Anything for You (Blue Heron #5)(77)

“I want to date your sister, and I need your permission.”

“No, no, nope, never. I hate you.”

“I understand that. But you’re the man of the house, aren’t you?”

Davey hesitated.

“You look after your sister. Right?”

“Yes,” he said, though he sounded unsure.

“So I need your permission.”

“Why don’t you just go die?” Davey folded his arms, seeming rather pleased at his comeback.

“That was very rude.” Connor glanced over Davey’s shoulder. “Would that girl like hearing you say something like that?”

“What girl?”

“The one who’s watching you. The pretty one.”

Davey glanced back at the girl he’d been talking to. “Miranda?”

Bingo.

“Yeah. Miranda. I bet she likes nice guys, not rude boys.” Davey scowled. “Look, Dave,” Connor continued. “Your sister loves you. She loves you way more than she loves me, I know that. And that will never change. But I want to take her to the movies and come over sometimes. And I want her to come to my house sometimes.”

“No.”

“Just the way I bet you’d like to have Miranda come over and watch movies. And be your girlfriend.”

Davey’s face flushed. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Dude, we’re all the same, us guys. She’s cute. You like her. Don’t you?”

Another scowl.

“Have you cooked for her yet? Girls like when a guy cooks for them.” As Connor well knew.

“No! I can’t cook!”

“Why?”

“Because!” Davey yelped. “I might hurt myself. Jessica doesn’t let me even use the toaster.”

That seemed extreme. The kid had a job, after all, and toasters weren’t rocket science. “Guess what? I know how to cook. I’m a chef.”

“I bet you’re a horrible chef.”

“You like the nachos at O’Rourke’s? And the chili?”

“Duh,” he answered. “They’re great.”

“I make those.” Davey blinked in surprise, and Connor almost smiled. “You want a girl to like you, you have to cook for her.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“And yet it’s true.”

Davey mulled that over. “Jessica won’t let me cook, because I might get hurt.”

Well, shit. It wasn’t as if Connor had too many aces in his pocket. If Jess put the smackdown on this idea, he’d have to fold.

“I’ll teach you to be safe,” he said. “And you know what? It can be our secret, and then you can surprise Miranda and your sister by making her a cake or nachos sometime. How would that be? When you get really good, you could cook dinner a couple times a week and not have Jess always make it for you. Be the man of the house, you know?”

He didn’t answer. Glanced back at Miranda.

“What do you say, Dave? Is it a deal?”

Still no answer. Davey might have a low IQ, but he wasn’t dumb.

“Also, I need to pick out a dog,” Connor said, throwing the Hail Mary pass. “And I was thinking you could help me find the right one.”

“Will you kill it?”

Connor rolled his eyes. “No. Now, do you want to help me or not?”

* * *

WHEN JESSICA GOT home from work that day, she really just wanted to go to bed.

Or have a glass of wine. A normal person could have a glass of wine; she couldn’t. Pity.

Chico Three would have to do as stress relief. He was up for the job, whining and wagging his whiplike tail, pushing his big head against her legs. “Hello, Chico,” she said, kneeling down to pet him. “Who’s a good dog? You? You are? I’ve heard that about you.” She kissed the dog’s head and scratched behind his ears.

He looked a lot like Chico the Original. No wonder it was hard for her brother.

At least Davey hadn’t been worse at the restaurant today. She had to give her father credit. And that, too, was a dangerous thought.

She changed out of her work clothes and went to her computer. Did a quick bank-balance check; everything was still there.

She and her father had never talked about the credit card thing, but she’d been changing her banking password and PIN number every week since he’d been back.

While she was at the computer, she typed in houses for sale, Manningsport, NY. Another relaxation device in lieu of wine—real estate fantasy.

She didn’t want a fixer-upper, though that was what she could afford at this moment. But she didn’t have the skills needed to overhaul a place, even though she loved the shows on HGTV that featured people sledgehammering through walls. And she already had two jobs, though she was only taking two shifts a week at Hugo’s. She could do some painting, some cosmetic work, but thinking about tearing down walls just made her feel tired.

Emmaline Neal had a great house that Jess had hoped would go on the market when Em married Jack Holland, but her sister had moved in—Angela, who taught at Cornell and spent weekends at the house. And it was a family house, so Jess really didn’t see it going up for sale.

Anything on the lake or with a good water view was prohibitively expensive. There were a lot of trailers for sale, but Jess wasn’t going back to one of those, even though some could be really cute. No. She wanted a real house. With a porch.