Chapter 14 #2
The adults played it cool—casual waves, polite smiles, the collective performance of people pretending my wife wasn’t the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen.
The youngers, not so much. Bronco’s eyes flew open like seeing Jules for the first time had caused puberty to kick in, full force.
Jane vibrated in place like an over-caffeinated golden retriever.
Belle looked one gasp away from sprouting actual starbursts in her pupils.
And Maddie pressed her hands together like she was thanking God for admitting her to the promised land.
“Hi everyone. This is Juliette.” I gestured to my family. “Jules, this is everyone.”
Immediately, we were bombarded with welcomes.
“Hi, guys!”
“Hey, Griff. Hello, Juliette!”
“‘Sup.”
“Mercy, she might be prettier than me.” That was Aunt Peyton.
“Not possible, but a close second,” Funcle Ford replied.
“Hey, shugga,” Gramps said, voice warm. “Welcome to the family.”
Jules squeezed my arm like she’d just been crowned queen of England. “He called me shugga already.”
“Told you.” I grinned.
Juliette beamed. “I’m so happy to meet you all.”
“Girl,” Christy said. “Here in the South, it’s not you all, it’s y’all.”
Aunt Tally, the grammar Nazi of the family, shook her head disapprovingly. “Oh, Chris, no.”
“Don’t act like you haven’t said it, Tal,” Christy teased. “I heard you last week.”
Tally hid behind her hands, chagrined. “This family has seared it into my subconscious. Sometimes it just slips out.”
“Let me try that again.” Juliette laughed. “I’m so happy to meet y’all.” She said it in a flawless Seddledowne accent—light on the twang, heavy on the charm.
“Nice.” I squeezed her sides.
Granny, who’d been taking Jules in, finally smiled. “Hi, Juliette. We’re so happy you’re here.”
Ford swore, looking mad enough to hit something.
Ashton smirked and held out his hand. “Told you she wouldn’t care,” he said to Ford, who was standing next to him.
“For real, Mom?” Ford’s nostrils flared, looking genuinely affronted. He dug into his back pocket, swearing again.
“Quit cussing!” Granny and Peyton said in stereo.
“Fine,” he bit out, pulling out his wallet. “This is some grade-A horse—” he stopped. “Horse crap. That’s what this is.” He slapped a hundred into Ashton’s palm.
Ashton preened, grinning victoriously.
“Ford!” Granny said. “Duprees do not place bets.”
Ford threw his hands out like I give up.
“Hate to break it to you, Mom,” Holden said, “but we place bets on everything. From who can shoot the most skeet to who will tell a ‘back in our day’ story first—you or Dad.”
“Seriously?” Bowen asked. “How can we get in on that?” He gestured to himself, our cousins, and me.
“Bowen, Bowen, Bowen,” Ashton said. “This is a highly competitive emotional ecosystem we have going on here. You all lack the necessary ruthlessness.”
Ford groaned at that. Then his shoulders heaved with an exaggerated sob.
“That’s what you get for making that stupid bet,” Peyton grumbled. “FYI—there will be no hippity dippity until it grows out.”
Juliette snickered. Hippity dippity was her new favorite phrase, and she found a way to work it into every conversation.
Ford swore for real then. “No. I will explode if I have to wait that long.”
Peyton’s head bobbed with attitude. “Shoulda thought about that when you set up the stakes. I’m sorry, Ford, but I can’t be intimate with a literal clown.”
Ashton and Holden were laughing so hard they couldn’t talk.
Gramps smiled, amused. “Would someone like to expound on this bet? What exactly were the stakes?”
Tally rolled her eyes, fighting back a laugh. “Ashton bet Ford that Granny wouldn’t care that Griffin eloped. Ford was confident she would.”
Granny scoffed, looking horrified. “You bet on me?”
“Of course, I was confident,” Ford talked over her.
“Do you think I would’ve risked this otherwise?
” He tugged at his hair so hard that it looked like he was about to tear it from his scalp.
Other than his guitar, Ford’s hair was his most prized possession.
He was probably as famous for those curls as he was for his voice.
“So now, since Ford is the loser—” Peyton formed an L with her pointer finger and thumb “—he has to shave his hair into a mohawk and dye it all the colors of the rainbow.”
There was a beat of silence as I was sure, like me, everyone pictured Ford, shirtless in bed, hovering over Peyton with complete confidence—except now he looked less like one of America’s favorite sex symbols and more like a deeply committed Troll doll.
In the very next beat, the room erupted in chortles, laughs, and outright guffaws.
“And he can’t shave it off for a month,” Holden said.
“Oh, dang.” Bowen doubled over. “Uncle Ford, what were you thinking?”
“He wasn’t,” Peyton said, verging on furious. Okay, maybe Ford’s hair was her most prized possession.
“No more betting,” Granny said, expression stern.
“And definitely no more betting where I’m involved.
If y’all are dead set on earning yourselves a one-way ticket to the eternal bonfire, that’s between you and the Lord, but you are not taking me with you.
” She leveled each of them in turn—Holden, then Ashton, then Ford. “You were raised better than that.”
“Seriously?” Ford said to Granny. “Your sons make a harmless bet—just brothers being brothers—and you act like we’re a disgrace to the Dupree name—” He jabbed a finger at me, “—but Griff goes rogue, grabbing himself a wife the same way you make a quick stop at Food Lion for a gallon of milk, and you welcome him home like he’s a war hero.
” He glanced at Juliette and me. “No offense.”
“None taken,” we said in unison, biting back grins.
Ford picked right back up. “Should we break out the box of yellow ribbons for him too? Maybe throw him a gala and invite the whole town?”
Juliette was barely holding it together, both hands pressed over her mouth as she fought for air.
“First of all.” Granny patted Willow lightly on the back.
“Griffin isn’t my responsibility. He’s Lemon and Silas’s.
I just get to spoil him. That’s what grandmas do.
” She leveled Ford with a look. “Second, it’s done.
They’re married. What good would it do to be upset now?
And third, I’m too tired to clutch my pearls over how y’all run your lives.
You know why?” She didn’t wait for a response.
“Because I raised a son who came home tatted up like a spray-painted overpass, drunk enough to pickle himself, rotating women like seasonal décor, nearly put himself in the grave that one time, and he managed to knock up a stranger during a one-night stand.”
Peyton exhaled through her nose, but said nothing.
Granny waved her free hand. “So Griffin eloping in Las Vegas? Is amateur hour. No cap.” She flicked her wrist. “Did I use it right?” she whispered to Bowen.
He nodded. “You ate and left no crumbs.” They shared a fist bump.
Maggie giggled and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Wow.” Ford’s jaw pulsed. “You may be too old to clutch your pearls, but you’ve got a steel-trap for a brain.”
“Oh, honey.” Granny’s eyes turned fierce. “I will remind you of every gray hair you put on my head till the day you lay me in my grave.” She blew him a kiss. “And then I’ll turn around and tell you how much I love you and how proud I am of the man you’ve become.”
Ford grunted.
Peyton kissed his cheek. “I’m proud of you, too. And I like your tattoos. I like ‘em a lot.”
He growled and pulled Peyton against him. She melted, unbothered by their audience—the two of them putting on a show that bordered on indecent.
“But will you still like his tattoos when he looks like a My Little Pony figurine?” Holden deadpanned.
Ford’s only response was to slide his hand down and squeeze Peyton’s butt.
Jules gasped, bouncing on her toes. “You weren’t lying. We’ve been here less than twenty minutes, and I’ve already witnessed a butt-grab, first-hand.”
“It’s all part of being a Dupree,” I said. Then, for kicks, I let my hand drop and gave her a squeeze myself.
She shrieked and fell against me, laughing. Truthfully, she hadn’t stopped laughing since we walked in. Her eyes were luminous, her smile unguarded, and she seemed to glow from the inside out, like after a lifetime of searching, she’d finally found where she belonged.
Cash and Charlie stumbled through the front door, looking a touch love-drunk.
Charlie blushed. “Sorry we’re late.”
“M’hmm.” Aunt Tally checked her watch. “By almost twenty minutes. And you left church early.”
Ford smirked. “The question is, why’d you leave church early, and why are you late?”
Peyton jammed an elbow into his side. “You know they’re trying for a baby,” she whispered way too loudly.
Ashton held his hands up, stopping any further discussion on the matter. “Nope. A father doesn’t want to hear about his daughter doing taxes with her husband.”
Cash rubbed the back of his neck and stared at absolutely nothing.
Charlie tipped her head back and laughed, her hair falling behind her in loose waves the color of polished mahogany.
Juliette leaned toward my ear. “Oh, she’s lovely, isn’t—”
But just then, Charlie noticed us, squealed, and tackled her in a hug. “Oh, my gosh, hi. I’m Charlie.”
“Hi.” Jules squeezed her tight. “I’m Juliette.”
After a few minutes of catching up, I cracked my knuckles and grinned at my wife. “I hope your memory is as good as Granny’s because I’m about to test your who’s who skills.” At her request, during our honeymoon, I’d pumped her full of info about each family member.
“Ready,” Jules said.
I pointed to Aunt Christy. “This is—”