"You forgot the cupcakes."
"Yeah, that's right. We'll eat Princess Katie's discarded cupcakes."
She laughs again. "Okay. I'm down with that."
I nudge her leg. "Go change. You're late."
She huffs. "You said I wasn't."
"I lied. Hurry up. I want you back here in ten minutes." I stand up and offer my hands to help her up. "Oh, and remind me at dinner to tell you about my brothers. They'll be here in the morning to fix your walkway."
"Your brothers are helping?"
"I can't do it all myself. It would take forever. And I needed Jake to bring down the equipment."
"Are you paying them for this?"
"Hell no. I'm their big brother. They do what I tell them to do."
"But they're wasting their whole weekend to help me. I have to pay them."
I walk her to the door. "You weren't going to pay me, so why them?"
"Because you shot at me. The sidewalk was your payment for nearly killing me."
"You're not paying them." I hold the door open for her. "I'll buy them food and beer. They'll be plenty happy with that. Now hurry up."
She goes back to her house, then returns eight minutes later with a tray of cupcakes and a big glass of milk. I devour six cupcakes and all the milk, which seems to make her happy. I think she likes feeding me, which is a complete contrast from Marissa, who never made me anything. She wouldn't even pour me a bowl of cereal. She said it was sexist to cook for a man, although she had no problem with me cooking for her.
Hours later, Callie and I are sitting out on my deck after polishing off two racks of ribs, most of which were eaten by me. I've noticed Callie doesn't eat much.
"So what do I need to know about your brothers?" she asks as we're wiping our hands with the wet wipes. They came with the ribs, which were awesome but messy.
I reach over and turn down the radio. "Jake's a couple years younger than me. He sleeps around, so if he tries to flirt with you, just slap him. He's used to it. That goes for Bryce and Austin too. I've already told them to leave you alone but there's a good chance they'll still hit on you."
She leans back and puts her feet up on the chair between us. "Why'd you tell them to leave me alone?"
"Because if anyone's going to flirt with you, it'll be me, not my brothers."
She smiles at that. "What else do I need to know about the Wheeler boys?"
I move over to the chair where she has her feet, placing them across my lap as I turn to face her. "Bryce is 22 and thinks he's a badass but he's really not."
"What do you mean by 'badass'?"
"He only wears black. Has a shitload of tattoos."
"So he's just pretending to be a badass?"
"Yeah. I mean, I guess I don't really know the definition of badass. He doesn't get in trouble with the law or anything. He just likes being the tough guy. I think he's does the badass thing to scare off anyone who might try to date Jen."
"Who's Jen?"
"His best friend. He's in love with her, but he refuses to date her because he thinks it'll ruin their friendship. But he can't stand seeing her date other guys so he tries to scare them away. Bryce is big like me. Add in the tattoos, and he can be a little intimidating, especially to the guys Jen dates, which are usually college guys who are a lot smaller than Bryce."
"What about your other brother?"
"Austin is 20 and a fitness fanatic and health food nut. He's always trying to get us to change our diet. Drink protein shakes. All shit my other brothers and I would never do. Austin's also the sensitive one. He plays the guitar. Writes songs. Plays in a band. He gets a lot of girls that way. Girls seem to like guys who play the guitar."
"It's not just the guitar. It's being in a band. Girls like guys who are in a band."
"And by 'girls' are you including yourself in that?"
She smiles. "I might've dated a few guys who were in bands."
"So is that your type? Guys in bands?" I take a swig of my beer.
"I don't have a type. Do you?"
"I tend to like girls who are good at math, know how to make spaghetti sauce, and sing along to country songs when no one's watching."
She laughs. "Well, that's definitely not me."
"You sure about that?"
She crosses her arms. "I have never once sang along to a country song. I don't even know the words."
"You were singing in my living room just yesterday."
"I was not," she says adamantly. "You must've been hearing things."
"I'll record you next time." I finish my beer.
"You're such a liar. I was not singing." She goes to pull her feet back but I hold onto them.
"I owe you a foot rub."
"That's okay. Maybe some other time."
"You were on your feet all day. You sure you don't want one?" I run my thumb up the center of her foot.
She closes her eyes. "Oh, God, that feels good."
"So that's a yes?"
"Yes." She reclines back in the chair, dropping her head back and keeping her eyes closed as I continue to rub. "Seriously, where did you learn how to do this?"
"I went to massage school for like a week, and we spent that week learning how to do foot massages."