Of course, having her around did spread out the chore. But the worst of it, as far as he was concerned, was figuring out the menu. It was different from cooking for himself. He’d learned quickly enough that when you cooked for a family, everybody was a critic.

‘‘What is that?’’ Seth demanded when Ethan shook oatmeal into the mix.

‘‘Meat loaf.’’

‘‘Looks like crap to me. Why can’t we have pizza?’’

‘‘Because we’re having meat loaf.’’

Seth made a gagging sound as Ethan dumped some tomato soup into the mix. ‘‘Gross. I’d rather eat dirt.’’

‘‘There’s plenty of it outside.’’

Seth shifted from foot to foot, rose up on his toes to get a closer look at the bowl. The rain was driving him crazy. There was nothing to do. He was starving to death, he had six million mosquito bites, and there was nothing but kid crud and news on TV.

When he listed this litany of complaints, Ethan merely shrugged. ‘‘Go bug Cam.’’

Cam had told him to go bug Ethan. Seth knew from hard experience that it took much longer to bug Ethan than Cam.

‘‘How come you put all that crap in there if it’s called meat loaf?’’

‘‘So it doesn’t taste like crap when you eat it.’’

‘‘I bet it does.’’

For a kid who only months before hadn’t known where his next meal was coming from, Ethan thought darkly, Seth had gotten mighty particular. Instead of saying so, he aimed a single, sharp dart. ‘‘Cam’s cooking tomorrow.’’

‘‘Oh, man. Poison.’’ Seth rolled his eyes dramatically, grabbed his throat, and staggered around the room. Ethan might have been mildly amused if the dogs hadn’t gotten into the act by scrambling in and barking wildly.

By the time Anna walked in, Ethan had the meat loaf in the oven and was dumping aspirin into his palm.

‘‘Hi. Miserable day. Traffic was filthy.’’ She raised an eyebrow as Ethan downed the pills. ‘‘Headache, huh? Allday rain can sure give you one.’’

‘‘This one’s named Seth.’’

‘‘Oh.’’ Concerned, she poured herself a glass of wine and prepared to listen. ‘‘There’s bound to be periods of stress and difficulties. He has a tremendous amount to overcome, and his belligerence is a defense.’’

‘‘Did nothing but complain for the last hour. My ears are still ringing. Doesn’t want meat loaf,’’ Ethan muttered and snagged a beer from the fridge. ‘‘ ‘Why can’t we have pizza?’ He ought to be grateful somebody’s putting food in his belly. Instead he’s saying it looks like crap and will likely taste worse. Then he gets the dogs all fired up so I can’t even work in peace for five damn minutes. And . . .’’

He trailed off, steely-eyed, when he saw her grinning. ‘‘Easy for you to be amused by it.’’