Chapter 13 Silas
SILAS
My exposure to anyone younger than eighteen was limited to Val’s baby, Gigi, who was just learning how to crawl, and occasional family-themed events with the Devils.
Sure, I’d played my fair share of tag, keep-away, and Marco Polo with my teammates’ kids, but I was kinda nervous to have dinner with Cooper and his minions.
I shouldn’t have been. Ivy and Chase were cool kids with big energy.
“I made salmon, couscous, and green bean gremolata for dinner,” Ivy announced as she opened the door. “I was going to serve a kale salad as well, but the chopping takes forever and I sort of ran out time.”
“Phew! I hate kale,” Chase huffed, plucking at the lacing on a football. “Do you like it, Silas?”
“Uh…yeah, but I like green beans more,” I replied, unzipping my jacket. “I came with gifts. Wine for your dad and Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs for you guys. I didn’t know if you were peanut butter people, but—”
“Heck yeah, we are!” Chase whooped.
“Thank you.” Ivy smiled and motioned for me to follow her into the great room.
Chase was at my heels, football still in hand. “There’s a kid in my class who’s allergic to nuts. We can’t bring peanut butter to school, or he’ll like die of…peanut butter fumes or something.”
I scratched my nape and pursed my lips. Allergies were serious business, but Chase’s delivery was unintentionally pure comedy. Thankfully, the sexy lumberjack with twinkling eyes got there first.
“So you brought peanut butter fumes with you?” he asked in greeting. “Wine or beer?”
“We have lemonade too,” Ivy piped in. “And bubbly water.”
“Wow. I haven’t had lemonade in forever. I’ll have one of those, please.”
“I’ll get that for you,” Cooper said. “Chase, you’re on table-setting duty.”
Chase scrunched his nose in a universal “ugh” face. “I was going to ask Silas if he wanted to play catch first. We’re gonna lose the light, Dad.”
“Then I’d get going if I were you.” Cooper’s tone brooked no argument. Chase wisely left the football on a barstool and got to work with only a little minor grumbling.
I took a seat at the island and swiveled toward the great room, noting the kid detritus on the coffee table that hadn’t been there a few days ago—iPads with colorful cases, a library book with a wizard on the cover, and a set of playing cards.
In the kitchen, light jazz music drifted through a portable speaker on the counter, Ivy stirred a pot on the stove, and Chase carried a stack of plates into the adjoining dining room while Cooper poured lemonade into a tall glass.
The scene was so homey, it almost didn’t seem real.
It was a startling contrast to the quiet that had filled the space when the kids weren’t here.
“Thank you.” I raised the glass of lemonade in a toast and grinned at my host. “And thanks for the invitation.”
“You’re welcome. How was your day?” Cooper’s voice was smooth as honey and deep enough to reverberate in my chest.
“Not bad. I took a hike on the ridge overlooking Elmwood. I thought about walking into town from there, but the sign said it was another couple of miles and I was pooped.”
“Did you see any bears?” Chase asked, racing into the kitchen to grab some napkins.
“No bears. Thank fu—goodness.”
Cooper smirked as he uncapped a water bottle. “Good.”
“I’m almost done,” Chase reported on his way back to the dining area.
I nodded in acknowledgment, my gaze locked on his dad. “How about you?”
“Meetings. Lots of meetings.”
“No axes?”
He cocked his head in confusion, then barked a laugh. “I wish I’d thought of bringing an axe to my meetings, but no…sorry.”
“You should be. You’re singlehandedly killing the lumberjack mystique for me,” I snarked.
“Dad’s the boss at the mill,” Ivy said from the stove. “He doesn’t climb trees anymore, but he used to. We have some funny pictures of him in his old gear. I can show you after dinner.”
Cooper shook his head. “I don’t think Silas is interested in old photographs.”
“You’d be wrong there,” I assured him, sneaking in a sly grin while his daughter’s back was to us. “I’m very interested.”
His badass “dad” glare didn’t work on me this time. I chuckled merrily and sipped my lemonade until Chase stormed into the kitchen, scooped up his football, and all but shoved me outside.
I tossed the ball with Chase while Cooper helped Ivy finish dinner prep.
Chase was a likable albeit super chatty kid.
He bounced from topic to topic like a renegade pinball.
I initially thought he was excited to spend time with a pro athlete, but after ten minutes of nonstop questions and non sequiturs with more twists and turns than a roller coaster, I got the impression that this was just Chase.
Things I learned: He had two besties, Adam and Rhys.
Adam lived in Fallbrook and Rhys was Uncle Reg’s son here in Wood Hollow.
Did I know that Uncle Reg was his dad’s best friend?
Rhys was super funny and he liked to play video games, but Chase had talked him into trying flag football, a decision he sort of regretted ’cause Rhys could throw the ball way farther than Chase could.
“I think he has an unfair advantage,” Chase groused, suddenly sounding much older than nine.
“How so?” I asked, launching the ball in a high arc I hoped would give him a chance to track and position himself to catch it.
And he did. Chase beamed a bright, toothy grin and threw a short ball that had me scrambling.
“He lives here and he gets to play football every day if he wants. Even at recess. The kids at my school only want to play football during the regular season. Or they want to play soccer. I’m pretty good at soccer. Not great, though. You have to run a lot.”
He wanted to know if I liked running, raisins, and if I had a dog.
Yes to running, indifferent to raisins, and sadly…
“No dog. I’m not home enough to take care of one,” I replied just as Cooper called us in for dinner.
We washed our hands, then joined Cooper and Ivy in the dining room.
Dinner was amazing. Truly amazing. The fish was perfectly prepared, the couscous had currants, mint, and pine nuts in it—freaking incredible. And the green beans were fantastic too.
I complimented the chef, who blushed profusely and admitted that it was one of her better meals.
“Thanks. I like cooking.” Ivy wiggled in her seat and gave a self-deprecating shrug that reminded me of her dad. “Fish is a little tricky for me. I overcooked it the last time I tried to make it.”
I stabbed a forkful of green beans. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
Chase made a face but wisely didn’t comment.
“It was pretty inemitable.”
“Inedible,” her dad corrected. “It happens to the best of us. Remember the time I burned spaghetti noodles?”
The kids chuckled.
“That was funny. The house smelled like burnt rubber,” Chase reported.
“We had to throw out the pot, and it was the only one we had. You’re a much better cook now, Dad.” Ivy smiled at her father, patting his hand fondly. It was easy to see she adored him.
They both did.
Interesting thing about the McMurrys: Any tale of an unfortunate event was quickly followed by a success story.
The time Chase thought he could swim without ever having had a lesson and almost drowned.
But two years later, he won the freestyle race at the rec center in Elmwood.
Ivy was one of the last kids in her class to learn how to read due to a late dyslexia diagnosis.
Now, she gobbled books faster than the library could stock her favorites.
I dabbed my mouth with a napkin. “What’s your favorite genre?”
“I like mysteries and ghost stories. I’m reading a book about a wizard now, though. It’s like modern Merlin, and it’s so good,” she gushed.
“Wow. That’s cool. Geez, you can do it all. Sports, cooking, reading…”
“I know karate too,” Chase bragged, jumping up to deliver a sideways kick to an imaginary foe.
“Badass.” I immediately winced. “Sh-shoot! Sorry.”
The kids snickered gleefully. “Language!”
Cooper nudged my shin under the table and winked. I felt my cheeks heat as I returned the nudge, stretching my leg to maintain contact. He didn’t pull away. And the warmth of his clandestine touch made me feel gooey inside.
“Do you have a dog?” Ivy asked over a dessert of ice cream with the choice of chocolate sauce or berries. Much to the kids’ amazement, I’d chosen both the sauce and the berries.
“He already told me he doesn’t,” Chase reported. “You’re not home enough, right?”
“Right,” I confirmed, spooning up a bite that was sure to give me brain-freeze. “What about you guys?”
Chase and Ivy swiveled to stare at their dad on cue. Their timing was so in tune, I had to laugh.
Cooper raised a brow at them and leveled me with a put-upon glare. “You literally walked into that trap.”
“Uh-oh. Sore subject, eh?”
“No, but—”
“Dad says no one is home during the day, and that’s why we can’t get one,” Chase said around a mouthful of ice cream.
Ivy took the proverbial baton and continued, “Mom says they’re a big responsibility, and she’d end up doing all the work. We try telling her that we’ll feed it and walk it—”
“And even pick up poop,” Chase interrupted.
“But no…” Ivy’s long blond hair fell across her forehead like a curtain. “Dad loves dogs more than Mom anyway, so we’re trying to talk him into adopting a rescue.”
I eyed their extremely hunky dad, my lips pursed in amusement. “How’s that going?”
“Terrible.”
“Not good,” Chase concurred.
Cooper sighed heavily, lifting his spoon to his mouth, then hovering it above his bowl. “Someday, we will.”
“Sunday? I think he said Sunday!” Ivy teased.
“Woohoo! Yes!” Chase punched a triumphant fist in the air.
Cooper snickered at their antics. “What am I gonna do with these knuckleheads?”
I just smiled.
I was too dazzled with all this wholesome sweetness. A good meal in a warm homey atmosphere with a loving family, and friendly conversation. I was grateful Cooper had shared this most important piece of his life with me. I felt honored to be included.