“Oui.” She nodded and got to work straightaway, humming.
Grandaddy patted his shoulder, then headed for the coffeepot. “I been watching on the TV. Grosbec, he ain’t riding so good, eh?”
“You know how he is, huh?” Sam got all bound up, got his shorts in a wad. One bad ride led to another.
Grandaddy nodded. “I do. He got a blackgris-grison him.”
“He’s fine.” Beau knew it came out too sharp, but he didn’t want to think of curses and shit.
“Easy, Chou. I ain’t agin’ him.”
“I know.” He watched Granny deliberately and carefully mutilate an onion. “It’s good to be home.”
Granddaddy nodded. “Good to have you. Your bubba, he’ll be comin’ with news.”
“What kind of news?” Lord, he hoped it wasn’t another two-headed nutria.
“It’s good.” Granny was damn near bouncing. Oh, Lord. There was gonna be a baby.
“Well, good on him.” He was going to be an uncle and a puppy grandpa. Wow.
“He already told?”
“No, ma’am.” He grinned at Granny. “If it’s good, though, it has to be a baby, huh?”
“It’s two, Chouchou! Him and Frannie, they’re having twins!”
“Twins! Christ.” That was gonna be hard. Good, but hard.
“Well, God knows you ain’t giving us babies.”
“Nope. Sorry, Granny. I got Sam, and I love him.” He wasn’t ashamed to admit it, either. Not in front of God or his family.
“Shit, woman, he gives us puppies.” Grandpappy’s words made him laugh, and he was still laughing when Sam came in through the back door.
“Hey, y’all!”
“Grosbec!” Grandpappy got up and gave Sam a backslapping hug. “How you doin’?”
“Glad to be home, sir. So glad. Thanks for the work in the barn. She looks great.”
“Bah. I know how it is to be gone, huh? Need someone to look after.”
Beau hid his smile in the chopping. He loved how Grandpappy blustered about his need to be useful.
“Yes, sir. So, when does Doc Boudroux say we’re gonna have pups?” Sam and Grandpappy bent to talk, two men head-to-head. They both loved the dogs almost as much as they loved the horses. Granny helped Beau, clucking over the store-bought pralines. Soon, though, the kitchen smelled like roux and mirepoix, like beans and spices and rice in the cooker.
Trucks started coming in as the sun set—Uncle Cooter, Jacks, Thierry and his girl. Then Daddy and Momma pulled in. They all brought food, and a couple of the boys brought guitars and a fiddle, and it was a party time—the gumbo was ready. Not loud or nothin’. Just home.
Sam was sitting on the counter drinking a beer, those blue eyes watching him from across the kitchen. Beau’s cheeks heated, and he ducked his head. Shit, but Poot could make him feel all of fifteen. Fifteen and ready to go.
It was like night and day, having Sammy home. There were no tight lips, no frowning, no worry. Hell, even the way Sam was holding that poor sore neck was different. Softer. Easier. Then there was that look. That I’m gonna tear your ass up look. Beau loved that look. It was the one thing guaranteed to make even his stubby toes curl.
When he glanced back up, Sam was still staring at him, wanting him. His brother Thierry passed between them, winked at him. “Man, someone’s hunting you.”
“Hush, you.” It was true, though, and Beau was about to get caught. The family could entertain themselves.
Sam finished his beer, tossed the bottle into the trash, then hopped off the counter, eyes still on him. Beau jerked his chin toward the back door. They had that little cabin down behind the barn for a reason. Sam nodded once, then leaned down to kiss Momma’s cheek before heading out the door.
