Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The moment Jolene’s front door swung open, a lanky boy barreled into Hannah and latched on.
“What in the Sam Hill are you doing?” Jolene squawked. “Have you lived in that Scottish city so long you forgot you can just walk right in?”
“With your shotgun?” Hannah joked.
“You came back!” Dylan cried out in a voice clearly changing with adolescence.
“It’s good to see you too, Dylan Prentice,” she told him as she gazed at the rest of his family looking on.
Jolene stood in the doorway with her two other boys, grinning from ear to ear.
She wore a belt buckle that said All Sass along with a five-dollar smile and her usual jeans, cowboy boots, and a dark red Western shirt with fringe pockets over her ample bosom.
The boys had on similar Western wear and seemed to have shot up another few inches since she’d last visited.
Including the baby of the group squeezing her with all his adolescent might.
“Well, don’t maul her like a bobcat, Dylan Prentice,” Jolene clucked, shoving her straight strawberry blond hair over her shoulder. “Show Hannah you haven’t lost all your manners since she left.”
Hannah didn’t much care about manners with this sweet boy hugging her fiercely. God, she’d missed these boys. “He’s too cute to be a bobcat,” she pronounced, ruffling the dark blond hair Dylan shared with the rest of his brothers.
“Too puny for sure, and he’s never had any manners,” Ford grumbled, grabbing the back of his brother’s shirt and pulling. “My turn.”
Dylan squeezed Hannah one more time before letting go and punching his brother lightly in the arm. “Dipstick.”
That was when she noticed the goose egg on his forehead. “My goodness! What happened to you?”
“He ran into a baseball mitt, but he got the home run at least,” Ford reported, wrapping her in a big hug.
“Dylan, I’ll put some salve on it to help the swelling.” Hannah planted a big kiss on Ford’s cheek. “Hey, sweetie!”
“Ugh!” He yanked back and swiped the spot. “That does it. I now declare a thumb war.”
When he held out his hand, she clasped it—and pinned his thumb pretty fast. “You’re rusty as a nail.”
He puffed up like a rooster. “Hannah, I’m fifteen. Thumb wars aren’t exactly on my mind these days.”
“Betty Hardcastle is,” Dylan announced as Luke pushed Ford out of the way and hugged her.
“Shut it,” Ford yelled at Dylan.
Jolene shouted, “Enough.”
She chuckled into Luke’s shoulder. “Just like old times.”
“Yeah.” He sniffed her hair. “Lavender. You always smelled good. It’s great to have you back.”
“Happy to be here.” Even after the train wreck welcome next door. “Do I get to hug your mother now?”
“Nah,” Ford muttered, dancing in front of Jolene. “She’d rather slap the back of your head than hug you.”
“That’s because I’m living in testosterone hell,” Jolene remarked with her usual candor, moving Luke aside and then catching her in a bear hug.
“Got a salve to help that, I’m buying. Hannah, you remember how it used to be.
Add jacked-up teenage-boy hormones. Every day, I wrestle with the moral dilemma many animals face. Is today the day I eat my own young?”
“Mom!” Dylan cried out. “That’s awful!”
“You’d never do that,” Ford added with a grimace. “Would ya?”
“I can see it.” Luke only agreed with his version of an evil grin. “Some days I want to dump you two idiots out in the countryside and leave you to the bears and wolves.”
“Do not,” Dylan shot back, shoving him.
Jolene cleared her throat. Loudly. “We haven’t been properly introduced to Hannah’s dear friend and work husband.”
“What’s a work husband?” Dylan asked.
“The best kind of husband, if you ask me.” Jolene shot her a naughty wink. “He’s someone you work with that you can trust who helps you be all you can be while making money.”
“Sounds like the slogan for the Army,” Ford muttered. “So you’re the giant Scottish dude who wears a kilt in the videos with Hannah?”
Neil finally stepped forward after giving Hannah her due. “I am. Good to meet you all. I’m Neil Drummond.”
“Nice to finally meet you.” Jolene stuck out her hand. “These here yo-yos are my boys. In order. Luke, sixteen; Ford, fifteen; and my baby, Dylan, fourteen.”
“Mom, I hate it when you call me that,” Dylan protested, making a gagging sound.
“Better than Frankenstein right now.” Jolene kissed his injury softly. “My boy won the game, but he paid a high price.”
“I was the town hero, Hannah.” Dylan beamed. “We beat Hastings.”
“Way to go,” she said, digging into her purse for her plantain salve. “Stand still, Dylan.”
He rolled his eyes as she gently applied the salve. “You’re making me as greasy as pepperoni pizza.”
“Greasy, maybe, but effective.” She finished the job and handed Jolene the tin. “Neil plays sports that result in plenty of injuries, and he can attest firsthand about how well this works.”
Neil gave a wry nod. “Frankenstein is never a good look, and yes, it works miracles.”
“What do you play, Mr. Drummond?” Ford asked.
“Please call me Neil,” he said, “and pretty much anything, but most especially rugby, football—that’s soccer to you—and an assortment of games from the part of Scotland my mother’s family is from.”
“I’d pick you for my team,” Dylan announced with a grin. “You’d scare the other guys because you’re so massive.”
“All right, the man says you can call him Neil, but not ‘massive.’” Jolene shook her finger at her boys. “And absolutely no pranks.”
Hannah bit her lip to hide her smile. Jolene’s boys were notorious for their pranks. “Does that include me? I still have nightmares about that time you boys built that catapult and sent twenty Western toads into my bedroom through my open window.”
“You were crying like a little girl, ‘Oh my God! Ewwww! Yuck!’” Ford’s imitation of her seriously needed work. “I almost peed my pants laughing.”
Neil was trying hard not to laugh himself. “I used to throw water balloons through my older sister’s window and tell her it had stormed while she was out.”
“So we can prank you?” Dylan asked hopefully.
“You can try, lad,” Neil answered, crossing his arms and managing to look intimidating.
“No, you cannot!” Jolene ordered. “Neil is a guest. Off-limits—or you answer to me.”
Ford snorted as Dylan mumbled under his breath. Luke only grinned. Goodness, he was looking like a young man. They all were, she guessed. “Everyone’s taller than me now.”
Dylan stretched up on his toes. “Yeah, I’m even taller than Mom.”
“My cowboy boots are the only item maintaining the illusion that I’m taller and stronger,” Jolene announced, showing her heel. “I’m enjoying the final days. But yes, they still grow like weeds. They eat like pigs. And they—”
“Drive her absolutely loco,” they all said at once, bursting out laughing.
Hannah shook her head. “Well, that hasn’t changed at least.”
“Never.” Jolene nudged Dylan. “Why don’t you grab our little gift for Hannah?”
He ran off with a whoop.
“We debated a welcome home gift for a couple of days but kept circling back to one.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she protested.
Dylan thundered back and thrust out the gift bag as purple as his goose egg. “Here you go.”
When she looked inside, she did a little dance as she pulled out a bag of Old Man Roy’s Crispy Spuds. Even though her mother had picked up her bag, somehow knowing this family—who divided up every last chip in the bag to share—volunteered their stash had her grinning like a fool.
“You gave me your allotment?” She pressed her hand to her chest dramatically. “That’s love.”
“So much love!” Dylan agreed, hugging her side.
She opened the bag, sniffed, and then brought out one single, perfect chip. Holding it to the light, she made a pleasing sound. Yeah, her appetite was back. “Come to mama.”
The salt and oil hit her first, followed by the crunch of the potato. She hummed as she chewed.
“Observe, boys.” Jolene pointed with a wry grin. “When you eat, you do so with your mouth closed.”
“Are we still working on that?” Hannah joked. “Thank you. Neil, you have to try one.”
“No, you enjoy the first bag, lass.” His shoulders were shaking with amusement, probably because he knew she had another in the car. “Hannah craves these chips like some people crave orange juice.”
“Orange juice?” Dylan scrunched up his face. “Why would anyone crave that?”
Jolene sent her eyes heavenward as Hannah started to munch. “Cravings are individual, my sweet boy.”
“Hannah, can you and Neil stay for Sunday pizza night?” Dylan asked, tugging on her arm. “It’s Father’s Day, which you know always sucks a big one since our dad is such a deadbeat—”
“Dylan,” Jolene warned.
“Fine, I’ll keep my opinions to myself, but what do you call a guy who leaves his wife with three little kids?” Dylan asked glibly.
“An asshole,” Luke offered as Ford nodded along.
“Luke, please try to set a good example for your brother. Boys, you know I don’t agree with your father’s choices, but we don’t hang our dirty laundry out with guests around.”
Jolene peered at each one of them in a way Hannah had seen her do many times over the years when Aaron Prentice’s name came up. Hannah thought asshole was pretty apt for the rodeo cowboy she’d married at eighteen and left her high and dry at twenty-three.
“Mom, we can express our true feelings because Hannah’s family.” Dylan took her hand like he used to when he was a kid. “And if Neil is like her work husband, doesn’t that make him family too, kinda?”
“You bet,” Hannah added before Jolene answered. “You can say anything in front of Neil that you’d say to me.”
“Good,” Luke broke in, his brow knitting. “Because I have a question. Are you going to be staying in Will’s cabin with Hannah like everyone is wondering, or will you be staying in the private loft in the bunkhouse Ben’s cleaned up for you?”
“Luke Prentice!” Jolene swatted the back of his head as Hannah raised her hand to her mouth in shock. “I’m shocked at you.”