"Another strawberry, love?" Remington asked, offering her the skewer. Laura's mouth watered at the sight but with great resolve shook her head in the negative.
"I shouldn't." He shrugged a careless shoulder and flashed her a quick smile.
"You know best." With a glower, she yanked the skewer out of his hand.
"Oh, give me that!" she groused, while twirling the strawberry in dark chocolate. "It's not nice to use a woman's addiction against her, Mr. Steele."
"But you have so few weaknesses, I have to exploit the few you do." From where he was stretched out his side, with his head propped in his hand, much like his father, Holt laughed.
"You better hope Mom doesn't exploit all your weaknesses," he quipped.
"All my weaknesses?" Remington asked, pretending to be insulted by the comment. "Need I remind you fathers and sons are supposed to stick together, especially when they are outnumbered by the women around them?"
Holt sat up abruptly, catching the eyes of Sophie and Livvie who'd been chattering between themselves about who had a crush on whom and happenings at school. They turned their full attention to their parents and Holt. Livvie took in the mischievous glimmer in Laura's eyes, the sense of accomplishment on Holt's face and Remington's growing panic and put all the pieces together.
"What did you do this time, Da?" she inquired, as he nervously worked a nail with his teeth.
"Do you mean that, Da? That we should always stick together?"
"Yes," Remington told Holt firmly, forgetting so quickly that he was being set up, more concerned with defending himself to his first-born. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all—" His eyes shifted to his wife, then wished he hadn't. Whatever she'd been brewing all evening was about to be served, he was sure of it.
"Chocolate," Holt deadpanned, sharing a look with his sisters. Remington's jaw slackened, as he let the wheels of the bus Holt had thrown him under go thump-thump over his back.
"Laura Steele's Rule number 523," Olivia offered, "We should not manipulate others for our own gain."
"Rule 722, one should not gang up on another when that person is outnumbered by four," Remington shot back with an attempt at a smile. His conniving wife smirked at him.
"Don't the two of you think you're getting a little carried away with this list of rules thing?" Remington and Olivia turned their attention to Laura.
"Da, there's a father-son thing next spring. Are you in?"
"Yes," he told his son, then addressed Laura, "So, we are permitted to gang up on others?"
"It's okay to manipulate others for personal gain?" Livvie jumped in.
"Do you promise Da?" Holt pursued.
"Yes," he vowed, not paying a bit of attention, too busy worrying about his own hide.
He heard Sophie titter. His head snapped to her, finding her shaking her head.
"Oh, Da," she said with disappointment. Alarm bells peeled in his head. Alarm bells that morphed into screeching sirens when he saw Laura and Holt exchange high-fives out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and gazed upon his son with narrowed eyes.
"Mo mhoc, what is it, exactly, that I've agreed to?"
"The father-son biathlon next spring," he shrugged. His father's stomach sank to his toes.
"The… the…" Remington stuttered, then focused on his laughing wife. "It would seem your rule on manipulation doesn't apply to yourself," he accused. Laura smiled cheekily and shrugged a pair of unconcerned shoulders.
"It's your own fault," she accused, breezily.
"My fault?! My fault?!" he sputtered.
"Carelessly agreeing to something when you had no idea what that might be? One could go so far as to say it is reminiscent of when you nearly lost the Agency." A trio of wide eyes and dropped jaws fell on him. He squirmed uncomfortably, while casting Laura a look that declared her a traitor.
"You almost lost the Agency, Da?" Olivia asked, horrified.
"He did?" This from Sophie directed to Laura.
"What happened?" This from Holt.
"How did they forge your signature on the promissory note so it fooled the expert?"
"It was my signature."
"Reuben was always in here with documents for Mr. Steele to sign. We figure one of those times he just slipped in the note."
"Who reads those things anyway."
"An unscrupulous and unconsciousable weasel of an attorney slipped some papers into a stack I was signing and as it would turn out, one of those papers was a promissory note for the Agency," Remington supplied, finishing on a sigh.
"I'm surprised Mom let's you do any paperwork after that," Holt commented, cheekily. Equals they might be at home and the Agency, but even the kids knew when Laura put her foot down, everyone listened.
"One might think, eh?" he looked to his wife to finish.
"I doubled his paperwork load," she grinned.
All three of their offspring joined together in laughter.
Of course, she had.
"Now, about this biathlon…" Remington began, already formulating a way to get out of it, "While your mother may have forgotten the rule around here, I have not. I think a perfectly suitable option is we purchase a new horse—"
"No," Laura cut in firmly, succinctly. He glanced at her but forged on.
"And have you join me on the polo—"
"It's not happening, Remington." Her imperiousness pricked, earning her a glare. "If Holt wants to play polo, we'll buy him a suitable, appropriate mount, and he can start out in the junior division where an eleven-year-old belongs." Her husband fell into a pout, having seen a potential way around her setting him down each time he brought up by himself a new mount of championship bloodline, like Ciarda.
"Can I?" Holt asked, jumping on his mother's suggestion.
"Of course," she agreed. "In fact," she drew out the words, making Remington cringe as he felt another zinger headed his way, "Since Da will need to take you shopping next weekend for the gear you'll need for the biathlon, he can reach out to some of his contacts, identify suitable mounts for you then on Sunday, you and Da can pick out the horse that feels best to you.
"But Laura," said father started out in a whine, "We've a match next Sunday, a match, I might point out, Monroe and I have a healthy wager on."
"Then I'd suggest you get up early so you can accomplish both," she returned, airily, immediately invoking more laughter from their children. Just like that he watched his only morning to sleep in get pitched overboard.
"You walked right into that one, Da," Livvie noted.
"Again," Sophie accurately accessed.
And, in his quest to get out of the biathlon while gaining a new mount, he had.
"I think," Holt stepped back into the fray, "We should bet Mom and Soph a month's worth of chores that we can beat them in—" His words came to an abrupt stop when he found a desperate hand clamped lightly over his mouth.
"No, son, no," Remington begged. "While it's admirable you believe we could win such a wager, not a one of us stands a chance against your mother." It was a fact. Not only was Laura in prime condition from regular triathlons, but her competitive nature would leave them both in the dust.
"I could," Livvie said with confidence. She might not like to run… or bike… but she loved a good challenge. Seeing the sudden glean in Laura's eyes, Remington's hand dropped from his son's mouth as those sirens became deafening.
"No, no," he insisted. "Not at all necessary. We know your distaste for the sport—"
"I think it's a wonderful idea," Laura praised, cutting him off on the spot. It was the perfect solution in her eyes. Livvie was a natural taskmaster and would push her father and brother to their limits. "You, your father and brother against me and Sophie. But I'd suggest a slight change to that wager…" Remington eyes the deck rails, prepared to throw himself overboard as he groaned inwardly at the suggestion.
"And what might that be?" he asked with dread.
"The losers do all the laundry for a full month." He mulled the thought. He didn't mind doing laundry…
"Deal!" he grabbed at the reprieve.
"Da!" Livvie protested.
"Da!" his son echoed. They both detested the chore.
"I thought you said you could beat your mother," he pointed out.
"I can!" she insisted.
"Then, all's that is left for Holt is to outdo Sophie," he pointed out. "A tall task, granted, but I have every confidence that with a good deal of dedication and a bit of determination, he can do just that." He cringed when he saw the crestfallen look on his eldest daughter's face and the pinched lipped anger Laura sent his way. Bloody hell. In his eagerness to take the easiest way out on the bet, he'd inadvertently taken a swipe at his vulnerable daughter's self-confidence.
Laura stepped in to save them all from the awkward situation he'd created.
"Your father and I received some very… unexpected… news this morning. News that means there will be many changes ahead, but…" she reached for Remington's hand when he sat up next to her "…changes that we believe will be wonderful." Three pairs of curious eyes fell upon the couple.
"Round about Christmas," Remington continued, "We will be welcoming another child." The three kids regarded each other, not sure what he meant.
"Are you adopting another kid, like Aunt Frances and Uncle Donald?" Livvie wondered. This time it was Laura and Remington who exchanged baffled looks.
"Noooooo," Laura drew out the word. "Your Da and I are having a baby."
"Cool!" from the easy going Holt.
"You're joking, right!? What am I supposed to tell my friends? I mean, you're old enough to be grandparents and you're having a baby? Do you know how humiliating that is!?" predictably from their dramatic middle child, who, also predictably, stormed off towards the opposite end of the boat.
"The baby will be very lucky to have you and Da as parents," Sophie remarked quietly.
Laura couldn't say why, but her daughter's reaction left the little hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.