Jonas fell in step beside me.

Not Tate.

Me.

I looked down at him and I knew in a couple of years if I was still around I wouldn’t be looking down anymore.

“Are you tall for your age?” I asked.

“Yep,” he replied.

“Tallest kid in his class,” Tate put in.

“Do you play sports?” I asked Jonas.

“Yep,” he answered then he observed, “You’re tall. Did you?”

“I was a cheerleader,” I shared and both father and son laughed again. “What’s funny?” I asked into their laughter.

“Milf,” Jonas said under his breath and Tate chuckled anew.

“Cheerleading is considered a sport,” I informed them snootily.

“You flip around in a short skirt with your panties showing,” Jonas informed me back.

My eyes narrowed on his grinning face. “How old are you again?”

“Ten,” he answered.

“You act fifteen.”

“Thanks,” he replied.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” I explained and his smile got broader telling me he took it as one anyway.

We crossed the street and were a door away from La-La Land when I clarified, “Just because the subject has come up,” I looked down at Jonas, “repeatedly, a milf refers to a mother and I’m not a mother therefore I cannot be a milf.”

“You’re Dad’s girlfriend. If a dad’s girlfriend is hot, she’s always a milf,” Jonas told me.

“Is that a rule?” I asked.

“Yeah, one I just made up,” he returned.

“You can’t just make things up,” I told him.

“Sure you can,” he retorted. “Anyway, a girlfriend could turn into a stepmom and a stepmom is a kinda mom so she can also be a milf.”

Tate pushed the door open, held it for Jonas and I to precede him and he muttered as I went by, “He’s got you there, Ace.”

“Tate, we’re talking about milfs,” I shot back.

“He’s still got you,” Tate said on a grin.

“Milf? What? Where? Who?” Shambles called from under the counter, he popped up and he looked at me then Tate. “Petal! Dude!” Then he looked at Jonas and shouted, “Groovintude! Is this Little Dude?”

“Shambles, meet Tate’s son, Jonas,” I introduced.

“Hey,” Jonas greeted.

“Little Dude! Hey back, you want a smoothie?”

Of course, Shambles had smoothies.

I sighed. Tate chuckled again. I turned and glared up at him.

“Yeah, can I have –” Jonas started and Shambles lifted a hand.

“Let me rock your world,” Shambles requested.

“Cool,” Jonas smiled.

I walked to the counter. “When you’re done with Jonas’s smoothie, rock my world too.”

“Got it,” Shambles said then his eyes moved from Tate to Jonas, he leaned in to me and advised in a stage whisper, “Petal, talkin’ about milfs in front of kids…” he trailed off and shook his head.

I pointed at Jonas and exclaimed, “He brought it up!”

Shambles leaned back, his eyebrows up. “He did?”

I tipped my head back and asked the ceiling, “Can we stop talking about milfs?”

Jonas ignored me by declaring, “She is one.”

I tipped my head down to glare at Jonas.

“Big Dude is right, he’s got you there,” Shambles muttered and went to the blender.

“Where’s Sunny?” I asked in an effort to change the subject.

“Bringin’ down the sun. We had a quiet afternoon so she headed out,” Shambles answered.

“Lauren said you’re the master of Moist Factor Five Hundred,” Jonas put in.

“Little Dude! I so am!” Shambles fairly shouted and looked at me. “Did you try it?” I nodded. “Was I wrong?” I shook my head. He looked at Tate. “You?”

Tate’s arm slid along my shoulders and he tucked me into his side. “Outstanding.”

I was pretty sure he meant the frosting, or, more like the mess created by the frosting and the way we cleaned it up.

I didn’t inform Shambles of this.

“You wanna try Moist Factor Five Hundred?” Shambles offered Jonas. “I got plenty.”

Jonas didn’t even look at his father before he replied, “Nah, thanks. Lauren made me a cake and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

My heart turned over again and my eyes flew to Shambles who was mid-scoop of something he was putting in Jonas’s smoothie and his eyes were on me.

I didn’t know many children but I’d never known a child to turn down a treat, not even when their accepting might ruin something nice someone had done for them.

Shambles tore his eyes from mine and went on scooping, muttering, “Good call.”

I curled closer to Tate but my eyes moved to Jonas who was watching Shambles make his smoothie.

Then in my ear, I heard Tate ask softly, “What’d I say?”

I looked at him and nodded. “Just like you.”

His arm gave me a squeeze and his hand lifted so his finger could slide along my jaw.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered, “just like me.”

I melted deeper into Tate and Shambles broke the moment when he called, “What about you, Big Dude? Am I rockin’ your world too?”

Tate dropped his hand and looked at Shambles. “Knock yourself out.”

I felt something funny and I looked down at Jonas. When I did, his eyes darted away. I could only see his profile but, even so, I saw he was biting his lip to hide a smile.

He’d seen Tate touch me; he’d probably even heard what we said.

And he liked it.

I relaxed into Tate and bit my lip to hide my own smile.

* * * * *

I was making Rice-A-Roni when my cell rang. I went to the opposite counter, grabbed my phone, saw it said “Krys Calling”, touched the button and put it to my ear.

“Everything okay, Krys?”

“It’s Jim-Billy,” I heard. “And that’s what we wanna know about you.”

“Sorry?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Who’s we?”

“Krystal, Wendy, Dalton, Nadine, Amber, Jonelle, everybody. So?”

“Jonelle?”

“Yeah, and… so?”

“Jonas called me a milf.”

Silence. Then a loud cackle of laughter.

Then, not into the phone, I heard Jim-Billy saying through a voice suffocated with mirth, “Jonas called her a milf.”