“I know we have dinner at your mama’s Wednesday and Chinese and football with my mama Thursday, but we should do a Friendsgiving one night this week.” She nudged an elbow into his middle. He grunted. Damn, she had one pointy elbow and didn’t know what a light touch was. “Maybe Tuesday? Something light and casual, like soup or chili.”
He tightened his arm around her. Not a bad way to wake up at all. “Friendsgiving.”
“Yeah, like Thanksgiving but better because it’s with your friends instead of family.”
Thanksgiving with friends, something casual. Maybe Tuesday. He rolled to his back, arms folded behind hishead. According to his mama, Tick wasn’t flying in until late Wednesday afternoon, so if they did this thing Tuesday night, he wouldn’t have to navigate that emotional morass. He squashed the little voice whispering she was right about him avoiding emotional conflict. Okay, fine, he avoided his cousin, but damn. What else was he supposed to do? Make Tick, who couldn’t even look at him, uncomfortable and torment himself?
If they did this Tuesday, he’d have to contend with Barlow, but he could handle that, handle being with people who knew the worst of him for a couple of hours.
“Tuesday works.”
“Great.” She wriggled to sit up, cross-legged and facing him, his shirt slipping off one shoulder, the button that had come undone while they slept offering a tantalizing view of the curve of her breasts. In the early rosy light filtering in the windows, her hair glimmered like a gold curtain. Her bright gaze danced over the room. “My place would probably work better. I love it here, but I have more room for people to spread out.”
“Sounds good.” He was fine with her place — he didn’t want Barlow or even David and Mackey in his space. Hell, Del and Chuck hadn’t even been inside here. Not that he’d invited them or anything. He saw them at church or family functions, golfed with them and Gene every so often, but the days of hanging out with his cousins were long behind him.
“Plus, Lorraine and Barb usually share a sitter, so being on the same street for dinner is good for them.” She leaned sideways to grab her phone from the nightstand. The subtle scent of his soap blended with her warm skin drifted over him. Biting her bottom lip, she typed out a long text. “You’ll get with Andy and Wally, right?”
Mid-stretch, he stilled, toes pointed toward the end of the bed. On an even breath, he came back to rest. “We’re good with your crew.”
Her thumbs paused, and she lifted a narrow-eyed gaze to his face, trying to figure him out like he was some particularly difficult poem. “Any particular reason you don’t want to include your friends?”
“You know Wally gets me in trouble.” That was easier than getting into how Wally resented Tick and his buddies. Colt refused to discuss it, always had, because he was in the wrong. That was all that mattered.
Her lips plumped to a twisted pout. “I sincerely doubt he’ll lead you astray over a bowl of soup.”
Neck itchy and tight, he jackknifed to sit up, wrists on his knees. Once upon a time, they’d all been buddies. Those friendships had carried past high school, too, until Colt ruined everything. “Holly, you trust me?”
“Of course.”
“Let’s leave my friends out of this.” He scuffed a palm over his nape. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Colt, the idea is that we are blending our lives—”
“I’ll ask—” He swallowedAndy and Grace. He’d talk to Wally, too, and good ol’ Wally would refuse to be in the others’ presence, so ultimately it would all be fine. “I’ll talk to them.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me here?”
He shrugged. “Wally’s social life kinda revolves around Pete’s work schedule. During the week, Andy’s usually doing sports stuff with the kids.”
She studied him, lips pursed. Defensiveness prickled up his neck.
“I said I’d talk to them, babe.”
Lips firmed, she let it go, and he released a relieved breath.
Okay, fine, she might have a point about him and emotional conflict, but honestly — nobody wanted to experience Wally when he was on a roll.
And he’d probably get on one if they “blended” their friends.
Coltdidn’t want to experience that.
The subject stayed dead while they shared breakfast then parted for the day. Like most Saturdays, Holly had plans — updating her clothing sales display at Aunt Lenora’s store, a couple of photo sessions. With the cabin quiet, the walls pressing in a little, Colt turned Ralph loose in the backyard and escaped to the shed.
Today felt like a woodworking day, sanding and shaping and smoothing, taking something rough and transforming it to something useful and beautiful.
He was deep into thought, hand planing, nose filled with the sharp, clean smell of fresh cedar, when Ralph’s wild barking filtered into his awareness. He straightened, recognized the heavy footsteps on the gravel outside the shed, and groaned.
Wally.
