Sweet (Landry Family 6)

“If you want to eat, you can.” Nate winks at me. “Wanna chop the onions? I’d be more than happy to pass this along to you.”

“Gotta wash your hands first,” Ryder says.

“Of course.” I walk to the sink and turn on the water. “How was your day?”

“Mine was great,” Ryder says in the precious little kid way like they’re the only person in the room. “I got a star for reading, and that puts me ahead of all the other kids in my class. Not in the entire first grade because there’s a girl Jurnee who has read more than me. But she’s in Mrs. Stahl’s class, not mine.”

I laugh, finishing up washing my hands. “How many more stars does she have than you?”

“Five. I don’t know if I can catch her, but I’m trying.”

I flip the water off and flick the water off my hands in the sink. Then I turn to the island.

“I want to know what I get out of this since I’m the one reading all the damn books to him,” Nate whispers as I get closer.

“You get a kid who loves reading,” I whisper back.

He rolls his eyes, but his grin tells me he’s joking.

“Here.” He hands me his knife and motions to the onions and garlic on the counter with his other hand. “Have at it.”

I take the knife. Our hands brush against each other in the transition. A zip of energy races between our bodies at the contact.

We touch each other at work occasionally although I always think Nate tries to avoid it. But here, in his kitchen, it’s different. The electricity between us is softer tonight but somehow just as intense.

“How was your day, Nate?” I ask.

“Fine. I had to run by Landry Security for a while. Talked to Dom and Troy and shot the shit for a bit. They both said hello.”

I place the knife close to my heart and sigh blissfully. “Troy, my hero.”

Nate doesn’t turn his head but looks at me all the same. His jaw is tight, and it makes me laugh.

“Sorry,” I say, giggling. “You were there too. You can be my co-heroes.”

He rolls his eyes.

“When do I get to hang out with Uncle Dom and Camilla Vanilla again?” Ryder asks.

Nate takes the large spoon out of Ryder’s hand and sets it on the counter. Then he picks his son up and tickles him. Ryder kicks and giggles before his dad sets him on his feet.

“You’re not seeing Uncle Dom until he swears he won’t take you back to Percy’s,” Nate says.

Ryder pouts. “You have to trust him. He’s your brother.”

“What do you know about brothers? You don’t even have one,” Nate says, mussing up the little boy’s hair.

“That’s not my fault! I want a brother.”

“I have a lot of them. Six, to be exact,” I say. “Trust me when I say that it’s overrated.”

“What’s that mean?” Ryder asks.

Nate laughs. “Do you want to watch your show for a little bit until dinner?”

“Can I? We aren’t done cooking. You never let me watch TV until we’ve made dinner, eaten, and cleaned it all up.”

“I know. But you can get outta your work tonight. Just this once. Don’t get used to it.”

Ryder’s fist pumps up and down as he runs out of the kitchen toward the living room. Nate watches him with a smile.

“One of his chores is helping me make dinner,” he says, turning back to me. “As you can see, he’d rather be doing anything but this.”

I grab an onion. “He’ll appreciate it someday. Some of my favorite memories are helping my mom in the kitchen. I always loved to help her because it got me away from the boys in the house.”

“I bet your house was wild.”

“Yeah. That’s a fair assessment.” I grin as I remember some of their antics over the years. “They were always wrestling and trying to test their new moves out on me or adding me into their shenanigans because our parents gave in easier when I was involved. So if they wanted ice cream, I wanted ice cream. If they wanted to go to the water park, I did too. It was a lot of moving parts and personalities, but fun.”

Nate laughs. “Sounds about right.” He takes a box of spaghetti out of the cabinet. “Do you think you’ll have a family like that someday, or are you over that?”

I make a tiny cut in the onion and peel off the layers. Funny, I feel like he’s trying to peel mine back too.

“You know, I’m not sure,” I say, testing out my ability to be honest about personal things. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You’ve never thought about it?”

“No.” I chop the onions slowly. “I don’t know … I’m just not sure. I guess it’s a figure it out when you get there kind of thing.”