She leans against the counter, and an overhead fan nearly falls on her head. I move quickly to grab it. “Shit, Kins. That would have hurt.”
She frowns. “I know, I fixed it once, but the screws keep coming out.”
“I’ll fix it for you,” I say and examine the screws. “Do I have time to make it to the hardware store before you open again?”
“I can open without you. I ran this truck for months on my own.” She sighs. “You’ve done enough, Cason. You don’t have to come back.”
I pull her into my arms, my groin pressed against her stomach. “Don’t want me?”
“Oh, I want you. But you don’t have to be here. You probably have other more important things to do. I mean, on the phone this morning, not that I was trying to listen in, but—”
“Nothing more important than this,” I say, and her protest dies an abrupt death when my lips close over hers.
“Get a room already,” someone on the sidewalk says, and we turn to find Cole and Nina standing there, with my two awesome nephews, Brandon and Casey, named after me, of course.
“Hey guys,” I say, and lean over the counter.
“What are you doing uncle Cason?” Brandon asks, as he frowns up at me.
“Helping out a friend. You guys want a taco?” I ask.
Nina glances at Kinsley. “Is he being a nuisance? He was always underfoot in the kitchen growing up.”
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Kinsley laughs. “He’s been pretty good, actually.”
“Hear that Neaner-Neaner,” I say to piss her off and she glares at me.
“The tacos are on uncle Cason, boys,” Nina says. “Drinks, too. Order whatever you want.”
I laugh at that. “A dozen tacos coming up,” I say. “Go grab a seat at the bench, and I’ll bring them to you.”
As they saunter away, Kinsley and I make the food, and I put it all on a tray. “Come on,” I say. “Come sit with us for a bit.”
“No, they’re your family, Cason. I’m not going to interfere.”
“Listen wifey, get your sweet buns off this truck. You’ve been on your feet all day, and you’re taking a break. Husband’s orders.”
“Fine,” she says and takes off her apron. We walk to the picnic table, and I note the way Casey is staring at Kinsley. You never know what’s going to come out of the mouth of a two-year-old.
“I like your pink hair,” he says, and Kinsley smiles at him.
“Thank you, Casey. I like your t-shirt.”
“I like Paw Patrol,” he says as I hand out the tacos and napkins.
They all start to eat, and Nina moans. “Kinsley these are so good.”
“Excuse me,” I say. “I believe I made that one.”
Nina rolls her eyes at me and turns to Kinsley. Nina takes her hands. “Your ring is so gorgeous. Mom is going to love it.”
“Oh, we’re not telling your parents,” Kinsley says, and Nina frowns. “We don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”
“Do your parents know?”
“Yeah, because Cason is helping me out with something.”