Page 42 of Frog

I waggled my eyebrows at him and lunged. The sound that came out of the man—laugh, squeal, shriek—was a joy to hear. He ran into the great room, went left when he should have gone right, and I had him, pile driving him down onto the couch under me.

He was laughing so hard, and I straddled his thighs and grabbed his wrists, holding them immobile over his head.

“Gimme kiss.”

But he was howling with laughter, and I gave up, releasing him, watching him go fetal instead. Standing up, I was surprised to see his entire family in the kitchen staring at me. All eyes wide, mouths open, stunned expressions on their faces.

“What?”

Angie recovered first, pressing her lips together as her eyes filled.

“It’s nothing.” Carolyn smiled at me. “Just you guys.”

I had no idea what that meant, so I shoved Cy off the couch and told him to get up and eat with me.

He was still giggling when we walked back into the kitchen.

The rest of the day was spent doing nothing. The kids were bouncing off the walls because it started to rain and they couldn’t go outside, so I told them we’d play hide and seek. I asked Angie where she didn’t want us to go, and she appreciated being asked before we started.

The little kids were easy to find because when I growled, they squealed. The others were harder, with Tristan being surprisingly bendable, able to hide in weird places, and Micah being devious. I had a good time, and after lunch, I was sitting out on the covered deck watching the rain when Mr. Benning came and joined me. He brought me a beer, which was nice of him, and took a seat beside me.

“You called me Mr. Benning all morning.”

I turned and looked at him. “Yessir.”

“It’s not needed. Call me Owen.”

“Yessir.”

“Listen, I expect to see you for Christmas, Weber. Don’t leave before that, all right?”

“I’ll try Mr.… Owen.”

He nodded. “Good. We would all really like to see more of you.”

What was I supposed to say to that?

His hand lifted and reached for my shoulder, and I smiled when he squeezed it. I could tell he had something more to say.

He gave a soft cough. “So you know, I have never, ever seen my son this happy. All his life he has been serious and driven, and I could not be more proud of his achievements or more pleased with the man he’s become. All my kids—Brett, Cyrus and Carolyn—I’m very blessed; but Cyrus, he never allowed himself to have fun, to simply do something without it having a purpose.”

I just listened.

“When he told me he was gay, he sat me down and explained it like he was the parent and I was the child. I mean, I’ve never worried about him or his choices because I’ve made some foolish ones, but he never has. He never leaps without looking, he always considers every outcome, and he’s always careful and thoughtful and smart. I have never seen him do anything spur of the moment; he’s much too practical. I honestly had no idea he could laugh like he did earlier. Even when he was a kid he didn’t laugh like that, with pure joy. He was just too serious. And I love him, I do, but as far as understanding him, that’s a whole other story.”

I understood what he was saying, but the man I knew and the man he was talking about were two totally different people.

“The men I’ve met, the men he’s brought here or introduced his mother and I to, were all very logical choices. They were much like Ross, Brett’s friend who left early this morning. They had great jobs, exceptional investment portfolios—his words not mine—and when they were here, they had their laptops out on the table first thing in the morning to get some work done. And there’s nothing wrong with that. I respect dedication and drive, but not one of them made my son laugh so hard that he cried. Not one did he have to sit next to, and not one did he kiss in front of us.”

My heart was suddenly in my throat.

“I don’t know much about you, Weber, but I have to tell you, I like what I see. And I certainly don’t want my stoic son back.” He chuckled suddenly. “I like the man who laughed at my jokes yesterday and who sat and told me about some new procedure he used in the OR and the one who’s going to bring me the beer he likes next time just so I can try it. I really like the stranger in my kitchen, and I could get used to having him around. This is selfish of me to say and I know that, but please, Weber, stick around, will you?”

“I would, sir, but I’m a ranch hand, as you know.” I smiled at him. “Not a big call for that in San Francisco.”

He sighed deeply. “Tell me. Do you care for him the same way as he so obviously cares for you?”

I nodded. “That ain’t never been our problem.”