“One layer of snickerdoodle caramel, one layer of chocolate, and one layer of white,” his mom said from the couch.

Snickerdoodles and caramel were two of his favorite things. “Guess I better eat some cake then,” he said, standing.

“We want to get your picture,” Geraldine said as he and everyone else headed back toward the breakfast bar, where, indeed, a miniature wedding-type cake towered. It had white icing with royal-blue ribbon, the North Brothers Sports colors. Scattered around it and on it were sports decorations—edible, it appeared—from footballs and baseballs and soccer balls to ice skates, lacrosse sticks, and hockey pucks. Sticking out of the top was a 3D sign, scoreboard-style, that said Congrats, Cole! Welcome to NBS!

“You guys outdid yourselves,” he said, his mouth watering at the smell of the sugary frosting. “No photos.”

“Have to,” Geraldine said. “A North brother comes home to the family business—that’s PR gold, honey.”

“Spoken like a true marketing maven,” Mason said.

“Aren’t you retired?” Cole asked, knowing full well she’d ended her career as the North Brothers Sports VP of marketing.

“Happily, yes I am, but after thirty-two years, it’s in my blood.” Geraldine cleared the counter of crumbs from dinner and then slid a champagne flute, two-thirds filled with bubbly pale gold liquid, in front of the cake, and fanned some custom-printed North Brothers napkins—there was always a stash somewhere—on the opposite side to make a picture-perfect scene.

“Just an impromptu idea,” Cole said dryly.

“Come around here. Mason, where’s your phone? You take the photo,” Geraldine barked, and they followed her orders. Cole knew it was easier to just get it done than to argue.

Once the shots were taken, Cole glanced around for Sierra while Geraldine and Liz disassembled the layers and cut into each of them so that all three flavors were up for grabs.

Sierra was standing back, out of the way, next to Lexie, as if they didn’t want to intrude on the North family. He went over to her, because he’d rather be with her than anyone else in the room, even if he was coming around to not minding his family.

“Want some cake?” he asked her, unable to resist sliding his hand down her back and to the side of her waist.

“My sister has a saying…” Sierra said.

“Yeah?”

“Is a duck’s butt wet?”

“Only if the duck is in the water,” Cole pointed out.

“The duck is always in the water.”

Grinning, Cole asked, “Which flavor would you like? Or maybe you’d like one of each?”

“Then the duck’s wet butt would get too big. Just chocolate please.”

“Lexie?” Cole asked.

“Still trying to decide. I’ll get my own in a minute.”

“Guest of honor, get your ass over here and get your cake,” Drake said from the counter.