My dad turned to Woods, squinting like he was about to ask something slick. “So, what do you bring to the table, young blood? You cook?”
“I grill,” Woods replied coolly. “Steaks, ribs, lamb, fish. You name it.”
My dad nodded slowly. “Alright now. Don’t just talk it. We’re gonna have to test that one day.”
“Say less,” Woods said, lifting his glass of tequila. “I stand on that.”
“You hear that, Ness?” my dad said, nudging her. “Might finally have a man I can stand next to on the grill without getting my ego bruised.”
“You better not let him out-grill you, Woods,” she teased.
Woods smiled, dimples flashing. “I’ll let him get his flowers. I’m not competitive unless I have to be.”
“Oh, he’s a smooth one,” Vanessa muttered with a laugh.
I gave him the side eye as I reached for my lemonade. “He’s trouble, is what he is. Smooth trouble.”
???
A f t e rt h ep l a t e swere cleared and Vanessa insisted on doing the bulk of the cleanup, the rest of us drifted into the living room. Woods was on the couch rolling a fresh blunt. I was curled up in the corner chair, legs tucked under me, sipping on sparkling water like it was something stronger.
“Alright now,” my dad said, holding up the board game he’d brought. “Y’all tryna get this Taboo game poppin’ or what?”
I smirked. “Don’t start talking big if you ain’t ready to lose.”
Woods leaned back with his blunt, watching the smoke curl up toward the ceiling, a lazy grin on his lips. My dad snorted. “You talk spicy for somebody who hasn’t played in a minute.”
“I play enough to be great,” I shot back, already digging through the cabinet where the games were stacked. “And I know for a fact you ain’t beating me in word games.”
Vanessa plopped down on the rug next to my dad, sipping on her drink. “Oh, I love Taboo! Y’all are about to get smoked.”
“Exactly. You talking to a wordsmith,” my dad said, fist-bumping her. “I keep dictionaries in my phone for fun.”
Woods snorted. “You probably do crossword puzzles. That don’t count.”
I laughed, grabbed the buzzer, and flipped open the box. “Alright, me and Woods versus you guys. Y’all ready to lose gracefully?”
My dad rolled up his sleeves like it was about to be a boxing match. “Let’s go.”
We got seated on the floor with the cards and buzzer in the middle. Woods sat close behind me, legs spread wide so I could sit between them. His arms draped across my thighs, all casual and cocky.
I went first, giving clues. “Okay, um… it’s something you eat with syrup—”
“Waffles!” Woods called out instantly.
“Yup. Next. Uh… you wear this on your neck—”
“Chain. Tie. Scarf.”
“Yes! Okay, it’s a movie with ghosts and a little boy—”
“Sixth Sense.”
“Damn right.” I slapped the card down and smirked at my dad. “Easy money.”
“Man, that ain’t about nothing,” my dad grumbled. When it was their turn, Vanessa kept slipping and saying the words youweren’t supposed to say, and my dad kept yelling out things like “bagel” when the answer was clearly “croissant.”
“Did you just say ‘French toast’ when she said ‘French pastry’?” I blinked.
