Riley looks at me expectantly, so I look to Mallory. As much as I don’t want to intrude on her family time, my judgment is clouded. Part of me wants to spend as much time with her as I can, regardless of who is around.
I’m also fascinated by their dynamic. Growing up with parents who wanted to be around wasn’t my reality, so when I see something beautiful, I gravitate toward it. They’ve been working hard for the past few months to rebuild their relationship.
After a moment, Mallory nods. I expect a look of defeat or worry, but her excitement is palpable.
“I’d love to join you,” I finally say.
The words are barely out before Riley has my wrist in a death-grip and pulls me into the crosswalk. She doesn’t even know what vehicle I drive, but she clearly isn’t one to ask questions.
“So, Kenny Boy. Can I call you that? I need you to drive because I got a ride from the airport, and we need to get to the nail salon!”
“Sure, but my grandma calls me that when I’m on her last nerve, so if I jump, that’s why,” I say.
“Stop, that’s so cute,” Mallory gushes.
I almost trip over my feet when I finally process what Riley said. “Wait. Did you say nail salon?”
“Sure did!” Riley beams. “Pedicures and then dinner. The first person to laugh covers the dinner tab. This is the first time we’ve done this in over a year,so it’s extra special.”
“No!” I screech, unsuccessful in my attempt to free my wrist. “My feet are the most ticklish part of my body! I’ll wait for you guys outside. Where my feet are safe and untouched.”
“Too late, Gray. You already agreed, and she clearly wants to see this through.” Mallory kisses my cheek and jogs to Riley, pointing at my truck. “Both of us have ticklish feet. That’s what makes the game so much more fun.”
“Fun? Sounds like torture,” I grumble, fishing my keys from my back pocket.
Riley and Mallory look at me with the same cheeky smile, and I swallow the rest of my complaints. I make a mental note to never put Mallory, Riley, Nan, and Karla in the same room. Those four could convince me to do just about anything.
“Fine,” I exhale. “But if I kick someone, I’m blaming you two.”
I weasel my way between the two women and swing open the passenger door for Riley and the back door for Mallory.
“Handsome, smart, and a gentleman? I like you, Kenny Boy. Now, to the nail salon!” she hollers.
What have I gotten myself into?
“Kenneth!” Mallory wheezes. “I can’t believe you screamed like that!”
I roll my eyes, holding her by the back of her shirt like she’s a kitten. I learn something new about her every day. My current favorite is that when she finds something hilarious, her legs give out and she falls to the ground.
“It should be illegal to be that ticklish, son. You should get that checked out,” Riley chokes through her laughter. “All she did was pullyour feet out of the water and you laughed! Quickest loss we’ve seen so far!”
Finally recovered, Mallory straightens and ties the knot in her top. Riley barely let us stop by Mallory’s house so she could take a quick shower and change. Stretched curls are pulled to the base of her neck in a tight bun, a few hanging free to frame her face. A pale green skirt hangs down to the middle of her shins, with an eye-catching slit on her left side all the way up. Sandals show off the tiny white flowers on her orange nails.
As if I need another reason to stare at her, the wind picks up and whips the fabric around her thighs. Mallory’s body is a work of art. Every curve, dip, and line perfectly carved and curated.
I cough away a rising need from deep in my gut, refocusing on the next part of the night.
“Well, I guess dinner is on me,” I say, forcing my lips into a frown. “A loss is a loss. Where are we going?”
“Ida’s Kitchen,” Mallory says. “Have you been there before?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Good.” Riley hooks her arm with mine and pulls me two doors down. The purple sign in the window tells me we’re already here. “You’re in for a treat. I hope you’re ready for the best soul food of your life.”
Not even two steps into the dimmed room, a crash of hellos bellow from all over the small building, aimed at the two women walking ahead of me. Before we’re even seated, a woman with a white apron bounces over.
“My girls! Welcome back to Clear Lake, Riley!” The three women hug before her deep-set eyes shift to me. “And who is this fella?”
