7. Nolani #2
Landon laughed and sat beside me on the bleachers. I passed him the sandwich, and he took one bite, closed his eyes, and released a sound far too sensual for breakfast.
I stared.
His eyes opened. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You looking at my mouth.”
“I’m monitoring chewing compliance.”
“With your lips parted?”
I closed them.
His smile went slow and dangerous. “You better stop looking at me like that, Hershey.”
“Or what?”
He leaned close enough that his breath touched my ear. “Or meeting my family might not be the first thing we do when we leave this field.”
Heat went through me so quickly I nearly forgot we were outside. I turned my face toward his. “That sounds like a threat, Coach Brooks.”
“Nah, love. Risk disclosure.”
“Eat your breakfast.”
“As you wish.”
He took another bite without creating enough distance to help me. I tried not to smile and failed.
After a minute, I looked toward the field. “Your family knows I’m coming, right?”
“Mama knows.”
“Only your mama?”
“Daddy knows there’s a woman. Lennox knows ice cream was involved, so his loyalty compromised itself.”
My stomach tightened. “You told them I was coming?”
“I told them a woman I’m serious about was coming.”
I looked at him. “A woman you’re serious about?”
“Yeah.”
“You say things like that too easily.”
“Nah.” Landon reached for my hand and brushed his thumb across my knuckles. “I say them clearly. I don’t bring women to Mama’s house for entertainment, Hershey.”
“I assumed that.”
“Good.”
He bit into his sandwich again like he hadn’t just shifted the entire morning beneath my feet.
I stared at him.
“What?”
“You enjoy destabilizing me.”
“Only when the result’s cute.”
I rolled my eyes, and he smiled before finishing the sandwich.
“Mama did ask me to thank you for that butter pecan.”
“Enough pecans?”
“She said the ice cream honored her humanity.”
I laughed hard enough to lean against him. “That is going on the website.”
“Use her full name. She expects attribution.”
“I knew I liked her.”
“You ain’t met her yet.”
“The standards speak for themselves.”
Once he finished breakfast, Landon gathered the wrappers and held out his hand. “Ready?”
My fingers moved to the pendant at my throat before I could stop them. “For your family?”
His eyes dropped briefly to my hand, then returned to me. He didn’t pull my fingers away or turn the movement into a conversation. He simply took my other hand.
“You don’t have to be nervous with me, baby.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Aight.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You could at least pretend to believe me.”
“I respect evidence.”
“Shut up.”
His laughter followed us toward the parking lot. He dropped the trash into a nearby can, tucked the empty coffee carrier into my SUV, then opened the passenger door of his.
I looked between our vehicles. “What about mine?”
“I’ll bring you back.”
“You volunteering to chauffeur me?”
“I’m volunteering to keep you close.”
That grin again.
I got in.
By the time Landon settled behind the wheel, his hand had found my knee. I looked down at it, then at him.
“You need both hands to drive.”
“I got both.”
“One is on me.”
“Exactly. I know where it is.”
“That is not how traffic safety works.”
“It’s how inventory works.”
I laughed as he pulled onto the road, his thumb moving lazily against my skin.
Self Springs passed around us while he pointed out pieces of himself.
The high school he attended. The field where he first played organized football.
A diner his father had taken him and Lennox to after Friday-night games. I listened.
Mostly.
His hand made geography difficult.
When he turned into a residential neighborhood lined with wide porches and mature trees, my stomach tightened again. A two-story brick home with cream trim appeared ahead.
“That’s home.”
My fingers found the pendant.
Landon noticed. Of course, he noticed. This time, he covered my hand with his.
“You don’t have to be nervous with me, baby.”
“I’m not.” His eyebrow lifted. “Maybe a little.”
“Better.”
“Don’t gloat.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re thinking about it.”
“Absolutely.”
I laughed despite myself, then looked toward the house. “What if they don’t like me?”
“They will.”
“That confidence is suspicious.”
“It’s informed.” Landon turned toward me, his hand still wrapped around mine. “And if they need five minutes longer than I expect, that’s their business. I already know why you’re here.”
Something inside me eased. Not because he promised everybody would adore me, but because he wasn’t asking me to earn the invitation.
I squeezed his fingers. “Okay.”
Landon lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles. “You good?”
“Better.”
“Come on, Hershey.”
The front door opened before Landon reached it.
A beautiful older woman stood on the other side in a soft-blue lounge set with a silk scarf tied over her hair.
Treatment had left fatigue beneath her eyes, but nothing about her expression suggested illness had interfered with her ability to be nosy.
Her attention traveled from Landon to our joined hands, then settled on me.
“So this is the woman responsible for the only butter pecan I’ve ever considered hiding from my own family.”
My nerves disappeared under laughter.
Landon squeezed my hand. “Mama, this is Nolani.”
“I know who she is. Come in here, baby. That ice cream respected me.”
“I’m putting that on the website.”
“You better use my full name. I don’t endorse products anonymously.”
Landon looked at me. “Told you.”
“I thought you were exaggerating.”
His mother opened the door wider. “He does. Regularly.”
“I do not.”
“You’ve barely crossed the threshold and already lying in my house.”
I liked her immediately.
The house felt lived in without feeling cluttered.
Polished wood, family photographs, fresh flowers, and the smell of something savory from the kitchen filled the space with familiarity.
Pictures of Landon and a younger boy covered years of football, school, holidays, and graduations.
One photograph stopped me. Teenage Landon.
Longer locs. Long limbs. Entirely too confident for a sixteen-year-old.
He followed my attention. “Don’t.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“Your face drafting commentary.”
“I was only observing how early arrogance entered your developmental process.”
Mama Brooks laughed. “He came here convinced.”
Landon placed one hand at my back. “Hereditary self-assurance.”
“Delusion with family support.”
His mouth lowered near my ear. “Keep talking reckless in my childhood home, Hershey.”
My stomach tightened. “Or what?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“You seem committed to future explanations.”
“I believe in thorough communication.”
Mama Brooks looked over her shoulder just in time to catch my smile. She said nothing, which somehow made it worse.
A tall man rose from the recliner near the window. Landon’s steadiness lived in him too, though silver ran through his beard.
“Daddy, this is Nolani.”
He extended his hand. “Warren. Welcome.”
“Thank you for having me.”
Before I could say more, a younger voice came from the adjoining room. “He been cleaning since eight this morning. So technically, thank you for coming. The baseboards finally got attention.”
A young man appeared, carrying something red in a wineglass. Landon sighed.
“Lennox.”
“What? I’m honoring labor.”
Landon caught the back of his neck and guided him toward me. “This mouth with legs is my brother.”
Lennox freed himself and extended his hand. “I’m the charming one.”
“You drinking fruit punch from a wine glass,” Landon said with disgust.
“It improves the experience.”
I shook his hand. “I respect the commitment to presentation.”
He pointed at me. “See? She understands culture.”
Landon reclaimed my hand. “Don’t encourage him.”
Lennox looked down at our fingers. “You holding her hand like y’all announcing an engagement.”
My pulse noticed.
Landon did not release me.
“You finished?”
“Not remotely.”
“Find something productive to do.”
“I am studying human behavior.”
“You majoring in business.”
“People are business.”
“Leave before I restructure your face.”
Lennox laughed and backed toward the kitchen. “Nice meeting you, Nolani. Blink twice if he holding you hostage.”
Landon looked at me. “Don’t.”
I blinked twice.
Warren coughed over a laugh. Mama Brooks didn’t bother hiding hers. She laughed until one hand moved to her side, and Landon’s attention changed immediately.
“You good?”
“I laughed, Landon. I didn’t collapse.”
He checked the water beside her, took the glass to the kitchen, and returned with it full before she could argue. No fuss. No announcement. Just Landon. Something about watching him care for his mother made me understand his hands better.
He came back to me and settled one at my waist. “You hungry?”
“You just ate.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I could eat.”
“Good. Daddy made crab-stuffed salmon, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, and biscuits.”
Warren shook his head. “Your mother criticized a meal she didn’t cook.”
“I protected everybody from bland food.”
“You told me my crab filling lacked courage.”
“It did.”
I looked at Landon. “Does everybody in this family evaluate food like it submitted an application?”
“Nah. They just aggressive about seasoning.”
Mama Brooks looked at me. “He brought home a woman who makes ice cream from scratch. Clearly, he understands us.”
Landon’s hand moved along my waist as he guided me toward the dining room. “Come sit, Hershey.”
He pulled my chair out, waited until I sat, then took the seat directly beside me despite an empty chair across the table. His thigh rested against mine beneath the tablecloth.
I looked at him. “You had another option.”
“I chose this one.”
“Predictable.”
“And effective.”
Unfortunately, he had evidence.
Landon reached for the serving platter and filled my plate with salmon, potatoes, green beans, and a biscuit. I looked at the biscuit, then at him.
“You assumed I wanted that.”
“I watched you eat at dinner.”
“That was a week ago.”
“And?”
“Normal people forget incidental details.”
“Normal sounds inefficient.”