"Molly's on the phone?" he asked as he joined her in the big country kitchen where his family had spent so much of their lives. Focusing on the dishes in the sink, she shook her head. "Abby. Isn't that who you've come to see?" "Why would you assume that?" he asked. Who, besides the best man, had witnessed their kiss on the dance floor? "Defensive, much?" Rory goaded him as he galloped through the kitchen doorway with a giggling Lara on his back, her arms wound so tight around his neck that his voice was a bit strangled. Lucky kid. Clayton couldn't count the number of times he'd been tempted to choke the teenager. His mom reached for the little girl, but Rory charged around the kitchen island, avoiding her. "Rory! Don't go shaking up Lara. She just ate." "We ate a while ago," Rory argued. Rory always argued. "I know because I'm hungry already." "You're always hungry," his mother countered, shaking her head as an affectionate twinkle crept into her eyes. Rory was her baby, and she always caved and spoiled him rotten.
