I got the door with my foot and came into the kitchen. The smell hit me immediately. Meat. Limes. Tacos. I was so ready for some tacos. I missed tacos.
The kitchen was organized chaos. Becca stood at the stove with a dish towel over her shoulder and a wooden spoon in her hand. Ground beef sizzled in a pan. She added more seasoning and stirred. Summer was at the island with her hair piled up and what I was going to guess was a virgin margarita in a glass beside her. She was peeling shrimp. That was going to make the tacos even better. Back home, we were big on the carne asada. But I loved a shrimp taco as well.
She looked up when I came in, with a bright smile on her face. We’d texted a bit and I knew what she was wearing under that tank top and shorts. She was coming over after dinner. And we weren’t hiding it.
“You brought groceries,” she said. “I told you not to bring anything.”
“I brought dessert,” I said, setting the bags on the counter. “And something for the kids.”
I kept the box of water guns behind my back. She narrowed her eyes at me.
“What’s behind your back?”
“Nothing.”
“Colt.”
“Where are the kids?”
“Outside with Dad and Sheryl.” She set down a shrimp and dried her hands on the dish towel. She took two steps toward me and I took one step back. “Show me what’s behind your back.”
“You’ll find out when everyone else does.”
Becca looked over her shoulder from the stove. “Whatever it is, if it makes noise, it sleeps at your house tonight. With the kids that make it make noise.”
“It doesn’t make noise,” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
Summer was still watching me. I slid the box onto the shelf of the pantry behind a bag of rice where she wouldn’t see it and came back to the island. I leaned across it and kissed her quickly, tasting the strawberry on her lips.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi yourself.” She turned back to her shrimp. “Dad and Sheryl are outside. Go say hello.”
“Do I get a drink first?”
“Help yourself,” Becca said. “Pitcher is in the fridge.”
I poured myself one and took a long drink. “Good,” I said.
“Thanks,” Becca replied.
“Do you guys need help?”
“Nope, go,” Summer said.
I went out through the sliding door to the back patio. Gideon was standing at the railing with a drink in one hand and his other arm resting on the rail, looking out at the water. Sheryl was beside him with her shoulder against his. They were talking quietly and I almost turned back inside to give them the moment, but Gideon heard the door and looked over.
“Colt,” he said.
“Evening.” I crossed the patio and shook his hand. His grip was the same as it had always been. “Sheryl.”
She smiled and extended her hand. “Good to see you again.”
“You too.”
We’d been doing the family dinner thing the last month. It was good. It kept me from getting too homesick.