“Bronson,” he introduces during their greeting, “but you can call me Bronz ‘cause I’ve got all of it,” a flexing of his other sleeveless bicep is executed, “and-”
“No brains,” I intervene with a slap to the back of the head.
“Ou!”
“It’s actuallybrawnswhen referencing your muscles notbronz,” my other half gingerly corrects, “but more importantly, you’re more impressive to most girls when you’re just being yourself versus some exaggerated version you think you need to be for their attention.”
He gives the back of his head a small rub. “Is that how Thayne got you?”
“Yeah,” she meekly bites her bottom lip and meets my gaze, “and it’s how I’m sure he’ll keep me.”
“For forever if you let me.” Rather than allow for a possibly unwanted rebuttal, I politely segue by offering the beverage melting in my possession. “I made you coffee for the drive.” She swings her “Tooth Be Told” beach bag over her loose fitted black dress covered shoulder and accepts the drink. “Cinnamon horchata iced coffee.”
“I’ve never had horchata iced coffee!” Excitement floods her beautiful dark gaze during the lifting of it to her lips. “What is it?”
“Coffee mixed with horchata flavoring, which I made from scratch with rice, water, cinnamon, and vanilla.”
She pauses instead of tasting. “Wait. Youmadethe flavoring?”
“Yeah.” My floral, tropical Hawaiian shirt sporting shoulders innocently bounce. “Gave me somethin’ to do last night besides cock blockin’.”
“WhichIdidn’t appreciate.”
“Which is whyyouaren’t bein’ left alone today,” I mumble back.
“Wow,” Gilly warmly whispers out, “that’s so…thoughtful.” Her teeth briefly sink into her lip again. “I’ve never had anyonemake mecoffee before. Let alone the stuff that goes in it.”
Loving that I’m the first – and the first for so much – has my shoulders pushing back in pride at the same time I declare, “More than happy to be the firstand last, Gillybean.”
She giggles and indulges in her first sip, something she enjoys considering the heavenly hum that escapes.
AlGreenhelpmenow.
I’m about one moan away from sending Bronny home in an Uber and blowing off the event to engage in a bit of “Love and Happiness”.
“This is soooo good,” she praises after a second taste. “You make it often?”
“Horchata? No.” I wait for her to shut and check that the door is locked behind her. “Coffee? Yeah. Been makin’ that since Gramps saw I could reach the button.”
My little brother fights the urge to chuckle knowing Gramps treated him the same way.
“Growin’ up, I’d make his for him – black no sugar-”
“On Sundays he’d put a shot of Wilcox in it to celebrate the lord,” interjects Bronny.
“I’d make Grams for her – two sugars-”
“On Sundays Gramps would put two shots of Wilcox in hers to help her find ‘more reasons’ to celebrate the lord,” cackles my brown swim trucks wearing houseguest.
“And I’d always make it for our mom.” A bittersweet smile slides into place. “Shelet me experiment. Would try anything, anyway I made it.” My hands find their way into my green and white triangle prints trunks. “She was always supportive like that.”
This time Bronny doesn’t say anything.
He didn’t get much time with her.
Even when she was alive, she was hardly around.
Sure, Grams and Gramps helped raise us, but Mom worked two jobs, doing her best toprovidefor us.
