started attacking a piece of pineapple with his fork. “Edward—”
I was 100 percent sure he knew damn well that wasn’t his name. Knowing my grandfather, he probably knew everything about him by then. Birthday, height, weight, every team he’d ever played for, the names of every member of his family. Everything his stalker self could find on the internet.
“Where are you from? Australia?”
All right. This was where he was going with this. Being a pain in the ass was what came the most naturally to him. I eyed Jonah as I tried to spoon a little bit of extra mushy oatmeal into Mo’s mouth.
He chewed, eyes on my grandfather. “Auckland. New Zealand, Mr. DeMaio.”
Mr. DeMaio? Somebody was laying it on thick. I made a face at my girl who responded by grinning.
“New Zealand,” my grandfather echoed with an ornery tone that only those who knew him really well would recognize. “Is that where your parents are from?”
“Yes. My great-great-grandparents on my mum’s side immigrated there around the 1870s from Scotland and Norway,” Jonah explained, glancing up and focusing on Mo. He took a breath and exhaled out another smile as his eyes slid to meet mine. “My other granddad is Samoan, and my nan’s got some Māori and Samoan. Some Pakeha too.”
That had all three of us looking over at him blankly.
“European.” He paused. “White.”
I just realized I had never asked him that. Honestly, I had never really thought much about where he got those—stupid—crazy looks from. I had met two of his teammates who were Māori, both of whom had a richer skin tone than he did. And as I looked at his features right then, I realized he didn’t look… one thing or another. He really was a perfect mix of heritages, from his bone structure to his skin color… everything.
He really was a handsome asshole.
But a lame one.
Grandpa huffed a second before he backstabbed me. “Lenny has always liked her… Europeans.”
I didn’t think twice about flinging Mo’s spoon right at my grandfather, and it was his good luck he had reflexes like a retired cat because he lunged out of the way at the last minute, avoiding getting hit in the shoulder.
“It’s your eyeball next time. You don’t really need both,” I warned him, shaking my head at his betrayal. Always liked her Europeans. I didn’t even know how the hell he still managed to surprise me.
Grandpa, though, fucking laughed for the first time.
I slid him a look as I got up and grabbed another baby spoon from the drawer. Fortunately none of us said much the rest of the breakfast besides Peter bringing up comments about a couple of the guys he was training, with me and Grandpa Gus commenting on it. After we all finished, Peter stood up and headed straight toward the coffeemaker. “Jonah, would you like some coffee?”
I was in the middle of trying to spoon the last of Mo’s oatmeal into her mouth when he answered.
“I’d take a cup of tea if you have any.”
I forgot about how much he liked tea, I thought randomly, annoyed I remembered that detail.
“We don’t have any,” I answered, sounding bitchy, even though it was the truth.
“It’s all good,” Jonah responded, not sounding at all put-out.
Peter glanced at me over his shoulder after refilling two mugs. As he and my gramps grudgingly left the kitchen, he mouthed go do something.
Shit.
I guess we could skip lunch and go straight into our talk to avoid spending more time with Salty Britches in the house and on edge.
“Would you like to go for a walk around the neighborhood with Mo and me?” I made myself ask as I licked the rest of what she didn’t eat off the spoon.
His “yeh” was so instant I had to glance at him.
Did he have to sound so excited? Suck-up. I nodded more to myself than anything before I turned around, setting the towel aside. “Okay. If you don’t mind watching her for a second, I’ll go get dressed.”
His eyes widened, but he nodded, his gaze immediately straying to our supreme leader who was sitting in her high chair, chewing on a teething ring.
I forgot that according to what I’d overheard, he hadn’t seemed to have a whole lot of experience with babies.
Well, it wasn’t like I had either. He’d learn. If he wanted to.
If he knew what was good for him.
“She’s not going to try and swan dive off the seat or blow anything up,” I tried to assure him, suddenly remembering