as dry with all these hot ones, but still . . . It’s an interesting possibility. Complicated, but interesting.”
“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” Clare protested.
“I think he’s a complicated man to begin with, and our situation is complicated. I work for his mother.”
“So?” Avery demanded.
“The so is what I need to work out and resolve. I thought the two of you could tell me a little more about him, just give me a clearer picture.”
“We can, but can we do that while we eat dinner?” Clare rubbed her swollen belly. “I could eat a side of beef.”
“How about a field green salad, lasagna, garlic bread?”
“And cherry pie,” Hope added to Avery’s rundown.
“I say bring it on.” Clare levered herself up. “All of it.”
CHAPTER SIX
M AN NIGHT. RYDER HADN’T INTENDED TO GET ROPED into spending the evening with kids and dogs. It just sort of happened.
Plus, Beckett sprang for the manly meal of spaghetti and meatballs, apparently a Man Night tradition.
Anyway, the kids were appealing, and along with Yoda and Ben, their young Lab mixes, generated enough energy to power the whole damn county.
Dumbass was in dog heaven.
Ryder didn’t know what rules applied when the lady of the house was in residence, but Man Night equaled a free-for-all. The kids ran around like demons, ate like wolves, fought like mortal enemies, and laughed like loons.
It reminded him of his own childhood.
The house was made for kids and dogs, he mused. Big, sprawling, open, colorful. He knew Beckett had added on to the plans for the then-unfinished house once he and Clare got together, and had redesigned it with their family at the center. Now the kids had a big boy-style playroom with built-in shelves and cabinets for kid debris. He knew because he’d helped build it, and because Murphy dragged him up to see it.
Then proceeded to haul down every action figure known to man.
Ryder had a collection of his own boxed away. Some things were sacred to a man.
“Yoda ate Green Goblin.”
“Kid, they’re not even in the same universe.”
“Not the
real
Yoda. Our Yoda. He chewed him up, but he was just a puppy. He doesn’t eat action figures anymore. And Santa brought me a new Green Goblin for Christmas. He left it in my stocking. And he brought me Gambit.”
“You’ve got Gambit?”
“Uh-huh.” Delighted with the interest, Murphy dug into the colorful bodies, pulled it out. “Sometimes he and Wolverine fight, but mostly they fight the bad guys together.”
Ryder had always had a soft spot for Gambit.
“We should have a war now. See, we can use the Bat Cave and the Millennium Falcon for bases, and the Green Goblin and Magneto and the Joker, and like that they are planning the attack in the garage. See, you can put cars in it, but bad guys, too.”
What the hell, Ryder decided, and helped the kid set it up.
The war proved vicious, bloody, and, like all wars, involved cowardice, heroism, and numerous casualties. Collateral damage included a one-legged T-Rex, three Storm Troopers, and a ratty teddy bear.
“Teddy took it in the gut!” Murphy shouted.
“War’s hell, kid.”
“War’s hell,” Murphy repeated since it was Man Night, and giggled insanely.
Owen walked in as the allied Avengers, X-Men, and Power Rangers blew up the enemy base.
“We defeated them.” Murphy leaped up to do his victory dance and exchange high fives with Ryder. “But Iron Man’s wounded bad. He’s in the hospital.”
“He’s Iron Man,” Owen said. “He’ll pull through. You’ve got to take Harry on in Wii Boxing,” he told Ryder. “He beat the crap out of me.”
“Let Beckett fight him.”
“He beat the crap out of Beckett, too. And Liam. You’re our last hope.”
“Fine. You’ve got to help the runt clean this up.”
“I wasn’t in the war,” Owen protested. “I was Sweden.”
Ryder considered. The room resembled a battlefield—that had been hit by a tornado. Bribery worked.
“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” Clare protested.
“I think he’s a complicated man to begin with, and our situation is complicated. I work for his mother.”
“So?” Avery demanded.
“The so is what I need to work out and resolve. I thought the two of you could tell me a little more about him, just give me a clearer picture.”
“We can, but can we do that while we eat dinner?” Clare rubbed her swollen belly. “I could eat a side of beef.”
“How about a field green salad, lasagna, garlic bread?”
“And cherry pie,” Hope added to Avery’s rundown.
“I say bring it on.” Clare levered herself up. “All of it.”
CHAPTER SIX
M AN NIGHT. RYDER HADN’T INTENDED TO GET ROPED into spending the evening with kids and dogs. It just sort of happened.
Plus, Beckett sprang for the manly meal of spaghetti and meatballs, apparently a Man Night tradition.
Anyway, the kids were appealing, and along with Yoda and Ben, their young Lab mixes, generated enough energy to power the whole damn county.
Dumbass was in dog heaven.
Ryder didn’t know what rules applied when the lady of the house was in residence, but Man Night equaled a free-for-all. The kids ran around like demons, ate like wolves, fought like mortal enemies, and laughed like loons.
It reminded him of his own childhood.
The house was made for kids and dogs, he mused. Big, sprawling, open, colorful. He knew Beckett had added on to the plans for the then-unfinished house once he and Clare got together, and had redesigned it with their family at the center. Now the kids had a big boy-style playroom with built-in shelves and cabinets for kid debris. He knew because he’d helped build it, and because Murphy dragged him up to see it.
Then proceeded to haul down every action figure known to man.
Ryder had a collection of his own boxed away. Some things were sacred to a man.
“Yoda ate Green Goblin.”
“Kid, they’re not even in the same universe.”
“Not the
real
Yoda. Our Yoda. He chewed him up, but he was just a puppy. He doesn’t eat action figures anymore. And Santa brought me a new Green Goblin for Christmas. He left it in my stocking. And he brought me Gambit.”
“You’ve got Gambit?”
“Uh-huh.” Delighted with the interest, Murphy dug into the colorful bodies, pulled it out. “Sometimes he and Wolverine fight, but mostly they fight the bad guys together.”
Ryder had always had a soft spot for Gambit.
“We should have a war now. See, we can use the Bat Cave and the Millennium Falcon for bases, and the Green Goblin and Magneto and the Joker, and like that they are planning the attack in the garage. See, you can put cars in it, but bad guys, too.”
What the hell, Ryder decided, and helped the kid set it up.
The war proved vicious, bloody, and, like all wars, involved cowardice, heroism, and numerous casualties. Collateral damage included a one-legged T-Rex, three Storm Troopers, and a ratty teddy bear.
“Teddy took it in the gut!” Murphy shouted.
“War’s hell, kid.”
“War’s hell,” Murphy repeated since it was Man Night, and giggled insanely.
Owen walked in as the allied Avengers, X-Men, and Power Rangers blew up the enemy base.
“We defeated them.” Murphy leaped up to do his victory dance and exchange high fives with Ryder. “But Iron Man’s wounded bad. He’s in the hospital.”
“He’s Iron Man,” Owen said. “He’ll pull through. You’ve got to take Harry on in Wii Boxing,” he told Ryder. “He beat the crap out of me.”
“Let Beckett fight him.”
“He beat the crap out of Beckett, too. And Liam. You’re our last hope.”
“Fine. You’ve got to help the runt clean this up.”
“I wasn’t in the war,” Owen protested. “I was Sweden.”
Ryder considered. The room resembled a battlefield—that had been hit by a tornado. Bribery worked.
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