Grant noticed the surprised look on my face and chuckled. “I told you it wouldn’t be what you expected.”
“I like it,” I said, instead of admitting that he was right.
“The kids’ room is a few doors down, but if you’d rather keep Kalen in here, Layla has a portable crib you can use.”
“Since he’s so young, and this is a new environment for him, I think it’d be better for him to stay in here with me,” I said and hoped I didn’t sound rude.
Grant nodded. “I’ll have the prospect bring the crib and set it up. What time does he usually go down for the night?”
“Usually around eight.”
Grant looked at his watch. “That gives us about an hour. Do you want to go out to the common room until you need to get him ready for bed?”
“Sure,” I said and lifted Kalen from his seat.
Once again, I was bombarded with people as soon as we entered the common room, but thankfully, their attention was focused on Kalen and not me.
“I’ll be happy to hold him if you want to get something to eat,” an older lady offered. “I’m Leigh, Judge’s mom.”
“She’s everybody’s mom,” Grant added.
“Thank you. That’d be great. It’s getting close to his bedtime, so he might get fussy soon.”
“I’ll bring him right to you if he does,” she promised.
Grant led me to a table loaded with food—hamburgers, hot dogs, hot wings, and french fries.
I decided on a hamburger, fries, and hot wings, but Grant stopped me when I went to add the wings to my plate. “The ones on the left were made with regular hot sauce. The ones on the right are coated in the sauce Judge makes using Carolina Reapers.”
“No thank you,” I said and went for the wings on the left. “I like to be able to taste my food when I eat it.”
Grant laughed. “Me too. His wings are way too hot for me.”
“I should’ve known something was different since there’s still so many on the plate.”
“At the end of the night, most of the food will be gone, but there’ll still be plenty of his hot wings left.”
“You talking shit about my food?” Judge asked from behind Grant.
“Stating the facts, brother,” Grant shot back.
Judge shrugged. “They’re not for everyone.”
“Did you make the other wings too?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I used to, but I was relieved of my duties after an unfortunate incident where I cross-contaminated the sauces.”
“Oh, no,” I gasped.
“Oh, yes,” Grant laughed. “It was a regular night at the clubhouse when all of a sudden chaos erupted. Then, we ran out of milk. It was bad.”
“I’ve always wondered what the super-hot peppers were like, but I’ve been too scared to try one,” I shared.
“I haven’t had one either. I was one of the lucky ones the night of the great mix-up,” Grant said and walked to a table where we joined another couple. “This is Coal and his Old Lady Aspen,” Grant introduced.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Blakely,” I said and took a seat.
“Nice to meet you too,” Aspen said. “So, how did you two meet?”
