“Hi, guys,” I said, trying not to breathe too deeply. It smelled like Woodstock out here.
Grandpa held a joint toward me. “Want a hit?” he asked in his drawling Okie accent.
I waved it away. “No thanks. There’s a beer or two downstairs with my name on them, and if I smoke, I’ll just pass out.”
Mom stepped next to me and slipped an arm around my waist. She was short enough that she could rest her head on my shoulder. Ikissed the top of it and wrapped my arm around her back. Like Anabel, she wore her hair long and loose. The difference was that hers was a medium brown shot through with gray that cascaded down to her elbows in a riot of coarse curls.
“Long week? Lots of orders keeping you busy?” she asked me.
Megan shot me a sly look from beside the railing and exhaled a plume of smoke. “That and herboyfriend,Stan.”
My newfound inner dragon reared her scaly head.
I would incinerate her.
“Oh, yeah?” Dave asked.
“Oh, no,” I told him. No, no, no. The last thing I needed was a journalist interested in the new guy in town. The best course of action here was to keep completely quiet about this.
“Is he handsome?” Mom asked, her voice dreamy.
“Okay, I think that’s enough for Mom,” I said, turning her toward the door. “We still have to get through dinner.”
“But I want to hear about my soon-to-be-grandson-in-law,” Grandpa said.
I stopped to point at him. “Don’t you start.”
He grinned, unrepentant, and took the joint from Megan. I came from a family of smart-asses.
“Everyone calm your tits, I was just trying to get a rise out of her,” Megan said. “Her friend is hard up, and she’s being her typical, I-must-rescue-all-things self.”
Thank you, I thought, leading Mom inside. Though that seemed slightly insulting there at the end.
“Yeah, but is he handsome?” Mom asked. She lifted her index finger and booped me on the nose. She was definitely cut off.
“Grandma really got to you, huh?” I asked her once we were safely inside.
Mom straightened, her expression sobering. “Bless her heart,” she said, deadpan.
Chapter 8: Ben
Iwas pulling the ham out of the oven when my phone dinged with a text message from Ella.
Updated ETA: 5:15. Jack’s grandkids don’t want to let me leave.
I set the sizzling pan on the stovetop, shook off an oven mitt, and leaned over and picked up my phone.Roger that. Dinner is just about ready. I hope you’re hungry.
FAMISHED. Amended updated ETA: three minutes. These little rugrats will just have to cry it out.
I grinned and set the phone down. Thoughts of Ella’s visit kept me distracted for most of the afternoon. I had a lot to do in preparation. Sure, I could have thrown in a couple of frozen pizzas and called it a night, but after all her talk of visiting with family and then opening presents with my parents via FaceTime this morning, I was more than a little homesick, so I decided to make a full-blown Christmas dinner with some of my favorite Hawaiian dishes. I got to work plating them while I waited for her to arrive.
As promised, just a few minutes later, car lights splashed across the front windows. I went to the door to greet her. The outside lights were on, shining like a halo around Ella’s truck. She swung her door open and all but fell out of it.
Okay then.
She leaned into the back for the dogs. I expected them to zoom around my yard, but they dropped from the cab and stayed by her side. Maybe she didn’t want them running around in the dark. I swear I heard howling a few nights ago.
Together, they made their way toward the porch. The dogs dragged their paws. It looked like Ella was limping. Shit. They were exhausted. I should have expected this after all the holiday antics Ella described. Now I felt like a selfish asshole for asking her to come over.
