“You always use too much salt. You should not be a cook,” he said.
Amusement and love took me. “Once. At the family picnic in the park two summers ago, I may have used too much salt in the potato dish.”
Two taps. Three taps. Two taps. “Twenty-seven times through the years,” he said, his focus moving to the trees. “I can list them all for you.”
And he could. I snorted. It was too bad I couldn’t use his statistical brilliance to help me with my cases—at least not at the moment. Maybe someday I’d have enough information to know what to ask, perhaps as soon as the next day, once I got my hands on the DEA files. “No, thanks. I’ll take your word for it.”
“People usually do,” he mused. He smoothed down his ironed jeans. “You should stop avoiding going inside now.”
I started. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
I bit my lip. “Why would I avoid going inside?” Even as I said the words, I wanted to wince at the stupidity of them.
He sighed. “You got shot. There are grandmothers inside. It’s that simple.”
Yeah, it was. Not that being fussed over by grandmothers was a bad thing. But when it came with lots of other attention, sometimes it was too much. “Is that why you’re out here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’m out here because I am me.”
I smiled again. Yeah. That nailed it. People gave small towns a hard time, but truth be told, we’ve always accepted everyone. If someone’s uncle only ate purple food, you tossed in some purple food coloring for your mashed potatoes at the picnic. If a person saw ghosts, you let them have their moment. If kids had trouble concentrating, you figured out how to help them, even if the answer was unconventional. Even before diagnoses such as autism became the norm, we treated our ‘eccentric’ folks just like everyone else. “Did Aunt Jenny bake you red potatoes again?” Pauley had gone through a red only eating phase about three years ago, but he was back to eating all colors now, and Jenny couldn’t seem to let go of the red phase.
“Jenny is on a date, busy, seeing a dirt-bag asshole of a wife cheater from Bozeman,” Pauley said, his features still pale in profile.
I jumped. “Where in the world did you hear that?”
“Your dad,” Pauley said.
I smacked my head. My dad was one of the greatest guys in the world, but he really had no filter. None. Why hadn’t I heard that Aunt Jenny was dating someone from Montana? When had this started? “Well, I should get in there.” And find some answers.
Pauley smirked. “Yes. Also, Nick Basanelli was invited tonight.”
My stomach dropped. “What? Why?”
“Well, we have a lawyer in the family, so that’s not it.” Pauley blinked. “Though your mother has no grandchildren.”
Oh, man. I sighed and turned for the deep steps leading up to the door. “I’ll save a seat for you by the river swing.”
“You always do.”
* * *
After too manyhugs and kisses to count, and a quick greeting to Nick, I helped set out food before heading for the small barrel table by the river. It fit three people, and Pauley had already somehow gotten a plate and sat. I joined him, followed by my sister Tessa. It was very often the three of us at the table. I thought of it as Pauley’s table, away from too much commotion.
Yet, no one had ever tried to take my place. Maybe it was my table, too. How often did the family oddball know they were the oddball? Hmmm. “Am I weird?”
“Yes,” Pauley said, separating his corn and salad with a knife.
I chuckled and dug into my macaroni salad. It was Nana O’Shea’s recipe, and she still thought her several tablespoons of sweet pickle juice was a secret, so we let her have that one.
“Man, he’s hot,” Tessa said over her glass of tea.
I didn’t need to look, but I did anyway. Nick stood over by the barbecue talking with my dad. He was just as spectacular out of his suit, wearing dark jeans and a black golf shirt with a logo from a Palm Desert course. It stretched nicely across his chest, and the hand holding a beer bottle looked strong. Masculine. “You’d make a nice couple,” I said, ignoring the stress that would put on me since I worked for the guy.
She coughed. “I was talking about you. Geez. Can you see me with a guy like that?”
I paused and turned to stare at her. “Yes.” Tess was smart and kind and wild. Truly beautiful with red-blonde hair and green eyes. “Why not?”
