She settled onto the sofa next to him, and picked up the small plate with neatly angular sliced peanut butter toast. While her stomach screamed, “No! It’s sticky cardboard not food!” her brain reminded her stomach that it was this or her next meal wouldn’t stay down, and she forced a bite. “I’m wondering what to call you,” she said with a full mouth, the peanut butter sticking to the roof of her mouth.
“How about Ryder?” he suggested with a teasing laugh, glowy blue eyes studying her as if to memorize every detail.
“Baby daddy,” Evan called from the fridge, staring blankly into the thing until he would inevitably decide on hardboiled eggs and a handful of blueberries in his attempt to find his six-pack again, thanks to dating a professional athlete—who exercised for hours every day and ate nutritionally calculated, prepared meals.
“Icky,” Zoe grumbled, withholding judgment about his perhaps unhealthy relationship whilst hers was a bungled mess. He’d figure it out. Hopefully.
Enjoying himself immensely, Evan came out with a pair of eggs from yesterday’s batch and cracked them on a plate. “Sperm donor.”
“Veto,” she answered as she shoved more dry breakfast into her mouth. “Quarterback sneak?”
“Magic condom-evading ejaculator guy.” Evan grinned and crunched into an apple to punctuate his cleverness.
Ryder looked back and forth between them, his eyebrows drawn together trying to solve the puzzle, but his tongue teased between his teeth with humor. “Do you two do this often?”
Zoe shrugged and set down the toast, unable to bear another bite of the dry stuff. “Maybe. Why?”
His brow scrunched and his smile dropped, as he seemed to search his memory. “I don't do this—that—with my siblings.”
The peanut butter lingering in her mouth, Zoe reached over and easily stole Ryder’s coffee from his hands. She inhaled the dark headiness of it and smiled with victory, and indulged in a forbidden sip. Then one more, for good measure.
Ryder slowly stole it back, and as much as she wanted to keep it, she handed it back. He waved his phone at her, and said, “I have an app now. I am officially an expert. No coffee.”
She sat up straight and angled a look that was ripe with malice.
He quickly guarded as if she was about to attack and snorted a confused laugh. “Wow, sorry. Um. I was trying to be helpful, but—”
“You can be helpful. But don’t bethatguy.”
“You’re going to need to runthatguy by me, so I know what not to do.”
“That bossy annoying guy who follows his… DNA carrier?”
“Pass interceptor,” Evan called from the kitchen.
Zoe snorted a laugh, but pretended to ignore him. “That guy who follows his pregnant whatever around and tells her what to eat and not to eat and no don’t lift that heavy thing but here do these kegels no don’t be upset go meditate…thatguy.”
“Not a problem,” he said, nodding slowly and flitting a teasing smile that reminded her exactly why she had jumped him that night.
“I’m thirsty,” she said vaguely, and pushed up from the couch and headed into the kitchen.
Evan was already done with his miniscule shredding breakfast and poured himself a warmup.
Biting her lips together, she again forced herself to keep her mouth shut. “Where’s Jagger?” she asked as she flipped up the faucet and filled her glass.
“Caught an early flight. Apparently, some hotshot rookie has his eye on his parking spot, and the star player cannot possibly park three spots down. They might have to amend his contract to guarantee his parking spot.”
“Oh. Wow. He really lives up to that quarterback reputation, doesn’t he?”
Evan shrugged. “I’d love to fault the guy, but once he gets that parking spot dispute settled, he’s meeting with a children’s literacy program this afternoon. Who knows, if I’d gone pro, maybe I’d care passionately about my parking space.”
“Finn never did,” Zoe said, squeezing her brother’s shoulder and adding an extra pat before walking into the living room to clear her forgotten, empty plate.
Ryder already had it in hand, plus his empty coffee cup, and shook his head when she tried to take the plate. “We need to get going. I don’t want your dad to think I’m always late.”
“Then lunch with your mom? Did that work better for her, or why the switch?”
“Not lunch either…” Ryder rinsed the plate and set it in the empty dishwasher, seeming to ponder his next words. “Look, you really don’t have to come with me to tell Patricia.”
