“Darn right they’re amazing. What do ya think I’m runnin’ here, some half-measured establishment? People come out of their way to eat my biscuits.”
I laugh again. “Then, I’ll take some biscuits, grits and scrambled eggs, please,” I say.
“Same,” Greyson says. “Thanks, Mo.”
“Don’t you go thankin’ me and smilin’ as if you’re not the grumpiest son-of-a-gun this side of the Mississippi.”
“What did you do to him?” Mo asks me.
I just shrug. He’s right, though. Greyson has been smiling. I like the idea that I’m the reason. I like it way too much for my own good.
The food is better than I thought it would be, and I had high hopes. We devour our lunch and then we leave a big tip. Greyson insists on paying, saying, “Day date, remember?” Then we drive back to Waterford just in time for me to kiss him goodbye in the driveway and take off to pick Mia up from school.
When we get back to our house, Mia runs into her room to change out of her school clothes.
Mom asks me, “Where were you all day?”
I just say, “Out.”
“If I didn't know better, I'd say you were seeing someone.”
“Well, good thing you know better.”
I don’t love lying, but I’m not ready for nuclear-level intrusion. The CIA’s got nothing on my mom when she’s hot on the trail of some juicy tidbit of information about my private life.
Thankfully, Mia’s got baseball practice, so she has a snackand then we’re back out the door, free from my mom’s inquisitions.
The group of moms sits on the bleachers in a cluster. I sit just off to the side of them, close enough to not look as though I’m purposely avoiding them.
The kids are practicing batting. When Mia steps up to the plate, Greyson looks over at me and smiles.
“He’s definitely looking at you,” Chirsty, Whitney’s mom, says.
“Smiling too,” Tabitha’s mom says.
They’ve stopped talking among themselves and are collectively staring at me.
“We work together,” I supply, my voice intentionally void of emotion.
“Yes,” Luna’s mom says. “All those long hours together.”
“We work twenty-four hour shifts.”
“A woman in a man’s world,” Chirsty says.
I smile a thin-lipped smile, not sure what to say.
The crack of the ball on the bat draws all our attention away from their not-so-subtle poking.
Mia’s running the bases and the ball is sailing over the outfielders’ heads.
“Wow,” Kinsley’s mom says, seeming sincerely impressed.
“Thanks,” I say, not able to hide my smile when Mia runs home and gives Greyson a high five.
Chapter 25
Greyson
