Tim shrugs. “Well, yeah. I mean, everybody stayed pretty close to home I guess.”
I have to bite my lips together. I don't know what to say.
“It's not that bad, right?” Charlie asks uncertainly. “Hey, are you okay? I mean, if you really hate it we could probably find you a bedroom up in the big house? Vanessa?”
I wave my hand in the air, trying to figure out what I'm feeling. I swallow hard.
“No, it's pretty perfect,” I choke out. “It's just… I mean, your whole family has been here all this time. Like really together. Like really all the time. I mean… it's just so…”
Stan puts his big, thick arms around me, holding me close. I'm not really sure what I'm feeling, but it's making me shake all over.
“Take your time,” he murmurs against my hair. “It's a lot to take in, I get it.”
I force myself to breathe in and out, drawing comfort from his large, sturdy presence and his deep, masculine scent. Behind us, I hear the sound of windows scraping open and doors squeaking on their hinges.
“All clear on the raccoons,” Hank observes. I hear the tap go on in the bathroom. “Well seems to be working too. And hey, you've got lights!”
Stan brushes his palm against my hair. I almost want to purr, feeling relief seep through me at his touch.
“So, what do you think?” he asks me.
I push away from him, gently resuming my inspection. It really is an adorable space, rustic and tidy. Quaint. Charming, even. There's a large fluffy bed in the corner with a slight valley in the middle. A chest of drawers stands next to a modestly sized closet.
“I think it's completely perfect,” I admit. “I mean… I couldn't come up with anything better. I think it's completely amazing.”
“Okay, then, it suits you,” Tom grins, raising his eyebrows. “And Stan, quit hogging the girl, would you? You're not supposed to keep her all to yourself, you know.”
Stan backs up with his hands raised. “My bad. Sorry if I got carried away.”
I raise one eyebrow and squint with some sass.
“Is that how it really is with you guys?”
“All for one and one for all,” Charlie shrugs. “Sometimes Stan gets carried away, since he's the oldest. He thinks he’s in charge.”
“Well sometimes Charlie gets carried away because he's got the biggest mouth,” Stan observes wryly.
“Whatever. Just ask Hank. It's basically his job to keep score,” Tim shrugs.
Hank scoffs. “Whatever. I'm not keeping score. I trust everybody to do their stuff.”
“Their stuff?” I counter. “Is that what I am? Stuff?”
“Not just stuff,” Tom winks. “The best stuff.”
“Oh, I'm the best, am I?” I challenge, perching both fists on my hips and squaring off. They line up in front of me, smiling and eager like they enjoy facing off. “The best out of what, exactly? What, do you have a stable or something around here? Is that where you keep the extra girls?”
“Hmm...That's not a bad idea,” Tom muses.
Stan immediately punches him in the shoulder. They seem to do that a lot.
“Don't listen to him! He doesn't get out much and apparently forgot how to show any manners.”
“So are there?” I ask again, looking right at Hank. He's the most guarded, I can tell. He only hangs back by half an inch, but I feel he's holding something back.
“Other what?” he asks.
“More women? Hanging around, I mean?”