His what? Oh yeah, he would be turning forty-three soon. How had she remembered that? He certainly had no idea when her birthday was.

He squeezed the back of his neck. “Hadn’t thought about it.”

She gave the bid sheet a meaningful glance. “Well, it looks like someone should bake you a chocolate cake.”

He couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Maybe so. And if they do, you’ll have to come over and help us eat it.”

At his words, her expression revealed a subtle shift, and Mitch mentally kicked himself. Why on earth had he said that?

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “That would be lovely.”

It was suddenly difficult to breathe. He must walk away. Right this second before something bad happened. Move your feet, Mitch. Move!

He took a step toward the door. “I better get back in there.”

With a grumble, he turned and fled before she could answer. Boy, oh boy, was he an idiot. He hurried into the gym and took a deep breath, consoling himself with the fact that he would most likely not have a birthday party anyway, so he would most likely not have to worry about Marge attending. Most likely. But the whole incident had his insides jumbled up worse than the tools in his toolbox.

Maybe he should talk to someone about this. Someone who could give him some perspective on why he would do such a dumb thing. Frank was no longer an option, so who? It definitely couldn’t be big-mouth Ralph. Mitch needed someone with more discretion. And wisdom. Ralph was not overly blessed with either of those qualities.

The third set was ending as he collected his wits and returned to his seat. Moose Creek had lost another close one, 25 to 20. They’d better get their act together, or the match would soon be over.

He caught Jeremy scowling at him and indulged in an internal self-congratulation. Jeremy would never be able to outbid him. Mitch might’ve pulled an ill-advised move with Marge, but he was winning that cake, darn it all to heck.

He checked his watch. Aha. It was almost eight o’clock.

Bea furrowed her brow at him as if she knew what he was thinking. “Was that necessary, Dad?”

He held up his hands. “Did you know there’s a layer of toffee frosting inside the cake?”

Her mouth opened. “You’re kidding me.”

“It says so on the sheet.”

The fourth set began. Jeremy stood. “That’s it.”

Bea grabbed his arm. “Just leave it.”

He pulled his arm away. “You were just telling me how bad you were craving the stupid cake. I want to do this for you.”

Bea frowned. “If it’s so stupid, then just forget about it.”

Mitch looked between them, feeling a bite of remorse over the trouble he’d stirred up.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jeremy said.