Chapter 21 Coco
Coco
When Stone enters the kitchen, all conversations stop. Nu-Nu speaks first. “Coco, introduce me to this handsome young man.”
It was just a few nights ago when he wooed all the ladies at book club, and the same thing will probably happen here. “Everyone, this is Stone. Stone, these are my aunts: Margie, Michelle, Susan, and Whitney.”
Whitney winks at him. “There’ll be a test later. Don’t forget.”
He chuckles, but it sounds tense. “I’ll try not to.”
And that’s it. No mention of food. No wondering if someone made strawberry pretzel salad and if he can just sneak a corner, no one will notice, he’ll cover it with whipped cream.
None of that.
Something’s wrong.
Margie steps forward. “Is that a lambicorn?”
Stone’s eyebrows lift. “His name’s Hercules. Would you like to pet him?”
“Abso-freaking-lutely.”
As my aunts surround him, oohing and aahing, Stone puts Hercules on the floor and crosses over to me. I take him by the sleeve. “I want you to meet my grandmother, Annabelle. Nu-Nu, this is Stone Maddox.”
She peers at him with stars in her eyes. “Aren’t you a strapping young man? Say, you like gumbo?”
The look of surprise on Stone’s face is priceless, like she’s snapped him out of whatever funk he’s been in. “I . . . Of course.”
“I don’t make it much anymore, but for you, I’ll cook one up. I’ll even put extra chicken feet in it.”
I bite my bottom lip. No doubt the last thing Stone expected to hear was that there will be chicken feet in his gumbo, but that is my grandmother—full of surprises.
“Thank you,” he says, his tone softening. “Extra chicken feet sounds great.”
Nu-Nu folds her arms over her stomach and grins with satisfaction.
He turns to me. “Hey, I was coming to see if you wanted to do some shooting.”
I pull the apron over my head. “Are they asking if I’ll join them? Is Brittany?”
“No, I just thought you might want to.”
He says it a bit darkly, and to be honest, I’m not sure if I want to go, but since shooting is a lot of fun, I peg the apron.
“I’m heading outside,” I tell my mom.
“But you hate shooting.”
“Well, I’ll be back.”
And then Stone escorts me outside to shoot.
Target practice goes great. I hit pretty close to the bull’s-eye (not right on, but close enough for me). My sister doesn’t say anything, and my dad congratulates me, saying that the young man I brought is also a great shot. He even did better than Brittany.
She must be burning up. No one does better than her—at anything.
Two hours later, we sit outside with my family, digging into roasted pig that’s been dug up from underground.
My potato salad and lots of other dishes my aunts created grace the two long tables that are smooshed together just for this occasion.
Hercules has a bowl next to Stone, who brought some goat’s milk so the little fella wouldn’t be hungry.
“What do you think of your first pig roasted in the ground?” Dad asks Stone.
Stone takes a bite and moans. “If I’ve died, this must be heaven.”
Everyone laughs.
“I tried filming one of these get-togethers a few years back,” Brittany boasts. “But the aunts got mad when I put them on camera.”
“You didn’t tell us we were going to be on,” Susan grumps. “I hadn’t done my makeup.”
“She wasn’t the only one who hadn’t contoured,” Margie adds. “If you want us to be in one of your little videos, you’ve got to give us time to put our faces on. Like today. I’m ready for hide-and-seek.”
“Little videos,” Jet says with a snicker. “Brittany’s little videos get tens of thousands of views in hours.”
“That reminds me,” Mom says. “Co, how’s your job going? Is that where you two met?” She points her fork at Stone and me. “In the licensing department?”
Stone’s head snaps in my mom’s direction. “Coco doesn’t work in licenses.”
A low hush falls over the table. My aunts and uncles, cousins and grandmother, lean in to hear more.
My mom blinks. “What do you mean, she doesn’t work at licenses? Of course she does. Don’t you, Coco?” Before I can answer, she keeps going. “Why would Stone think you don’t? You haven’t lied to him, have you? I thought I raised you—”
Stone’s fist hits the table—not loud, but sharp enough to freeze every fork in midair.
There’s something in his voice, fierce and raw, that knocks the air from my lungs.
Not just protectiveness. Not just anger.
Something older. Like this hit a nerve that isn’t just about me.
As if, for a second, my mother’s words cracked something open in him, too.
“Coco is the new magical land use coordinator in the Department of Zoning and Development. That’s her job. She doesn’t work in licenses.”
Mom swallows audibly and puts her fork down. Her gaze darts from Stone to me, and she says in a lightly accusatory voice, “Why didn’t you tell us? We would have celebrated your new job.”
The silence is deadly now. All ears, all eyes are zeroed in on the conversation going down over a roasted pig and some root veggies.
My eyes zip around the table and clock Brittany, who’s waiting with amped-up interest to hear my answer.
My dad merely looks confused. My aunts also have looks of curiosity smeared across their faces, and all of them are probably wondering why didn’t I say anything.
Why didn’t I tell my family I’d started a brand-new position?
How could I be such a terrible daughter?
All the focus, all the intensity, makes me want to curl into my roly-poly shell and disappear.
“Well, I just . . .”
Forgot, I was going to say. I forgot. My bad. Sorry. Everyone stop looking at me and put all your attention on Brittany, because that’s what you want to do anyway.
But before any of that can slip past my lips, something happens.
A warm hand glides over my lower back and settles there as if that’s where it lives. My gaze falls to Stone’s arm, which has disappeared behind me.
He holds me like a comforting touchstone, pressing into me lightly, firmly, telling me—with no words, just a feeling—that it’s okay to be seen.
Even when all I want to do is vanish.
I clear my throat. “Well, to be honest, I thought I did mention it, but you must’ve forgotten. I started this week.”
My mom’s face falls. My stomach twists because I know she feels bad now, and because of it, I feel awful. It seems disrespectful.
The desire to once again retreat zips through me.
Stone rubs my back, his hand slowly circling. Heat races through my body, zapping me right in my lady parts. My mouth goes dry, and I venture a glance at him.
He’s looking at me. Inches away. His jade eyes project warmth and confidence, silently saying, It’s okay. You’re not trying to hurt her. You’re standing up for yourself.
My insides become molten. That tingling in my girlie region winds its way back up and tightens in my core. Everything inside me wants to collapse onto Stone.
His salty and sun-warm scent that is distinctly him wraps around me. His lips look soft but firm, and his silky hair is just begging for me to wind my fingers around it.
His eyes fall to my lips and my nipples harden. I’m suddenly aware of how close we are, how easily he could lean in—how much I want him to.
Is it polite to make out in front of family?
“Coco?” Mom says loudly, snapping me back.
I drag my gaze from him and focus it on her. “Yes?”
“Well, how is your new job? Do you like it?”
“Yeah. It’s been challenging, but it’s a lot of fun.” I sneak a look at Stone because he is the reason why I’m saying both of those things, and one corner of his mouth ticks up in way that makes butterflies lift from the launchpad of my stomach.
“Well, that’s wonderful. I’m sorry I forgot,” Mom confesses slowly, like praise is something she gives away in coupons and I just cashed mine in for the month.
A tiny bit of pride blooms in me, but a shadow falls at the same time.
It hurts on so many levels.
Brittany clears her throat. I’m not sure if she’s pissed that the attention is off her or if she’s being sincere when she says, “It’s time, y’all. Who wants to play Hide from Brittany?”