Cinderella eventually shows up with a gang of other costumed entertainers who all look a tiny bit sketchy and reek of cigarette smoke. The children go wild. I take the opportunity to refill the snack bowls.
Everyone’s having a good time…
Until Penny and Walker reach their boiling point over at the makeshift bar. I witness it up close and personal as I’m replenishing the salad bar at the neighboring table.
“My god, Walker. Would you lighten up?” My cousin seethes. “I tend bar at the most popular night spot in town. I think I can handle making some fruit punch for a child’s birthday party.”
His big shoulders vibrate on an irritated exhale. “All I’m saying is if you want to make the kids some fruit punch, the least you can do is use some real damn fruits. That powdered shit is loaded with sugar and artificial colorings and all that other crap.” He points accusingly at a jug that Penny is stirring.
My cousin’s response is an exasperated roll of her eyes. “Gosh, you’re so bossy.” She throws her head back.
With a frustrated shrug, Walker shoves his massive hand through his hair. “That’s just my advice, Penn. Take it or leave it. You’re just gonna do what you wanna do anyway.” He turns away from her. “But you know I’m right.”
“Hey, where are you going?” she calls after him. “We can have a disagreement without you walking away, y’know.”
He issues a grunt and strolls off.
Looking supremely pissed, Penny dips her fingers into the jug of condemned fruit punch and flicks it in her best friend’s direction. The frosty red liquid splatters his arm and soaks through the back of his flannel shirt.
Penny cringes, instantly realizing that she may have overreacted. A teensy bit.
This behavior is out of character for my cousin. Penny’s the femme fatale, the vixen. And the vixen does not go around dousing the guests with fruit punch mix at children’s parties.
Walker turns around slowly, a lethal glint in his eyes. “Did you just…?”
Penny snaps out of her shock. She plants a fist on her hip. “Maybe I did…” she challenges.
Walker narrows his gaze on her. He snatches a lettuce leaf from my salad bar.
“Hey!” I protest. But he’s too busy flinging it at Penny to pay me any mind. It lands in her cleavage.
She gasps in horror as she picks the soggy leaf from her boobs with her perfect French manicure. She throbs with offended energy. But, I see the grin twitching the corners of her mouth.
And is it just me or is the sexual energy rising between them? Sort of seems like foreplay…
They have the crowd’s attention now. An audience is gathering. Cinderella watches on from the edge of the yard where she’s lighting up a fresh cigarette.
“Penny, are you just gonna take that?” Lexi teases from over by the DJ stand.
Little instigator, she is. A grinning Cannon locks an arm around his wife’s waist and slaps a hand over her big mouth.
My cousin’s narrowed eyes tell me she’s out for blood. She scoops a handful of shaved ice out of the cooler and shapes it into a snowball. Walker holds up a hand defensively. “Don’t you—”
Before he can even finish, Penny launches the ice. It smacks him in the center of the chest.
A cumulative gasp rings out around the yard. The kids find it hilarious. Their chirps of laughter fill the air.
The towering farmer lifts a brow, a small smile playing on the edges of his mouth. “Oh, it’s on, Penelope!”
He snatches up the garden hose.
The crowd hoots and whistles with amusement.
“No, you wouldn’t…” Penny dares him.
Walker’s finger glides over the trigger on the sprayer nozzle. He grins threateningly. “Maybe I would…”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like this. He’s usually the quiet, growly Kingston in the corner but now as he’s sparring with his best friend, there’s something playful in his demeanor.
“No, you wouldn’t…” Penny insists.
Walker tilts his head to the side. He offers up a half-smirk and a shrug.
The kids cheer him on. “Spray the water, Uncle Walker!” Callie yells.
Walker aims the nozzle. Penny lifts her arms for cover and charges in his direction. The hose gets trapped between them as they wrestle, arms tangled around each other. They half-laugh, half-fight. And I half-think they’re about to rip each other’s clothes off and go at it on my back lawn. The children jump and cheer as the adults look on, laughing.