The door swings open, and he steps out onto the porch, which is right when Luke and I jump out from behind a planter. “Boo!” I shout, as Luke yells, “Chipmunks!” Cade flies back, and I glance down at Luke, wondering what the hell would inspire him to randomly scream chipmunks. But I don’t think about that for long, because when I look back up Cade’s stern face is the color of a tomato and he’s wearing his beer down the front of his fresh T-shirt. Oh yeah. We got him good. All I offer is a lame attempt at a joke. “Wet T-shirt contest?” And all I get back is a scowl.
