I rolled my lips together to stop a smile from breaking free at her list. Jinx did do all of that, and he made me feel like a normal human being every time he did.
Maddie wasn’t done, though. “He introduced you to his band of brothers so you’d feel more comfortable in town, watched you like a hawk the first time you met them in case he had to get you out of there quickly, reads your body language better than I think even you do, never takes his eyes off you—”
“And hates being away from you,” a deep voice said behind us, making both of us jump and scream. Fortunately, I’d lifted my hands away from the clay instead of swiping them through it this time, so I didn’t have to fix a mess.
Another thing I didn’t do—panic. Yes, I screamed and jumped, but the usual anxiety and freak out that would have followed it didn’t even threaten to happen. Why? Because I recognized the voice, and it came with safety.
Maddie, however, wasn’t quite on that level. Instead, as she screamed, she also shrieked, “Percy Jackson!” and then got up and pushed the chair toward him, only narrowly missing the large project vase.
Almost like it’d been choreographed, Jinx reached out and caught it, shooting me an apologetic look like he wanted to kick his own ass. “I’m so sorry, baby. I thought you’d—”
“I’m fine,” I chuckled, looking over at where Maddie was now dancing around and shaking her hands out. “But I think you might have tripped the power switch in her brain.”
Holding her hand against her chest, she panted and glared at him. “What in the hell is wrong with you? Do you need a bell or something to warn people you’re around?”
Jinx’s lips twitched as he wheeled the chair back over to where she’d been sitting only thirty seconds before. “I thought y’all heard me. I pulled the truck up in front of the workshop instead of leaving it at the house. The boys are tired and were acting out of whack, so I brought them home to their momma.”
“Scare the shit out of them, too, did you?” she accused, then dropped to her knees when the boys came running in. “Hey, auntie’s here. Where are my good boys?”
Shooting me an amused look, Jinx mouthed, “Auntie?” making me laugh quietly as she patted the ground and made snuffling noises at them.
“When can I babysit?”
“What?” we asked at the same time.
“When can I babysit them? If you write out their schedule—like what time they have dinner, what time they go to bed, how to brush their teeth—I promise to stick to it.”
“I had no intentions of going anywhere, Mads,” I admitted, biting my lip. “And I only just started brushing their teeth yesterday, and the toothpaste’s liver flavored.”
My best friend not only hated mushrooms, but if she even heard the word liver, it got an instant gag response from her. Which was precisely what happened.
“Why? What’s wrong with minty fresh breath? It works for me every morning and night. Who makes dogs eat liver?”
“A majority of the companies who make things for them,” Jinx told her drily. “It’s good for them and they love it, so it’s in pretty much everything they have.”
Looking horrified, she buried her head in Mento’s neck while rubbing Bash’s back. “My poor boys. I’ll help you be vegetarians or even pescatarians. Whichever one you want. Chicken’s good, isn’t it?” When Bash barked, she burst out laughing and jumped up. “Wanna go play?”
Sinking in her seat, Jinx watched it all with morbid curiosity. “Does she expect them to actually answer that?”
No, no, she did not. Which was why she jogged over and picked up the jute storage bag I kept their toys in.
“We’ll be back,” she called over her shoulder, and then she was gone.
“For someone so tiny, she’s like…” Jinx shook his head in amazement.
“The Tasmanian Devil?”
There was really nothing else he could suggest that suited her better than that, so he just nodded and stared at where she’d been. And that’s when I recalled what we’d been discussing when he’d shown up. Shit. And then he’d said something else—double shit. It was like the words were flashing on a neon sign in my brain now, and I didn’t know what to do with that.
Dunking my hands in the bucket of water, I went back to working the clay, aware of his eyes on me the whole time.
It was just as I was smoothing down the sides of the deep bowl that he said, “It’s true, you know.”
“What’s true?”
Looking away from me and over at our project, he mumbled, “What Maddie was saying to you.” Then, turning back to me, he added, “What I said, too.”
With an inner strength I didn’t even know I had, I managed not to mess up what I was doing. Unfortunately, I couldn’t smooth down the sides for long, or the whole thing would become too thin and collapse, so I had to admit defeat and stop doing it.