[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"I am." He squeezed her, kissed her cheek. "Happy
Thanksgiving. Thank you for breakfast. It's so good to see
you. We hit weather in Georgia, and I thought we'd never
make it in."
80
Tropical Depression
by BA Tortuga
It had been fun, though. Driving with Galen and Goob.
They'd taken their time, goofed off, laughed, sang Christmas
songs, eaten weird random crap. He'd loved every minute.
"Well, I'm glad you did. Without y'all to ease the craziness
of all of these weird folks, I might go crazy." She set him up
at the sink, tying an apron around his waist. Goob started
biting at the strings right off. "So you're not missing anything
with your folks?"
"My folks?" He blinked, shrugging a little. "Oh, Lord, no.
They never did Thanksgiving and uh ... Well ... They don't
talk to me anymore. Haven't in ten years."
"Oh." She gave him this look. This sort of squinty-eyed,
lips pressed together look, and for a minute he thought she
was mad at him. Then she said, "Well, they just don't know
what they're missing. It's a good thing you got us now, isn't
it, honey? Got family to be with."
"It is." He grabbed a plate, started scrubbing away. Well,
of course it was good. Galen and Momma were his family
now, just like he was one of theirs. "Everything smells good.
Did you make pecan pie? Galen's been talking about it ever
since we left home."
"I did. And pumpkin and chocolate pie, too. I know you like
the chocolate." Someone he didn't know appeared at his
other elbow, grabbing the plate and drying it.
"Hey, there." He nodded over, kept scrubbing. "Oh.
Chocolate pie is the best. Do you need anything from us? Like
for groceries or anything?"
"No, honey." Her hip bumped his as she reached for a bag
of apples. It was homey. Like when he and Len cooked and
81
Tropical Depression
by BA Tortuga
cleaned together, only with less groping and kissing and all.
Uh. Yeah. "If y'all want to go buy a bill of groceries after
everyone else leaves, we'll talk on it then."
"Okay." That was really sort of Len's thing anyway. He
struggled hard enough at the club making numbers match up.
His money he just handed over. Well, after Galen found out it
was all in a tin can and he'd never even had a checking
account, anyway.
Goober barked and Momma tossed him a piece of sausage,
making the silly mutt wag and wag. It was all so normal, so
nothing like anything he'd ever had, that it made him blink.
"Are you all right, honey?" Momma asked.
"Yeah. Yeah. It's just ... You know how you see something
on the TV and you think it's made up and suddenly it's not
and you get a second of missing out on all the years you
thought it was a lie and it wasn't?"
"Oh." She sniffed, her eyes a little shiny. "Oh, honey."
Momma gave him another hug, standing there with her arms
looped around him.
"Oh. Oh, I didn't mean to..." He panicked a little, patting.
"I'm okay. It's okay."
Where the hell was Galen?
"It's okay, honey. I just." She sniffed some more. "Well,"
she said, letting go. "Those dishes are piling up."
He nodded, smiling at her, plunging his arms back into the
dishwater, glad for something to do. "What's your favorite
Christmas song?"
"I like 'O Holy Night.' Did you know that Galen's is 'O Little
Town of Bethlehem'?"
82
Tropical Depression
by BA Tortuga
Shane chuckled, nodded. "He does a pretty good 'Go Tell It
On the Mountain,' too."
In fact, that was one of his favorite things, Galen singing
at the top of his lungs, a little tipsy, ass draped with tinsel.
Not a Momma-appropriate memory, but a favorite,
nonetheless.
"He does. I should drag y'all to church on Sunday and
make him sing." She looked so happy at the thought.
"Oh, I don't think so," came Galen's voice from the
doorway.
Shane grinned over, beaming at the peace in those dark
eyes. Galen looked happy, settled. "I like 'We Three Kings'
best. You could do that one."
"I'd just sing about that rubber cigar and Momma would
hurt me."
The guy next to him drying dishes hooted, and Momma
laughed right out loud.
"Now that we could sell tickets to." He winked over,
started washing mixing bowls.
"Yeah, yeah. Watch it or I'll take a dishtowel to your butt."
There was no heat in it, and Galen moved right in beside him,
saying, "I'll take over, Cousin Hal. Thanks for all your help."
Oh, now this was nice. Easy. Good-smelling. Man, Galen
looked good in black like better-than-average good.
Something about the whole sleeves rolled up to dry dishes,
muscles flexing in the forearms was just the perfect look for
his Len. It wasn't until Galen nudged him that he realized he
was just standing there, staring. And Momma was laughing
still, moving around him, peeling this and popping more
83
Tropical Depression
by BA Tortuga
dishes in the sink. She did know how he needed Galen, she
really did. She seemed to like him all the more for it.
Which was good, because if it pissed her off? They'd be
fucked.
Not only that, he wouldn't have Goob.
"So what time is supper, Momma?" Galen asked, bumping
hips with him in a totally different way than Momma had.
"Not until late, as we have to wait on Aunt Louise. About
three. Why don't you boys go play? And by that I mean
football or something," she added, eyes twinkling. He
grinned, felt his cheeks go a little hot. Somehow he thought
their brand of tackling might be a little ... graphic and naked
for Momma.
"Oh, I bet we could get Dale and Don out for a quick touch
game." Grabbing his arm, Galen started pulling him out of the
kitchen. "When she lets us out of dishes, we go. 'Kay?"
"Okay..." He grinned, following along, shaking his head.
"Who all's coming for supper? Lunch? Whatever?"
"Oh, I don't know. Sounds like most all of the local cousins
and all. Maybe forty or so people." Well, Galen sounded like
that was normal. Nothing to panic over. Nope. Damn. And
also sort of wow.
"Cool. You got a lot of family."
"Well, Momma does. I just sort of tag along." He got a
wink, a pat on the ass before Galen was waving at the two
tall ones. "Y'all wanna play some football?"
"Hell, yeah. Come on, man. Let's go." Shane chuckled as
one of them hooted, bounced up. "Skins or shirts?"
84
Tropical Depression
by BA Tortuga
They bundled him outside, arguing over something or
other, and before he knew it there were six more burly guys
out there with them, all sorting into two teams. Luckily Galen
claimed him for his team.
He leaned over, whispered into Galen's ear. "Man, we need
to be shirts, yeah? I got my rings."
Somehow he thought that would be sorta bad, not to
mention hard as fuck to explain.
"Yeah, okay." He got that look. That one. With the holes-
in-a-blanket eyes. Ka-ching. He definitely needed his shirt
now. "No, Dale. I call shirts, I told you. I'm the one drove
from the Keys."
That was right. Hell, Galen looked at him like that again,
he'd need to untuck his shirt to hide what was peeking.
"You just don't want us all to be stunned by your hairy-
assed chest, Frosty." Man, that Dale guy best watch himself.
Galen tackled hard.
"Nope. Just don't want to scare you with my muscles."
Flexing, Galen grinned, grabbing the ball. "We won the toss.
Come on."
He got the ball, bent over, Galen's hands right there near
his ass, waiting for the ball. Man. Man, football was a sexy
fucking game.
Galen called the play, giving him his, "Hike!" Then he got
to rumble a little with Galen's cousins and oh ... oh, he
couldn't remember ever seeing Galen look like that.
The game got a little more intense, each play feeling a
little hotter, a little more focused. Goddamn. Just. Goddamn.
85
Tropical Depression
by BA Tortuga
Watching Galen take down Dale ... Dan ... Don.
Something. Watching that smooth leap and tackle? Wow. Hot.
Hot, hot, hot.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]