Chapter 8 #2
“Never?” That sounded like surprise. He guessed it would be. Adam lived in a different world, where everyone went all the way through high school and had electricity growing up.
“Nope. She’s a bit shy.”
“You want to shower? Or you just need to wash up some?”
“I’ll just splash my face.” His lips twitched. “I get in the water with you and I won’t be able to just warsh.”
“And the women are waiting for us, trust me.” Adam gave him one more hard kiss before they got to cleaning up.
He wet his hair, smoothing his curls. “Lord, I need a haircut, me.”
“I can do it later.” Adam raised a brow when Landon stared. “What? I have two brothers.”
“’Member me to peer at their hairs in a few.”
Adam laughed. “We all learned in self-defense. Granny is a terrible barber.”
“Good to know.” It was hard to tell grannies no when they wanted to do for you.
“You know it. You ready, honey?”
“I look okay?” At Adam’s nod, he grinned. “Then I am.”
“Good deal.” They linked hands, Adam’s big, callused fingers grasping his.
Brian and Chris were waiting, a passel of dogs running like wild things around them. There was a border collie and an Aussie, a big old white thing and a Corgi. All herders.
“Oh, lord. Lord. Look at all y’all…” He knelt down, letting the dogs jump on him, one big old bloodhound running up just like Mr. Beau and Sam Bell’s Boudreaux.
“That’s Sammy,” Adam said.
“What? The pup is one of Mr. Sam’s?”
“Well, yes, but he’s also named Sam.” That grin… Adam was purely evil.
“Oh, ho! That’s plumb mean. You don’ look too much like Mr. Sam, but I bet Petunia is your momma.”
Sam the dog head-butted him before licking his face. He wondered if that Corgi was Brian’s dog. It was loud and really bitey.
“Lord, why don’t you travel with them?” He couldn’t bear not teasing.
“The dogs?” Adam snorted. “I’m not Dillon Walsh. Clowns travel with their dogs.”
He snorted. His pups were less…house friendly than these. Him and Sister, they had themselves a pack of wild pups that liked to chase nutria. ’Gators. Trespassers.
The ’gators were best. Lord. That was always fun.
They headed down a well-graded gravel path, toward a pretty big, old house—not a mansion or nothing, but a good-looking stone place with big old roses growing like crazy. Landon smiled. It was a good place. Sister would like it.
Two ladies came out of the house—a tiny, fierce old lady and an of a blonde who was just like his cowboy. Adam looked like his momma for all the world. Well, all the boys did.
“Is this the Cajun, then?” The older lady peered at him. “Reba Taggart.”
He headed over, beaming, and grabbed her hand and kissed it. “You bein’ Adam’s baby sister, then?”
She smacked his shoulder with her free hand, way stronger than she seemed. “Listen to you!”
“No? You sure, ma’am?”
“I am.” She grabbed his arm and headed toward the house. “You meet my daughter-in-law, there?”
“No, ma’am.” He stopped before Adam’s momma. “Landon Gaudet. Pleased to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, hon. How do you feel about King Ranch casserole?”
“I love it.” He didn’t know what the fuck it was, but he’d eaten things when Sister was learning to cook ten years ago that would gag a maggot. He’d eat it and be happy. Adam had mentioned eating it a million times, so it must be okay.
“Well, good. Granny made some today for lunch.” She walked with them, and he lost track of Adam.
Granny’s hand wrapped around his arm and he slowed a bit, letting her keep up.
“You a good cook, Miss Reba?” Landon asked.
“I can be, if I pay attention.” Her laugh was just the best, loud and happy. “I get too much beer in the beans sometimes.”
“Oh, now. There ain’t no such thing as too much beer.”
“No? I like you more and more every minute.” She batted non-existent eyelashes at him, a bit like a mummy from one of them movies.
They laughed together, moving through the big old house, to a huge kitchen with a table like something you’d see at a gather. Long oak planks stretched on forever, with maybe twelve chairs around it. “Look at that!”
“What?” She glanced around the kitchen, worried. “Is there a mouse?”
“No. That’s the neatest table I ever seen.” He grinned. Lord, he could see the guys as little boys, just sitting there.
“Oh, we’ve had it forever. In fact, it was a hand-me-down when I got married.” She winked at him. “I bet a Cajun family like yours has some old stuff.”
“Me and Sister live in the house my folks have been in since the pirates were in the Crescent City.”
“Oh, my.” She nodded. “I got cousins in Port A like that. She’s a nutter.’
“Gotta love folks that come from pirates, lady.”
“Yes!”
“Y’all gonna get dishes out or just jaw?” Adam’s momma grinned at them when they both stared at her, hands on her hips.
“Point me and shoot me, ma’am. I can work.”
“Plates are in that cabinet there.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed six plates from the old pie safe, and set the table. Granny handed him the silverware, and soon it was as if he’d been there his whole life. Granny and Momma Taggart chatted at him and had him moving chairs and shit, easy as you please.
The triplets stood there, staring like he’d grown another head.
“What?” He blinked at Adam.
“Nothin’, I’ve just never seen Granny take to anyone like that.”
“I told you. Folks like me.” Folks, dogs, horses. Maybe they liked him because he liked them.
“So do I.” Adam winked. “You’re fine.”
He bowed playfully, laughing. For folks with money, they sure were decent. The only one who didn’t seem to be completely sure of him was Brian, who was frowning a lot. Then again, maybe that healing foot hurt some.
He ended up sitting between Reba and Adam, the casserole cheesy and rich and good. He ate hearty, feeling like he’d been running for miles on empty. Nervous energy did that to him.
The triplets barely talked, but Reba chattered on, and it was easy to ramble back. Their momma joined in every so often, offering a dry, funny comment. He liked both the ladies a lot.
He helped clean off the table, clearing plates as Reba told him story after story of the triplets when they were little. “So there was little Adam, hanging from the hayloft, his little shirt ripping bit by bit…”
“Oh, Lord. Tell me somebody caught you, cher.”
“I landed on Brian and Chris. They had a blanket, like we’d all seen in cartoons.”
He winced, but laughed anyway, because he could see it. Hell, he and Laurel had jumped out of a tree once, expecting to fly. For a second, he thought it had worked, too.
The sound of his ankle snapping had come as quite a shock.
“You want some pie, son?” Momma Taggart asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” He crossed his fingers for apple.
His wish came true when Granny plonked down apple pie and ice cream. If Laurel was here, he’d believe this was heaven.
He stared at it. Oh, man. Look at that crust.
“Well, go ahead, honey. Cut it for me?” She waved gnarled hands at him. “I’m not good at getting them even.”
“You want me to cut it in six or eight?”
“Six’ll do. That way I can make cherry tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Chris moaned, almost like a kid. “Cherry.”
Landon chuckled and nodded, carefully cutting the pie. He made six slices that pretty much matched and plated them up while Adam dished up ice cream. Yum.
It was strange and normal, all at once—like living in a TV show.
He’d only ever seen a family like this in movies and such.
His and Laurel’s folks had died so early on.
He’d never had such a normal family thing like this, like in the old fifties things.
He couldn’t wait to tell Laurel. She’d clap her hands and declare it too much, tell him he was joshing her.
“You okay, Landon?” Adam nudged him, gently.
“Oui, cher. Just thinking that Sister would love this.”
“Would she?” Adam grinned and put ice cream on Landon’s slice of pie. “She like pie?”
“She does. She don’t make them much, ’cause of the heat. Crusts wilt. She likes a bread pudding.”
“Mmm. I like that with a bourbon sauce.” Adam’s eyes were all lit up.
Chrissy snorted. “You like all the desserts, old man.”
Landon didn’t say, but he knew. He’d fed Adam cake and hard candies, whipped cream from a can and a hundred doughnuts. The treats never seemed to have any effect on Adam’s waistline—the man worked hard enough to absorb it all, but that sweet tooth always came out.
He glanced up at Adam, who stared back. Someone knew what he was thinking on. Adam grinned, winking, and Landon’s cheeks heated right up. Gracious, now was no time for all that. Not in front of Granny.
He dug into his dessert, his ears burning.
Granny Taggart just grinned at him like a fool, nodding like she approved. Adam’s family defied all logic.
Of course, he could cope with that. He came from the land of rougaroos and feufollet. If there were werewolves and fairy lights, then there had to be Ozzie and Harriet families. Right?
Right.
Maybe in Baton Rouge.
Adam stood at the fence, leaning on it, watching Landon put Jilly through her paces. He’d had to fight to get Landon to use a saddle, but the mare needed to get back into the habit.
It was maddening, how the horses treated Landon like he was one of the herd.
Adam bet that the mares would give the little fuck milk if he asked.
The image made him snort. Lord. Still, Jilly was behaving, barely side-prancing, and when Chris rode her, she rolled her eyes and bucked, trying to get him off.
“It’s unnatural, bro.” Brian appeared beside him, like smoke.
Adam jumped. “Damn, I didn’t hear you at all. I know, right? He’s got it going on.”
“Yep. He’s something else, sorta like someone raised by wolves, but with horses. All nature boy.”
Adam snorted. “He does speak, you know.”
“Uh-huh, but is it English?” Bri winked at him.
Yeah. Landon wasn’t the most…educated kid ever. Still, he knew shit, and Adam liked having him around. “Nah. It’s pidgin. But I get it.”
“Rock on. Is he fixin’ to stand on the saddle?”
Adam jerked his gaze back to Landon, his mouth dropping open.