Chapter 6
Chapter Six
NONA
Iwas a jittery mess. My nerves were shot and my hands were shaky, but I was doing my absolute best not to let any of that show as I put the finishing touches on dinner.
“Mom, you need help with something?”
I turned from the stove and looked over my shoulder at Blythe. “Yeah, thanks, honey pie. Would you mind setting the table? Everything’s there.” I tipped my chin toward the corner of the island.
She moved to where I’d stacked everything and stopped dead. “When did we get cloth napkins?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, pulling the asparagus off the grill plate on my stove top and arranging them on a platter. “We’ve always had those.”
“I don’t remember ever using ’em. And aren’t these your fancy dishes you won’t let me or Tris eat off of?”
My cheeks burned at being caught going overboard—again—by my teenage daughter. “Just set the table, would you?”
Damn Trick and his inexplicable tendency for making me act crazy simply by existing.
I knew I was being ridiculous, using my best china and cloth napkins.
The reason we never used them was because I didn’t need another thing to wash, but when I thought about Trick and his kids sitting at my table, I got it in my head that I needed to do it up.
Blythe tossed a cheeky smirk my way, grabbed the dishes, and scampered off to the dining room to do as told while I finished getting everything else ready.
I’d decided on my smothered pork chops because they were always a hit, and I could put them in the Crock-Pot before I headed off to the salon this morning.
There was also the added bonus that the recipe fed at least eight, and with one grown man and two growing boys with bottomless pits for stomachs sitting at my table this evening, it was sure to be enough.
I took the time to grill the asparagus, making sure the grill marks were picture perfect.
I skipped over the boil-and-serve rice, choosing instead to pull out my big, pain-in-the-ass rice cooker.
And I’d even gone so far as to make a big salad in my barely used wooden salad bowl with matching wooden utensils.
In spite of the three quarters of that massive chocolate cake that was still sitting beneath the glass dome of my cake stand, I’d busted out my baking skills to create a whole new dessert from scratch.
I went with a known crowd pleaser, my homemade chocolate silk pie, hoping it would impress Shawn and Hannah.
The doorbell rang just as I set the last platter in the center of the table, and my heart rate kicked up into dangerous territory.
“Got it!” Tris hollered. A second later, I heard his feet patter against the floor and caught his blurred figure as he ran to the front door like a mini-tornado.
God, I was such a mess.
Friends, Nona. You’re. Just. Friends, I scolded silently as I tried to get a hold of myself.
Slapping on what I hoped was a perfectly normal smile, I stepped out of the dining area and joined the fray just inside my front door. “Hey, guys. Hope everyone’s hungry.” I could have patted myself on the back for sounding so normal, but I refrained.
Trick’s head came up, his eyes hitting me dead center, and I felt the warmth in them like a blast of pleasant summer air.
Pushing the way that look made me feel toward the back of my mind, I glanced to Hannah and Shawn.
I never got used to how much they looked like their father.
Both of them had their father’s sandy brown hair, but Hannah’s had beautiful natural auburn streaks slashed through her mane.
Hannah had her mother’s brown eyes that looked beautiful with her soft, delicate features.
But Shawn’s were the same gunmetal as his father’s.
“Now, before you whine like my kids are sure to do, I’m just gonna warn you now, there’s asparagus on the table in there.
But as a reward for eating at least four stalks, the dessert I made is all chocolatey goodness. We have a deal?”
Hannah lips tilted in a soft grin. “Yeah, Ms. Nona.”
Shawn’s reaction was a lot more like what I’d expected. His eyes bugged, his mouth contorted, and his tongue stuck out in a classic yuck face. “How chocolatey are we talkin’ here?”
“Shawn,” Trick said in reprimand, but I let out a laugh in reply.
“Chocolate silk pie. I made the crust with crushed up Oreos, and the whipped cream is homemade by yours truly.”
“Dude.” Tris grinned in excitement at his friend. “Mom’s chocolate silk pie is freaking awesome. You totally won’t mind the asparagus. Trust me.”
“He’s right,” Blythe added. “It’s the best. But she makes her veggies in a way you don’t mind eating them, anyway, with loads of parmesan cheese.”
Man, I loved my kids!
“Yeah, okay,” Shawn replied, sounding a lot less dire. “I can handle that.”
“The table’s set. Drinks are in the kitchen. You guys help yourselves.”
The boys turned and bolted like they were on fire, with Hannah and Blythe following at a more sedate pace. But instead of moving into the kitchen, Trick headed for me, stopping only a few inches away.
“Didn’t want to show empty-handed,” he said, extending the arm holding a bottle of wine. “Hope it’s okay.”
“Oh... well, thank you. But you didn’t have to.
” I took the wine from him and looked down at the label, my belly doing a little whoosh.
Most of the time someone brought a bottle of red, it was either a cabernet or Malbec or pinot.
Any of those would have worked, but my preference was red blends, and the bottle I was currently staring at was a red blend I’d spied almost every time I went to the grocery store.
It was a top shelf bottle, about three rows above the ones I usually got for no more than twenty bucks a pop, so I knew exactly how much this one cost, and I’d been dying to try it.
“Wow, Trick. You shouldn’t have.”
“Did I get the right kind? I don’t know much about wine, but I remember you mentioning something to Eden about liking blends.”
I looked up at him, my lips parted in surprise. That conversation had happened months ago when we all gathered at Eden and Lincoln’s cabin for a housewarming party, and it had only been mentioned in casual passing. I couldn’t believe he paid attention, let alone remembered.
He was killing me. Sexy, funny, sweet, outstanding in bed, and now this. If I hadn’t already thought it a million times a day, it was moves like this that solidified the fact that Emma Wanderly was a raging idiot.
“It is,” I said in a quiet voice, looking up and getting lost in those stormy grays. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
I suddenly felt trapped in his gaze, and if the intensity rolling off him hadn’t put me in a fog, I could have sworn I saw him lean in a little closer.
The longer we stared at each other like that, the further he sucked me in until I was at risk of doing something incredibly stupid.
Like closing the last bit of distance and standing on my tiptoes so I could kiss those full, soft lips.
“Whoa! Dad! Come check out this cake!”
Just like that, the spell was broken, and I quickly stepped back, clearing my throat and trying to shake off the headiness that was weighing me down. “I’m gonna pop the cork on this. You want a glass? Or I have beer if you’d prefer that.”
I saw something flit across his face that I thought might have been disappointment, but he cleared his expression before I could get a better read on it. I gave my head a shake and told myself it was nothing more that wishful thinking on my part.
“Beer’s good,” he answered in that soothing baritone as he followed me into the kitchen.
The kids’ attention shot from the cake to me.
“Ms. Nona, did you make this all by yourself?”
“Sure did, honey,” I answered Hannah as I grabbed Trick a beer from the fridge.
“Dad, come look at this,” Shawn crowed. “It looks like somethin’ on those bakin’ shows!”
Moving back toward the island, I watched with a flush coating my cheeks as Trick joined his kids, placing his hands on Hannah’s shoulders as he leaned past her. The three Wanderleys looked at the cake like it was a work of art.
“Damn, sweetheart,” Trick breathed, lifting his head so he could see me. “You seriously did this all yourself?”
If they were impressed with that, they would have swooned days ago, before the thing had been chomped on by me and my kiddos. But even with a hunk of it missing, it was still pretty.
“Mom’s like the best baker in the whole world,” Tristan announced with no small amount of pride, causing my chest to swell.
“We call it stress baking,” Blythe announced unnecessarily. “That’s usually when something’s really bugging her and she goes all out.”
Trick stood tall at her proclamation, his forehead puckering in a serious frown. I could read him well enough to know he wanted to ask what had been bothering me enough to make a freaking wedding cake, but no way in hell was I letting that happen.
“If I eat two helpings of vegetables, can I have a slice of pie and cake?” Shawn asked, his mouth practically watering as he leaned in close to the cake stand.
“Think that’s up to your dad, bud.” I giggled.
He looked up at his dad with those matching eyes. “Can I? Keep in mind, I’m a growin’ boy, Dad.”
Trick’s rich, husky chuckle rumbled through his chest as he mussed his son’s hair. “If it’s cool with Nona, it’s cool with me.”
“I want both too!” Tris added.
“Same deal for you, kid,” I said. “Two helpings of veggies.” He nodded determinedly. “All right, now how about we eat before it gets cold, yeah?”