At the same time I heard Rhonda gasp and Kirby and Finley chuckle.

Mike just said in a warning low, “No.”

He was using that word in two ways and No’s playful gaze went unrepentantly to his Dad then to me.

I winked at him.

His easy, lazy grin turned into a bright, easy, lazy smile.

Yeah, the high school girls creamed their pants for this kid. Totally.

“Right, that’s No and this is my daughter, Clarisse,” Mike carried on.

I stopped looking at No and turned my gaze to Clarisse.

“Hey, honey,” I said softly and put my hand out.

She looked at it then at me, took my hand and murmured, “Hey.”

I squeezed her hand and said right out, “I’m into your Dad so you gotta know I want you to like me but I’m not blowing sunshine when I say you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Mike’s arm got tight around my waist. Clarisse’s hand spasmed in mine as her cheeks again got pink, her eyes got round and not in a pissed off way and her perfect, full lips parted endearingly.

Finally, she visibly and audibly forced out an, “Uh…thanks.”

“Just saying it like it is,” I told her.

Her chin dipped slightly and she looked at me under her lashes, watchful but bashful and it was then I figured, even at fourteen, nearly fifteen, that girl made the high school boys cream their jeans.

If Clarisse didn’t fly right off the rails and become a goth or get a fake ID and a tramp stamp, Mike was just about to enter approximately five years of his life that would include a world of hurt. And this hurt didn’t mean wondering where he went wrong but lamenting that he went very right including the fact he passed on excellent genes.

I dropped her hand and Mike shifted us.

Then he spoke but not to me or his kids, to Rhonda.

“Brought the kids in so they didn’t have to sit out in the cold while we had a chat. Dusty and I need to talk to you and the boys about something quickly before we go.”

I’d forgotten about this. That was how freaked out I was about meeting Mike’s kids. But when he’d phoned me to tell me where we were going for dinner, he’d also told me when he showed he wanted a minute to talk not only to Rhonda but to Fin and Kirb about Debbie.

Weirdly, I did not think of this as Mike horning in on family business. It could be because he’d been around so long, in our lives, Darrin talking about him, Debbie dating him, him meaning what he meant to me, that he kind of felt like he already was family. It could be that after Fin told me what was going down with my bitchface sister and Rhonda not snapping out of it, for the first time in a long time I felt overwhelmed. And Mike not just taking my back but ready, willing and able to wade in to help me shoulder the burden took some of that weight off me. Better, he wasn’t going to delay and I knew this the instant he slid my phone from my fingers last night when bitchface Debbie had the audacity to call me. And then, he didn’t even know what was going on.

“Can we talk in the living room?” Mike asked and I looked to Rhonda to see she looked confused. I looked to Kirby to see he was looking at his brother. And then I looked to Finley to see, not surprisingly, he had his eyes glued to Clarisse.

That was when I looked to my boots and grinned.

“Of course,” Rhonda said softly then moved toward the living room.

Finley shifted, following his Mom. Kirby moved after them. With his free arm, Mike swept it around as an indication to his kids to precede us.

Finally, Mike moved us that way and I looked up at him. The farmhouse was not small, the rooms big and stuffed with years of family accumulated, well…stuff. But still, I didn’t want anyone overhearing anything I had to say. Like payback for Mike helping me take care of my family was going to take a variety of forms he would enjoy.

So I communicated this with my face.

Mike didn’t miss it, his eyes dropped to my mouth, his arm tensed around me and the tip of his tongue came out to wet his full, lower lip.

It was hot.

“Little Dusty” spasmed.

We hit the room and I pulled my shit together. Rhonda was seated on the couch. Kirby was sitting next to her. Finley standing by the arm, strong, tall, keeping his feet, the new man of the family. No and Clarisse were huddled to the side, probably uncomfortable, not knowing what was going on and never having been to the house, not sure of what to do or how to behave.

Mike didn’t delay.

Eyes on Fin, he asked, “Do you still have your mother and brother’s phones?”

“Yes, sir,” Fin answered immediately.

“You talk to them about why?” Mike went on.

Fin nodded.

“Good man,” Mike muttered and looked at Rhonda. “Dusty has shared with me that Debbie’s been in frequent touch to discuss her plans for the future of the farm. She’s also shared with me that Fin has expressed his desire to carry on the family tradition. I know things are very raw right now and, for you, it isn’t the time to be making decisions about your sons’ futures, decisions you can’t unmake. So I’ve asked Debbie not to call you for two weeks.”

Relief washed through Rhonda’s face and I was glad to see it. Contradictorily, I was also pissed because the relief was so keen I knew Debbie had been crawling right up her ass. I knew this already but her expression told me just how bad it was.

But for some reason my eyes went to Fin and he was grinning toward No and Clarisse. My gaze shifted to Mike’s kids and I caught Clarisse’s return smile before her eyes dropped to her shoes.

I looked back to Fin to see he was now looking down at the arm of the couch.

But his grin had not been the grin of a hot boy junior toward a beautiful freshman he thought was a beautiful freshman. It was intimate, knowing and triumphant.

Hers was the same.

Oh my God, something was going on between Mike’s daughter and my nephew.

Mike popped my sister’s cherry. Decades later, we hooked up. And now it seemed like Holliday/Haines history was setting up to repeat itself.

Oh boy, I didn’t know what Mike was going to think about this mainly because he was the one who had the penis in the last teenage scenario and he knew what he did with it.

Before I could think further on whether this was awesome or a complete catastrophe, Mike kept talking.

“Debbie is likely not going to do what I’ve asked, so –”

“She already hasn’t,” Finley cut in and I looked to him to see his eyes on Mike. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Haines, but you should know she called Ma three times last night, four today and left five voicemail messages.”