Yeah. A liger.
Emma walked by and stared down at them, hands on her hips. “Is this how you two spend a Sunday morning?”
“We would have gone to church, but we didn’t want to get fried by lightning,” Trace said innocently.
“If you—”
“Neeeerrrrroooom!” Seth squealed in rapture.
“It wouldn’t be—”
“Bbbbbbbrrrrrrwwwww.”
His son nearly fell from his perch, saved by some quick maneuvering from Trace.
Emma eyed him narrowly. “That’s not—”
“Pfffffttttt.”
“Amusing!” she yelled before he could make another plane noise. She dropped the wet dish towel on Peyton’s face, stifling his sister’s laughter. “Just for that, Trace Muldoon, you get to go on the grocery run.”
He froze, Seth still stuck in a half nosedive. “Aw, Emma. C’mon.”
“Someone’s gotta go, and you just got yourself nominated.” The housekeeper shot him a grin a shark would turn tail and hide from. “I’ll have the list ready in ten minutes.”
Peyton turned and watched him for a moment. “Don’t even think about hiding. She’ll just find you and add more to the list. I know. I tried it once.”
“Damn,” he muttered and lowered Seth to his chest. “Well, little man, looks like we’re going shopping.” He shot his sister a look. “Unless Auntie Peyton wants to bond with you a little… .”
“We bonded last night. I’m off poop duty today.” She rolled to her stomach and pushed up to her feet. “Besides, you had your hot date last night. I’ve got one for myself today.”
“Where’s Red taking you?”
“Red?” She huffed a laugh. “I’ve got a buyer coming in. One with quite a bit of disposable income, if word is correct.”
Since Red was likely where she got the word, and Red knew everything, Trace figured correct was an understatement. “Good luck with that.”
“You should hustle back and talk to the guy. He saw you and Red about two months ago.”
“Name?”
She described the man and he shook his head. “Don’t remember.”
“Well, either way, he was impressed with both of you. Try to get back so you can pander and strut a little.” She reached over and pinched his cheek before he could evade. “The customers really like it when you boys strut.”
“Trace!” Bea’s voice carried down the stairs like a whip. “Are you going to the grocery store?”
“Yeah,” he called back up. “If your list isn’t ready in five minutes, it’s not coming with me.”
“I’m coming with you. I need things and I can’t trust you to get them.”
“What the hell, am I incompetent?”
Her head popped around the railing, as if leaning over without taking the next few steps down. She smirked at him. “Fine, if you want to pick up my tampons for me …”
“You have ten minutes to be in the car.” He rolled his eyes and hitched Seth up on his hip. “Time to get changed. They don’t let men shop in their footie PJs at the store.”
Jo opened her small pantry and scoffed. Right. Should she have the stale bread or the handful of goldfish crackers for breakfast? She let the doors close with a snap and tried the fridge. Unfortunately, it seemed her grocery shopping genie hadn’t shown up for work. After a quick debate, she decided she needed to suck it up and get some food. Real food. Not just whatever she could make herself from the stash downstairs. Adult food.
She dressed quickly, not bothering with makeup. An old sweatshirt, a pair of jeans from the floor, and her long hair in its customary ponytail and she was ready to rock. She grabbed her keys from the table and locked the door behind her. She’d only get a few bags and walk rather than drive the three blocks. It was the beauty of living above the bar. Everything was handy.
She was nearly down the stairs when she spotted the truck sitting at the curb. Her heart did a traitorous little dive into her gut before she realized it wasn’t Trace’s.
Jeff stepped out and she groaned. Her first thought was why me? The second was … how long had he sat in the truck waiting for her? How long had he already been there?
Jeff stood by the side of the truck and waited for her to hit the bottom step. She debated walking on and making him chase her if he wanted something, but that seemed petty. He wasn’t worth even a petty gesture.
“I came over to apologize. I’m sorry.”
The words softened her. A little. But not much. The kid looked like hell, though, and that softened her more. “You should be.”