"Burt Reynolds is in the yard." Zoe leans against the cool countertop and contemplates opening the fridge and sticking her head in it for a while. Lavon looks up from his newspaper and takes a sip of orange juice.
"Burt Reynolds is free to roam," he says.
"Are those pancakes?" Zoe asks. She slinks across the room and abandons the cool of the countertop in favor of grabbing a fork from the second place setting and stabbing over the top of Lavon's paper, trying to get a piece of pancake.
"They are," Lavon says agreeably, but he slides the plate out of her reach at the last minute. "Why, did you want some?"
"Uh huh," Zoe says. She walks around him and goes for the pancakes again. Lavon catches her wrist.
"Shoulda said something when I was making 'em," Lavon says "These here are mine." He manages to keep a straight face for about two seconds before he grins, wide enough to split his face in two. Zoe can't help herself when she smiles back. Lavon releases her wrist and she takes a bite of pancake, lets out an exaggerated groan of pleasure as she chews.
"Woah now, sounds like you, Miss Hart, are enjoying those pancakes a little too much," Wade says, seconds after the screen door slams.
"Shut up, Wade," Zoe and Lavon say in unison, and they all three laugh.