“I’m glad you could come over for some cake, Sammy,” Mom says, smiling at me with that motherly twinkle in her eye.
“Well, I had to fix your garage door, so I figured I could choke down some cake too.” I wink playfully at her because she knows I’ll always be parked at this old kitchen table on my birthday eating her homemade sheet cake with my face printed on it.
“I told you the garage door could wait,” she tuts, the corners of her mouth turning down.
I stare at her for a beat. “Mom, it’s twenty below out there. You don’t need to be parking your car outside.”
“I don’t mind!”
“Speaking of fixing stuff,” Tracey interrupts and looks straight at me. “My water softener has been really loud lately, Sammy. What do you think that means?”
“Is it still cycling salt through?” I ask, pushing my bite of cake to the corner of my mouth.
Tracey looks at me with blank eyes. “How would I know?”
“When’s the last time you put salt in the tank?”
Her lips twist into a grimace. “Matt was probably the last one to do it.”
I nod and inhale when she mentions her ex-husband who was about as handy as a toddler. “I’ll come look at it tomorrow.”
“Thank you!” she rushes out in gratitude. “Did you hear that, guys? Uncle Sammy is coming over tomorrow for Sunday Funday.”
“Yes!” Zion exclaims. “We’re going to play Madden, and I am going to destroy you…again.”
I roll my eyes. “You’d better watch it, twerp, or I’ll bring in my secret weapon.”
“Which is?” Zion stares back at me with a challenge in his eyes.
I point at my niece who smiles with a decidedly murdery smile. Zion’s face falls. “No fair…Kinsley is good at everything.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Every dog has his day, man. Don’t give up.”
The kids finish their cake and take off upstairs to where my mom has redecorated all our old childhood bedrooms into themed playrooms for the kids. Whenever we’re all here, they always play upstairs and make an epic mess. They love it.
“So Sammy, what are your birthday plans tonight?” Mom asks, slipping a forkful of white cake into her mouth.
“You’re looking at it,” I reply, lopping one more bite of cake off the cardboard tray.
Erin’s eyes narrow on me. “You’re not going out for your birthday?”
“Nah. What’s so special about thirty-one? It’s just one year closer to forty. Plus, I have some business proposals I need to finish for Uncle Terry. I want him to approve them before he takes off in six months.”
“Sammy,” my mom says in her scolding voice. “It’s your birthday. You should go do something fun. You work too hard.”
“I went ice fishing today. That was fun.” I shrug.
My sisters all look at me with sad eyes, but Tracey is the one who speaks up. “I hate how you ice fish alone all the time. And you’re alone in that log cabin you bought in the country, too. It’s depressing.”
“And a little pathetic,” Erin adds.
“You’re turning into a hermit,” Holly chimes in at the end. “Or one of those rural weirdos from Tracey’s murder podcasts.”
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “I like my acreage, and I like my cabin. People who live in town can be lonely and murdery too…it’s not the country that makes someone homicidal. And for your information, I wasn’t alone when I went ice fishing today, so get off my back!”
“You weren’t alone?” Mom asks, looking at me with fear in her eyes. “Who were you with? It wasn’t him, was it?”
“No,” I reply with an annoyed growl. “God, no. It wasn’t him…it was just a girl.”
“What girl?” Holly chirps.
“Just a chick who’s new to ice fishing and needed some help.”
“You took someone who wasn’t Dad out ice fishing?” Tracey asks, her jaw dropped.
“Yes,” I reply, my shoulders tensing at their overreaction. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“You never take anyone ice fishing,” Holly states, and I swear I can see the anger rising up to her eyeballs. “I’ve asked you to take me hundreds of times, and you always say no.”
“Well, it wasn’t a planned thing,” I argue and fork my last bite into my mouth. “It just sort of…happened…twice.”
“Twice?” my sisters all exclaim at once.
Just then the doorbell rings. In a flash, I splay my hands out on the table and push my chair back loudly. “Please, for the love of all things holy, let me get that.”
I hear my sisters gossiping behind me as I stride down the hallway to the front door. When I open it, I’m shocked to see Miles on the other side with a big, toothy smile. “Happy Birthday, dick stain.”
I squint against the setting sun behind him. “Thanks? What are you doing here, man?”
Miles punches me in the shoulder playfully. “You weren’t at your place, so I figured you were here. Come on, I’m taking you out.”
“Where’s Kate?” I ask, looking behind him at his empty truck.
“She’s saving us seats at Pearl Street Pub. We got a table.”
“Damn, I haven’t been there in forever,” I state, rubbing my jaw excitedly. Miles and I used to frequent the bar after work until I got busy with Tire Depot and he got busy with Kate.
“You’d better not even think about going there with someone else,” he retorts seriously. “I know I’ve been distracted, but Pearl Street Pub is our place, and I’ll fuck up anyone who tries to go there with you and take my place.”
I stare at Miles with a slow shake of my head. “Come on, man.”
He closes his eyes and presses his hand to his face. “I know. Goddamnit, I’m just going to give you my man card now because I’m sure that’s not going to be the last cheesy thing that comes out of my mouth tonight. Living with a romance novelist is ruining me.”
I laugh and yank Miles inside to say hello to my family while I run upstairs to give my nephews and niece a hug goodbye. After buttoning a couple more buttons on my green flannel shirt, I ask, “Am I dressed okay?”
Miles looks me up and down. “You’re wearing boots, jeans, and a flannel…that’s basically the Boulder dress code, bro. You look fine. Let’s go.”
I leave my SUV in the driveway and hop into Miles’s truck. I hold my hands up to the heat vents, still feeling a nip on my skin from fishing earlier today.
“So did you see her?” Miles asks as he maneuvers out of the neighborhood.
“See who?” I ask, eyeing him curiously.
“The ice fishing hottie.”
I huff out a laugh. “Oh, I saw her all right.”
Miles hits the steering wheel. “Yeah, you did! Did you get birthday sex already? I was prepared to wingman you tonight.”
My brow furrows. “I did not get birthday sex.”
“So what happened?”
“Nothing, technically, but goddamn, I don’t know, man. This girl makes me fucking crazy. She’s young but not necessarily immature, just like idealistic or some shit. And she’s crazy hot. I got a glimpse of her tits, and they are like two water balloons that I know would fit perfectly in my hands.”
“Nice,” Miles replies with a knowing nod. “Gotta love a good handful.”
“Right,” I reply. “She’s like no one I’ve ever hooked up with before, which I think is why I can’t seem to stay away from her. And every once in a while, she gets a spark in her eye that makes me want to…”
“What?” Miles asks, his tongue nearly hanging out of his mouth as he listens intently. “Fuck her in a tent in the woods so people in the next campsite over can hear you and give you a mental high five?”
I eye him curiously. “I was thinking more like throw her up against a wall, but sure, your tent idea sounds pretty nice too.”
“Damn right, it does.” He fist-bumps me.