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“Kids can be cruel.”

I hummed in agreement. “She went through a strong cape-wearing phase that ended abruptly her first day of school last year. Gretch won’t discuss it, but her mom thinks she might have been teased, and she didn’t want to tell me in case I got all ‘cop’ on someone’s ass.”

“And would you? Get all ‘cop’ on someone’s ass?”

“I’d like to think I’d use some finesse to teach a constructive lesson. However, I’m aware that my lesson—no matter how well deserved—might mortify my daughter. I’m learning to pick my battles. I try to be vigilant, yet allow them to start making their own calls. I have to admit, this stage of parenting has been the most challenging yet.”

“How so?”

“Problems with babies and little kids are more obvious and easier to solve. A cranky baby is hungry, tired, needs to be changed. A cranky child can communicate with words, but even if they don’t verbalize the issue, it’s not usually hard to figure out what’s bothering them. A sibling hid their toy and they’re mad, or they didn’t get invited to a party and they’re sad. You had your nephew for a month. You know what I’m talking about.”

Waylon nodded. “I think I do.”

I plated our chicken and grilled veggies and set them on the table next to the salad. “With teenagers and preteens, everything you think you know flies out the window. You remember your own adolescence and worry your kid will repeat your mistakes, or you remember how your mom and dad parented you and fear that you’ll repeat their mistakes. I can’t win.”

“Thus…the pool,” he joked.

“Yup. Maybe it’s a form of bribery, but I’m out of fucks. Have some onions. They’re sweet, and they go well with the marinade.”

Waylon flicked an amused glance my way as he piled veggies onto his plate. “I’ve seen you with them in town.”

“Have you been spying on me?” I teased.

“Not actively, but it’s hard to miss the chief and his mini-mes. You seem to have a great relationship with them.”

I smiled as I reached for the salad tongs. “I like to think so.”

“That’s great. Single parenting isn’t easy.” Waylon speared a bite of chicken. “I had a taste of it with Emmett. Usually, I get to be the fun uncle over a weekend here and there. A whole month was a different ball game. It was fun, but man…it was stressful, too. Making nutritious meals, making sure he was safe and knew what to do if he felt threatened. Oh, and answering a million and one questions at breakfast. Like where do tadpoles come from and how many tomatoes would fit inside the sun and since it’s superhot, would it turn into pizza sauce?”

I guffawed. “Points for originality.”

“I have a newfound appreciation for how much work goes into caring for another human. Christ, you’re a dad, a boss, and you’re looking out for your parents. That’s a lot to juggle.”

“Yeah, well, don’t be impressed. I’m not juggling well these days.” I bit into an ear of corn with faux nonchalance, adding, “This is probably as good a time as any to apologize for stalking you at Mill Depot earlier today. I’m not handling this situation with my father as well as I should be. And I admit…I really like you. I haven’t been this attracted to someone in a long time, and maybe I’m shamelessly reaching for a way to spend time with you. I’m reacting instead of thinking rationally. It’s the best excuse I have for subjecting you to my family’s private…whatever it is we’re going through. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Waylon furrowed his brow, set his fork on his plate, and wiped the corner of his mouth. “Shut up, Chief. You need help, I’ll help you. Don’t make it weird.”

“I was trying to make it less weird, but⁠—”

“You failed.” Waylon narrowed his eyes like a boss. “Hey, I’m here ’cause I wanted to see you, too. We don’t have to overthink it.”

“Uh…okay, but⁠—”

“If we’re selling Viggo’s DIY birdhouse kits at Mill Depot, we should test them out—make sure they come with all the parts included and that it’s simple enough for all age groups to assemble.” Waylon casually sneaked a piece of chicken to Tate. “When I saw your dad the other day, I thought he was bird-watching. Maybe you could tie that in, and tell him that’s why I’m there so it makes sense. I don’t know…it’s just an idea.”

“That’s a good one.”

“Cool. I’ve only met your dad once, so you and maybe your kids should join us. I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable. And if at any point, he does, we scrap it and you go home with your birdhouse shit.”

“Birdhouse shit, eh? Well…thank you for offering. It’s very nice of you.”

Waylon shrugged off the compliment. “You asked, and I get the impression you’re not the type to ask for anything unless it matters.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, unnerved by the uncanny observation.

“If nothing else, it’ll give me an excuse to see you again.”

I didn’t miss the salacious glint in his eye. Unsurprisingly, my dick twitched…which was probably my cue to set realistic expectations.