“Tonight? I have to work the tasting room tomorrow, and Wok and Rolls closes before we do.”
“I’m here all night.” Weariness pours out of her answer.
“You need some rest.”
“I know,” she says with a yawn.
“I’m off at five. I’ll swing home and do some chores, pick up food, and be right over.”
“You sure?”
“One hundred percent. What can I bring to the party?”
“Party’s a strong word when it’s related to my parents,” she says and I love the wry tone in her voice. She’s tired but notbeaten down by what’s been bothering her. “I’ve got the dessert. How about that pasta salad?”
“You liked my noodles.”
“Cruz, I haven’t been around your noodles enough to know. We keep getting interrupted.”
My laughter spills out of me. “I’ll bring so much pasta salad you can’t help but be satisfied.”
“My parents will really appreciate this,” she says softly.
I appreciate her parents for giving me another reason to get close to Elodie when she’s neck-deep in work. “It’s my pleasure. I’d like to get to know them when they’re not worried about their health and safety. I might even have to study up on structural integrity or some other architectural terms.”
“He’ll be too busy asking you about distilling. Dad loves to learn new things. FYI, if you want to butter up Mom, the new library wing’s named after her. It’s her maiden name. The Patricia Lang addition.”
“No shit? I never put that together, but I’ll keep it in mind. As much as I’ve turned into a good boy, I don’t hang out at the library.”
“Mm-hmm.” It’s more of a resigned hum. “Dad donated to the park foundation, so he got a gazebo with his name on it.”
No wonder Elodie is afraid to upset them. She says she doesn’t want to concern them, but she also doesn’t want to feel unworthy. The Palmer who caused problems instead of helping to solve them.
Her parents and sister are that family, the ones who contribute to the community to help poor-as-hell kids like me. I grew up lashing out at kids who had wealth and privilege and the audacity to be nice on top of it. If they’d made a mistake, I would’ve torn them apart. Socially, at least. “I look forward to the picnic, and I appreciate both the invite and a chance to hang with you again.”
“Thanks, Cruz.”
“My pleasure.” I mean it. Anything with her is. When we hang up, I stare at the phone until the hinges on the front door squeak loud.
Lane enters, wincing. “We got any lube out here?”
“For him or for her?”
“The stuff that warms when you rub it.” He smirks. “I’ll remember to grab a can when I come out next.” His gaze dips to the phone in my hand. “Talking to your girlfriend? Was wondering what was taking you so long. Haven got tired of waiting and went to lunch.”
I didn’t mean to hold him up, but worth it. “Elodie’s parents invited me out for a meal on Sunday.”
He crosses his arms and appraises me. “Hanging out at their house?”
“Her dad likes me, and her mom was concussed.” I already told him about the hospital stay and the ride home.
He arches a brow. “You nervous?”
“No.”
“You should be.”
“Why? The older crowd loves me. I’m a hit at bingo when Edna asks us to go with her.” Our part-time accountant takes in every person under fifty as one of her kids or grandkids.
