For Fox Sake

Chapter 7

Ryan

Damn him and his politeness and his stupidly cute hot dog pajamas.

“Of course it’s okay.” I force brightness into my voice.

Great. Now I get to spend more time with the hot guy I verbally drowned with all my life’s greatest disasters.

“What time does it start?” Jake’s dark eyes lock with mine.

Heat fills my face. Why is he looking at me like that? Is there a screen on my forehead replaying every dirty thought I’ve had about him over the last week?

I can’t tell him he’s not invited. It would be rude, and Ari would be upset and ask why and I have no good reason other than the fact that I’m monumentally embarrassed.

Besides, there will be a lot of other people there. It’s not like I’ll have to talk to him the whole time. I will be busy running games and monitoring a gaggle of children.

He’ll probably show up for a second and leave. He’s new in town. He doesn’t know anyone.

“It starts at four.” To make it easier on the kids who still take afternoon naps. “Nothing fancy, some finger foods and cake and games and whatnot.”

His penetrating gaze finally moves away, landing on Ari, still sitting in the seat next to him. “What do you want for your birthday?”

I lift my hands. “Oh, you don’t have to?—”

But Ari cuts me off. “I want nail polish, an iPhone, a necklace, a puppy, new bedtime storybooks, three cookies, and new paints because mine got all dried out.”

“Three cookies?” He lifts a brow.

Ari nods emphatically.

I sigh. “I normally only let her have two.”

He chuckles.

“Come on. We have to leave for camp in twenty minutes. Why don’t you go grab your lunch and the toy you wanted to bring for share time? I have to talk to Jake for a second about work stuff.”

Ari wrinkles her nose. “Fine.”

She trudges back across the street, grabbing her scooter as she goes, moving as slowly as possible.

I make sure she’s safely on the sidewalk in front of our house before I turn back. “You don’t have to come.”

His head cocks to one side. “I want to. She’s a sweet kid. I’m always down for parties and cupcakes and games.” He claps his hands together. “Now, what can I get her that you haven’t already bought? Or maybe I can grab something that would help you both. Is she outgrowing any clothes? She’s at the age where growth spurts happen overnight.”

“That’s too true. Do you have kids?”

“No, but my family runs a kids camp back in Whitby and I’ve spent a lot of time with the campers. They’ll arrive on a Friday wearing pants that hit their shoes, and by the following week, their pants are above the ankle. It’s kind of incredible.”

I hate asking for anything, really, but this is Ari’s birthday and I can swallow my pride for her to have some new clothes. I donated a bunch of her old summer clothes a couple of weeks ago because she’s outgrown them.

“She could use some new shorts and T-shirts. She likes superheroes and anything in bright colors.”

“Size?”

“Six or seven.”

He nods. “Things to grow into. Got it. I’ll see you both tomorrow then.” His smile is easy and bright.

“Thanks.” I start down the porch steps and then stop and turn back around. “I’m sorry about the other day.”

He’s on his feet, his hand halfway to the doorknob. His brows draw together in confusion.

I clear my throat. “The whole info dump all over you earlier this week. At the hospital. I didn’t mean to make things weird or uncomfortable.”

His face clears. “It’s okay. Really. Sometimes you have to let out a little steam or else you’ll get burned.”

I nod, turning on my heel. “Thanks.”

“I like weird,” he says, the words so quiet I’m not sure I hear them correctly.

I spin around, but he’s already inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

* * *

“Why did I let you have a cupcake before the party?” I mutter under my breath.

“Because you’re a sucker.” Ari’s giant eyes are sparkling even as I’m swiping chocolate frosting off of her chin.

“We need to change your shirt.”

Her hand lifts. “You know it will just get dirty again.”

Smartass. “That might be true, but what about the green one?”

Her nose wrinkles. “I can’t wear green to my party.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not a party color.”

“Of course. I should have known.”

I finish cleaning off her face and then assist in tugging the dirty shirt up over her head. “Pick something. I have to set out snacks. Your friends will be here any minute.” I take the shirt through the kitchen and into the laundry room, squirting it with stain remover and tossing it in the washer.

“Hey.” Bernie’s voice rings through the house. “I’m here and ready to help with whatever you need. And I brought more masks.”

I meet her in the kitchen. “You are a goddess.”

She bows while handing me the bag of superhero masks. “The goddess of children’s parties all over the land. Now what do you need?”

We spend the next twenty minutes setting up the games in the backyard and filling one of the picnic tables with drinks and snacks.

The doorbell rings, then it rings again and again and time becomes a blur of greeting guests, showing them where to put presents, handing out the superhero masks, and general mayhem. Some parents stay to hang out, others drop and run, and by the time it’s all said and done we’ve got a house full of ten hyper kids and almost the same number of parents.

It takes a little bit of maneuvering, but I eventually herd all the kids into the backyard around one of the picnic tables for the first game.

We’ve set up a row of paper cups filled with miniature superheroes frozen in ice. Next to the cups are brightly colored water guns, one per kid.

I clap my hands to get their attention. “The game is called Superhero Rescue. Frozen inside each of these cups are two superhero figurines. We’re going to cut the ice blocks out of the cups, and when I say go, you will use the water guns filled with warm water to melt the ice and rescue the heroes. If you run out of water, we’ve got a bucket where you can refill it over by the door. First team to free their figurine wins the prize. Are there any questions?”

Bruce, a dark-haired boy from Ari’s school, shoots his hand in the air.

“Yes, Bruce?”

“Can we have cake first?” A line of chocolate is smeared over his chin.

“Bruce, honey, did you already have some cake?” his mom asks.

His eyes widen. “No.”

I smother a laugh. “Just pick out your gun. We’ll have cake soon, okay?”

There’s a shuffling of squirt guns around the table and only a couple of slight disagreements over the purple one before all of the kids are ready.

“Ready, set, go!”

Laughter and anarchy ensue. Bruce screams like a banshee and squirts any and everything within his target range.

No more cake for Bruce.

“Try not to get your friends wet,” I call out, but no one listens. No one is getting upset, yet, so I let it slide. I keep an eye on their progress for a minute, and then Bernie’s laugh catches my attention.

She’s sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs over by the unlit firepit, talking with Jake.

My stomach flips.

When did he get here? Bernie must’ve answered the door for him.

He says something and she reaches over, patting his arm.

My stomach twists.

They work together. I’m sure that’s how they know each other and it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s fine. She can like him. She’s single, childless, and awesome. It has nothing to do with me.

I wrench my gaze back to the game and focus on refereeing some of the kids with poor aim who keep hitting their friends with the water instead of the frozen superheroes.

Once the game is done, I make the executive decision to have food and cake now, so the kids can burn off some of the sugar with the rest of the activities.

Bernie helps me with cutting and distributing the cake, and we keep it all outside to help with the eventual cleanup.

When we’ve handed out the last slice, she nudges me with her elbow and angles her head toward mine. “You didn’t tell me Donuts is your neighbor. You know he works at the hospital?”

“Donuts?”

“Jake. He brought donuts on his first day to try and kiss all our asses.”

I chuckle. “Ah. Big mistake.”

“Huge.”

“I saw him at the hospital when I was there last week. He’s renting the house across the street.”

No need to mention how he bought me groceries, the intensely personal conversation we had, or how I wanted to rip off his hot dog pajamas yesterday morning and have my wicked way with him.

“What do you think about him?” she asks.

I follow Bernie’s gaze across the yard to where Jake is standing, eating cake and talking to Bruce’s dad.

One of the kids walks up to them and says something, and Jake spreads his lips in a feral grin, exposing chocolate-covered teeth.

The kids around him bust up laughing.

“What do you mean what do I think about him? I barely know him.” I bite my lip. “Except when we were talking at the hospital I sort of lost it and word-gurgitated all over him. About Mom, Mia, and...” I sigh. “I wordgitated on him.” I guess I am going to mention that conversation. I’ve never withheld anything from Bernie, no matter how embarrassing.

She snorts out a laugh. “How did that go?”

“Surprisingly well. He didn’t run away screaming or tell anyone else about it, if you haven’t heard anything so... there’s that.”

“Yeah. He’s pretty cool. I was thinking about asking him out.”

My gaze snaps back to her profile. My entire body clenches in horror at the image of Bernie with Jake.

But that’s not fair.

“You should go for it. He seems nice.” I push the words out, struggling to remain nonchalant.

Bernie laughs. “Relax, I was messing with you. I’ll stay off your territory.”

My face heats and the tension in my body ratchets up a notch. “He’s not my territory. You can do what you want with him.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. You always do this thing where you act like you don’t like someone, but then your shoulders are up by your ears,” she motions to me, “and you look ridiculous.”

I force my shoulders to relax. “I don’t do that.”

“Uh, yeah you do. It’s obvious you have a thing for him.”

Dammit. I don’t even know him, but I do like him. At least the looks of him. I don’t want to like him. I don’t want to get close just to discover he’s terrible in some way. And that will be the inevitable end. It’s so much better when you can build someone up in your mind and not find out their imperfections.

“Obvious?” The thought is terrifying. “Why would you say that?”

“You looked over at him a minute ago and your pupils turned into hearts and pulsed outside your eyes like a cartoon character.” She puts a hand on my shoulder before I can voice any kind of denial. “Don’t worry, I can only tell because I know you so well. He’s as oblivious to your tells as you are to his.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you’re not looking, he stares at you like Ari looks at her cape. Also, he’s been asking around about you.”

“He did? When?”

“At the hospital. I overheard him talking to?—”

“Ryan, thanks for having us.” Michelle rests a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. She lives a few blocks over and has a five-year-old daughter. “We have a family obligation to get to. But Ari is still coming over next weekend for a sleepover, right?”

“She’ll be there.” We take turns having the girls over, alternating every month, giving Michelle and her husband a chance for a date night and giving me a night without Ari, a night to work or clean or sit around wondering what the heck normal twenty-somethings do on a weekend night. We say goodbye, and I give her daughter, Angelica, a goodie bag before they leave.

After everyone finishes cake, we go through a few more outdoor activities: a ball toss, pin the cape on the superhero, and a spi?ata—the less violent version of a pi?ata. Then the whole group heads inside and fills the living room while Ari opens presents on the couch, oohing and ahhing over each and every one, hugging every person who brought her a gift, which makes it take twice as long but I’m not going to stop her.

The entire time, Jake is a palpable presence, hovering at the edges of the room and making small talk with the other parents.

After the presents are all opened, things start winding down. I chat with everyone I can while people continue to snack on the finger foods set out. People trickle their way out the door. Before I know it, I’m saying goodbye to the last of the guests, and it’s only Ari and me and the house is quiet and getting darker by the minute.

When did Jake leave? He must have snuck out when I was helping Bernie take some of the leftover cake to her car so she could bring it to the hospital in the morning to share with the staff. He didn’t say goodbye.

It doesn’t matter.

I eyeball the living room. It’s not too much of a mess. My eyes trail over some wrapping paper crumpled up on the floor and ribbon strewn over the side of the couch arm.

The backyard is another matter entirely, not to mention the kitchen. I should get the snacks put away and a load of dishes in at the very least. I won’t be able to sleep until it’s somewhat tidied up, and Ari still needs to take a bath.

“Ari?” I call out. Where is she? I glance down the hall, but the bathroom and bedrooms are dark. The backyard light is still on though.

I push open the door.

“If you make this one, I’ll stand on my head and crow like a rooster.”

Ari’s laughter echoes through the night air.

Jake is holding up a big black garbage bag, stretched open. About ten feet away, Ari is holding an empty soda can. She chucks it toward him, and he shifts the bag so that the can lands inside.

“She shoots, she scores!”

Ari claps and yells, laughing. “Now you have to stand on your head and crow.”

He didn’t leave. He’s cleaning up the mess, and he roped Ari into it by turning it into a game.

Shit.

He might actually be perfect.