Page 44 of Dark

Like we didn’t all know how that song and dance went down. Dallas started shit. And I finished it.

The screen door creaked open. Hayden and a frowning Ellie came out carrying crockery dishes of potato salad and beans. August and West brought up the rear with sweet tea I could smell had a cup of sugar for every quart of Luzianne, pickles, onions, a brown paper sack of bread, plus two Texas pecan pies.

Taking a pull from a flask, Dallas leaned in and whispered something to Lacey. She spewed beer all over the flagstones and one hapless golden retriever who didn’t manage to scuttle out of the way in time.

“Watch the dog!” barked Brody. “Major, c’mere.”

But Ellie was already swooping in, kneeling down to mop off the golden’s coat with paper towels while the Furnado in question waved his tail inches from a pan of banana pudding and tried to get to second base with her coat pocket.

“See. You would have loved playing with Violet.” Producing a cookie, Ellie cooed and fluffed his ears.

“Violet?” Brody crossed his arms, grumbling something about calories under his breath.

“Their new dog. Ethan brought her to the clinic last night.”

My brother whirled. “You gotta be kidding me—"

Over at the grill, Dallas dropped a metal tray, wiping his hands on an old Cowboys apron that had so many burns it was practically unrecognizable. “Can we freaking eat already?”

Smirking, Lacey flicked a strand of hair behind his ear. “That chicken getting a little dry?”

With a flip of the tongs, Dallas loaded her plate up with a half-rack of pork ribs slathered in sauce, brisket so tender it was practically falling apart, and the stupid chicken they fought about every week.

“People drive for two hours to taste the way I burn a chicken, sweetheart.”

Shrugging, she popped a bite of breast meat into her mouth. “Just saying. I hear they sell thermometers now that can—”

“One more word, and I’m gonna come across the street and school your butt in how to bake a pie.” He swatted her with a dish towel and she danced out of the way.

“Better watch it,” Cal called from the end of the line where the others were digging into the sides. “He’ll feed your ribs to the dog.”

Major’s ears perked up, tail flagging hopefully.

Brody gave me a hard look on his way by that said this conversation was anything but over.

Dallas took Ellie’s plate, serving up a tofu burger I hadn’t noticed sitting on a side platter. “Didn’t bust my tail in culinary school to cook for dogs.” West coughed loudly, and he rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Lagging at the end of the line, August slipped on his Aviators despite the fact that the sky was overcast.

I wheeled on Brody, who was crooning under his breath as he dished up fried okra, something about goddamn Chesney learning to dance and painting his damn house. “Can you turn that crap down?”

Dousing his entire plate in a ladle of barbeque sauce, Brody topped things off with half a loaf of sliced bread. “The gas station sell out of Midol again?”

Lacey snorted into her sweet tea.

“Hey.” Cal jerked his chin at Brody, who, with a glance over at August, pulled out his phone. A second later, the music cut off to a collective sigh of relief.

“I’m fine, y’all,” August said dryly. “Don’t need five mother hens.”

Snagging a water bottle, Cal tossed it his way. Hayden met my eye, brow furrowed. I shook my head. We couldn’t discuss this, not with Ellie here.

Dallas fumbled the tongs. “No worries, bro. Got your plate coming up.”

“Sweet. Just chicken.”

Which he might have remembered if he hadn’t been drinking. Dallas had hundreds of recipes memorized. Hell, he ran a restaurant he started from a freaking food trailer, one that had just been featured in Texas Monthly, but ask him to remember the restricted diet August had to follow, and suddenly he had his head up his ass.

“Chill the hell out,” Lacey muttered.