“We won’t get near as much done if we’re not here,” I pointed out.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure that I want to keep working on it anyway. Honestly, I think I might tell my dad to sell it.”
“You know,” Banks said conversationally. “Darby wanted to buy this place when the old man showed signs of sickness. He almost offered to do just that, but Ace vetoed him.”
Way’s eyes once again came back to me.
“You want to buy it?” she offered.
I opened my mouth to say no but the smoke detector in the room started to sound, signaling the burned dinner that we all completely forgot about.
“Guess that means you can go out to eat with us.” Candy clapped her hands. “That was what we were coming to ask you. If we could take you both out to dinner.”
“I got one better,” Way suggested as she pushed the pan off of the burner to the back of the stove. “Who’s up for a movie?”
Banks and Darby laughed together as I directed Banks where to pull in.
“You’re taking us to the Apache for dinner?” Candy asked excitedly.
“Well,” Way hesitated. “Kind of. The cook is there with Gibson trying out samples, and I think I can convince Gibson to play something other than porn for the night.”
Banks and Candy laughed. I smirked at my girl.
Gibson, who was with a big bald man named Chester, was more than willing to let us try the food.
“I’m stuffed full of fried food right now,” Gibson said as he pushed a basket of fries at me. “Please, do me a favor and try everything else on the menu.”
So that was exactly what we all did.
We tried fries, cheese sticks, chili cheese dogs, and everything else that you could possibly find that was bad for you.
Then, when we were done, we all got a fried Twinkie and sat in the back of Banks’ truck and watched the original Aladdin movie, which is my favorite movie ever.
“Best night ever,” Candy teased as she bit into a fried Oreo.
“Hey, where did you get that?” Banks asked.
“I went to the bathroom, and Gibson forced it into my hand,” she said, offering a bite to my brother.
I watched as Banks leaned forward and took more than his fair share.
“Hey!” she said accusingly.
Banks waggled his brows at her and gestured to the screen. “Your favorite part is on.”
Apparently, Candy’s favorite part was when the monkey came on the screen. Any of the scenes that had Abu in there, she was enthralled.
“I want a monkey,” Candy sighed.
“I think I need to try one of those,” Way said as she bounced off of the tailgate and made her way through the gravel toward the ordering window.
“I like her, Darby,” Candy said softly. “You should put a ring on it.”
Banks made a murmuring sound of agreement.
“Not the marrying part, though,” Banks said. “The ‘I like her’ part. Though, I wouldn’t say no to you marrying her, either. She’s a good egg.”
She was a good ‘egg’ as Banks called it.
I loved everything about Waylynn.
“You’re serious about us moving back onto the land?” I asked. “Ace won’t have a shit fit?”
“Ace didn’t have a shit fit when you were living there,” Banks corrected me. “He may not have liked how things ended, you taking a job, but he never really wanted you to go.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
But to be back with my family felt very important to me.
“Okay,” I sighed. “We’ll move it tomorrow.”
Banks’ grin was evil as he said, “And, selfishly, it’ll be nice to have someone around that’ll break up the constant pissiness of Ace and Callum.”
“There is constant whining,” Candy said, licking her fingers clean of the cream that’d leaked out onto her fingertips.
Before she could get it all, Banks caught her wrist and pulled her fingers to his mouth.
I gagged and said, “I’m going to get another beer.”
When I walked up behind Way who was swaying her ass to the song that Aladdin was singing, she smiled at me over her shoulder.
“What are you getting?” she asked.
“Another beer,” I answered, holding up a finger to Gibson.
He gave me a head tilt and pulled me another beer from the fridge.
Handing it to me absently, he went back to looking through a stack of papers.
I opened the beer and moved until I was leaning against the counter next to Way as she watched her funnel cake being made.
“Looks good,” she said.
“I thought you were getting a fried Oreo,” I said.
“Me, too,” she said. “But then he said he had the stuff for funnel cakes, and I momentarily forgot about the Oreos.”
I chuckled as she practically danced when the man handed it to her.
“Thank you.” She smiled at him.
When she turned, the powdered sugar on top of the cake caught in the wind, spraying her neck and shirt.