I set it on the counter next to the others. The bowls were a festive green, yellow, and blue, and so very them.
“Found it!” Eric yelled as he raced back into the room lugging a bright red toolbox.
He set it on the coffee table and cleared off some of the magazines from the sofa.
Lexie carried two bowls and three spoons over and sat beside him. She offered him a bowl and spoon.
“Four scoops?” His eyes widened.
“We worked hard today.” She lifted her spoon and clinked with his. Then she scooted closer to him to make room for me.
I accepted the offered spoon, though I felt a little shafted I didn’t get the clink.
Eric watched as I dipped it into the soft ice cream and brought it to my mouth. The sweetness melted as soon as it hit my tongue. I chewed on a fresh strawberry and swallowed.
I wasn’t much for sweets, but this was . . . “That’s . . .”
“Amazing,” Eric finished for me once more.
My face felt strange as it formed into something unfamiliar. A smile. “Absolutely.” I took another bite. “I’m pretty sure you’ve ruined me for all other ice cream.”
Lexie’s shoulders straightened and her chest puffed as she took her own bite.
“Told you it’s the best in the universe,” Eric said smugly before proceeding to devour half of his bowl.
I savored mine even as it began to melt. Lexie inhaled the contents of her bowl even faster than her brother.
Beau was definitely a healthy eater, but I hadn’t been around many other women at mealtime. I tried to remember my mother at a lunch or dinner and grew frustrated when the memory wouldn’t come.
Another thing I’d lost over time.
“Are you sure you like it?” Lexie asked quietly.
My spoon was stabbed into a scoop and my knuckles were white. “I—yes.” How did I explain I’d lost my appetite for reasons that had nothing to do with her?
I forced another bite in my mouth, not wanting to insult them.
Eric showed me every piece in his toolbox while I struggled to give him my full attention. I was interested, but I’d rocketed to a bad place and wasn’t used to having an audience for that.
Lexie touched his knee. “Go get the painting you finished last week.”
He was off again.
She picked up his empty ice cream bowl. “You can sneak out now.”
I blinked at her. “I beg your pardon.”
“Your eyes are glazed over. He’ll forgive you if you want to go.”
I snapped out of my funk. “I’m interested.”
“Oh yeah?” She picked up some shiny metal tool. “What’s this?”
I opened my mouth and closed it.
“That’s what I thought.”
Shit. I’d pissed her off without meaning to, and this time it wasn’t fun.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Why had I said that? Why was I shifting the blame to her?
She flipped on the faucet. Was she trying to drown me out?
“I didn’t know it was time to do dishes. I’ll help.” Eric dropped the canvas from his hands and detoured to the sink.
It wasn’t my home, but I felt like a chump for not thinking of volunteering to help too. I finished my ice cream and shrugged off my jacket. Once I set my bowl on the counter, I rolled up my sleeves.
“What are you doing?” Lexie asked sharply.
“Dishes.” I picked up a towel and dried the plate she’d just rinsed.
“Go away.” She clamped her lips shut like she hadn’t meant to speak her mind. Or maybe not that way in front of Eric.
But it was refreshing.
I took the clean fork from her fingers, surprised that I was doing something so mundane as wiping up dishes. My life was so rarely unscripted . . . that this felt odd, but strangely good. Leave. Go, like Lexie wants. But . . . “Don’t think I can do that.”
Chapter Ten
Lexie
Go away.
Go away.
Go away.
I dug the heel of my hand into my skull, willing the image of Lincoln with his sleeves rolled up out of my head.
It didn’t work.
Nothing had.
I’d even taken a melatonin before bed, but it never kicked in. My mind worked overtime with the entire afternoon and evening’s events. Lincoln had left hours ago, but he’d invaded our space.
Eric had talked nonstop about him until we called it a night.
I had to shut that down.
What had he done that was so spectacular anyway? Eaten ice cream? Done some dishes? Big whoop.
Another flash of the way his forearms flexed as he dried an entire sink’s worth of dishes stabbed me in the brain. How was he tan anyway? It was April, for Pete’s sake.
At least he could’ve solved the mystery as to why he’d never had strawberry ice cream. Not that I cared. It probably wasn’t all that interesting.
I punched my pillow.
“Go away,” I grumbled into it.
We had a crazy full Monday ahead of us. I couldn’t afford the loss of even an hour of sleep, let alone an entire night. I’d be toast tomorrow and probably the rest of the week.
And it was all Lincoln’s fault.
I held the pillow over my face.
No. It was mine. I never should’ve stopped at the burnt Grey Paws. That was what led to this entire blasted day.
“Rise and shine, sis.”
Light floated in from the hallway when I turned my head at the sound of my sweet brother’s voice.
“Already?” I tossed the pillow away and tried to straighten out my attitude.
“We can’t start off Monday grumpy,” he sing-songed. “That sets the tone for the rest of the week.”
Argh. Why had I imparted those words of wisdom on him? I supposed so he could throw them back in my face now.
“What’s for breakfast?” I forced myself out of bed and stretched.
“Donuts,” he suggested hopefully.
This was where I was supposed to say no and suggest something nutritious and filling. But I hadn’t slept and stuffing my face in a box of donuts sounded like the perfect way to get me moving.
“I like it.” I high-fived him. “Now what color are we wearing today?”
“Fuchsia.” He switched on the bedside lamp and bolted to my closet. In seconds, he found what he was looking for. “You look pretty in this dress.”
My eyes stung at the compliment. No sleep didn’t help my emotions either. It was my brother’s sweet spirit and positive outlook no matter what that touched my soul. “Thanks, bow tie.”
“You two are stunning today.”
Eric and I each carried a box through the shop door.
“Thanks, Garrison.” I set mine on the counter. This was our first stop and I was already dragging. The compliment helped, even if only temporarily.
“Boy, am I glad to see your faces.” He slid the box toward him and cut it open. “I’m already out of what you brought Friday.”
“Really?” Eric added his load to the counter. “People like it!” He beamed.
“They do. And so do their dogs.” Garrison restocked the glass jars in a refrigerated case.