annabeth wasn’t feeling well? He should know this, should be taking care of her. “She okay?” he asked before he could stop himself. He didn’t miss the slight narrowing of Hunter’s eyes.
Cody shrugged. “She said she was tired.”
“You ready to hide?” Eli asked Cody.
“Last time,” Hunter said, though his attention never wandered from Ryder. “We’ll take Cody on home and pick up Jo before it gets too late.”
Renata and Cody ran off while Eli started counting in the great room.
Hunter cast a quick glance at their father before adding, “You ready to tell us why you’re here?”
Ryder cocked an eyebrow. “Why does there have to be a reason?”
“You gonna stop using questions as your answers?” his father interjected.
Ryder and Hunter laughed then. Ever since Ryder was a boy, he’d answer questions with questions to muddy the waters—hoping to avoid trouble or consequences. It had irritated their father to no end.
“You in trouble?” his father asked.
Ryder opened his mouth, ready to answer with some smart-ass comeback. Assuming Ryder was in trouble would be the first conclusion his father would jump to. And, even though his father was right, he couldn’t dismiss the anger his father’s question stirred up.
“Ryder?” his father repeated.
“No, sir,” he answered. “On my way to Fisher’s for my steel-toe boots,” he lied.
His father frowned while Hunter crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.
“I can’t just stop by?” Ryder felt his cheeks burn, the words damn near choking him.
His father stared at him, long and hard. “’Course you can, Ryder. This is your home.”
“Might stop by more often for these,” he murmured, holding up a snickerdoodle cookie.
There was a loud thump, sending their father out of the kitchen with a smile, and leaving Ryder alone with his big brother.
“’Fess up.” Hunter’s voice was low, neutral.
Ryder placed his half-eaten cookie back on the plate.
“I’m thinking it’s the same girl that’s had you wrapped around her pinkie since grade school.”
Ryder couldn’t help grinning.