Breakfast with Dale

"This is the one!" Uncle Carlisle yelled as he slapped me on the back.

"Fuck, that hurt," I grumbled as I stepped away from him and Carlisle's partner in crime looked on laughing.

Marcus squeezed my shoulder and moved closer to get a better look at the monstrous pumpkin sprawled before us. "Are you sure, Carl?"

Carlisle shot him a devilish grin, "This sonofabitch is nine hundred and forty-eight pounds. You're not gonna find better this year."

I ran my hands over the massive gourd with its bulk resting on one side and thought how ugly it was. "We should name it Jabba the Hutt."

Marcus threw back his head of wavy gray hair and barked out a laugh, "That'll work, boy."

Carlisle pulled his silver-blonde hair into a man-bun before giving his friend a fist bump. "Let's go tell the Blacks we'll take this one, and then I need a stack."

Marcus rubbed his hands together. "Evanson's—oh, you're in for a treat, my boy!" he said and pushed me toward the barn door.

~o0o~

At Evanson's diner, I settled in the booth next to Marcus. My uncle's girlfriend served us coffee with hugs and kisses before Carlisle pulled her onto his lap. He moved her thick mane of silver touched golden waves to the side to kiss her neck.

"How's my beautiful girl this morning?" Carlisle asked.

Esme leaned in and kissed his cheek just above his beard. "Hectic. We're trying to stock up and get ready for the festival." She looked across the table at me. "Will this be your first festival, Edward?"

I couldn't help but smile at the pretty flower-child that made my uncle so happy. "Yes, ma'am, heard about it for years, though." She smiled back. A bell rang at the food service counter, and Esme slipped from Carlisle's arms and hurried off.

Marcus flipped the syrup lid to the tune of Ted Nugent's Cat Scratch Fever and said, "Put the menu down, boy. Pancakes—stacks and stacks of pancakes, that's all you want."

I sat the menu down to pour sugar into my coffee and froze as slender arms slithered over Carlisle's shoulders, and a sweet, heart-shaped face appeared just before she pressed her lips to Carlisle's cheek.

"How are you this morning, Rooster?" the beauty said.

Carlisle grabbed the hands before they could retreat and brought them to his lips. "Better after some of your sugar," he growled.

The sugar canister slipped from my hand with a thud, and Carlisle laughed. I felt heat creeping up my neck as Carlisle drew the girl to stand next to him with his tattooed sleeved arm resting around her tiny, aproned waist.

"Bella, let me introduce my nephew, Edward Cullen. He's the new science teacher over at the high school. Edward, this is Esme's niece, Bella Swan. Isn't she a pretty little thing?"

I could have shot Carlisle for putting me on the spot, and by the twinkle in his eye, he knew it. "Uh—yeah—um—hi Bella, nice to meet you."

"Likewise, you takin' over for Lauren Mallory?"

"Yes, she's not coming back after her maternity leave. So, here I am."

She nodded before bumping Carlisle's shoulder with her rounded hip. "It's obvious pretty grows on your family tree, Carlisle," she said with a wink as she walked away from the table.

I was still trying not to choke on my tongue when Marcus shouted, "Hey, what about me?"

"Morning, Marcus, don't play with the syrups," Bella shouted as she rounded the counter.

Marcus licked his sticky fingers and said, "So, the Blacks will deliver the beast Monday, yeah?"

I took a sip of my over-sugared coffee and grimaced. Carlisle nodded and took a sip of his. "I told them to keep it on the down-low. Damn if we'll let the Newtons edge us out again."

I slid my mug away. "Haven't they won the grand event for the past four years?"

"Stolen would be a more appropriate word, I'd think, boy," Marcus said as he poured syrup into his coffee.

I glanced around the table. "My bad. Uh—damn those Newtons."

Carlisle grinned and leaned back as Bella returned with a tray of pancakes, eggs, and Canadian bacon.

"I see you boys scheming over here. Did you get the winning pumpkin?" she said as she placed a plate in front of Carlisle. "You plannin' on takin' the grand prize this year?"

She smacked Marcus's hand as he grabbed for his plate.

"This year's our year, Bella," Marcus said as he waited for her to place the pile of food in front of him.

Carlisle showed her a picture of the massive pumpkin, and I leaned toward her. "We thought of naming it Jabba the Hutt."

She cocked her head as she studied the picture one more time. "No, I think Dale the Whale."

I barked a laugh. "You know Dale Biederbeck."

She smiled brightly, and my breath hitched as she placed my plate in front of me and said, "I love Monk."

"Me too, I said with a nod. "Dale it is," I added as I spread my paper napkin on my lap.

Bella turned back to Carlisle. "I think the Newton boys may have something to say about you winning."

Carlisle smacked the table. "We're talkin' boys. This is a man's game, girl."

She gave a little snort as she leaned toward me and picked up my forgotten mug from the center of the table before placing a steaming new cup next to my plate. She righted herself, and I let out the breath I had been holding.

Resting her hand on Carlisle's shoulder, she said, "You can talk the talk, Rooster, but we'll see if you can walk the walk." Before she left, she reached past me once again to remove the sugar canister from the table and patted my shoulder. I couldn't help but admire her retreat with profound appreciation until Marcus' belch brought my attention back to the mound of food before me.

Avoiding Carlisle's hawk-like stare, I took a sip of my coffee and found it sweetened and hot and smiled toward the counter. Bella grinned back before dipping her hair forward, making a silky, chestnut curtain as she continued wiping the counter.

When the kitchen slowed down, Esme returned to perch on Carlisle's lap. He toggled his knee back and forth, keeping Esme swaying as he fed her the last of his pancakes with tender, sticky kisses. I watched them as I sipped my just-right coffee, and Marcus rambled on about Garden and Gun Magazine.

"Why have you never married?" The question was out of my mouth before I had finished the thought, and my neck reddened as Carlisle's knee stilled and his eyes hardened.

Esme laughed and said, "I like the romance of being Carlisle's girl. After all these years, I would be as absolute bore as a wife."

Marcus tossed a creamer pod at Carlisle, and I grimaced an apology toward my uncle as his jaw twitched, but his knee began to sway again.