Real Sexy (Real Dirty Duet #2)(33)

"No need to call ahead. This is my boy's home. He's welcome anytime, day or night, and so are you. Can I get you a beer?"

"Sure. That'd be great."

Boone shoots me a smile, and I wonder if that was the right answer.

"Ma, we finally made it inside!"

"You think I don't know that? My favorite grandson already found me and told me no one would miss my dinner while it was hot."

Boone's mom steps out of the kitchen. Now that I see her up close, I recognize those same brilliant blue eyes that Boone, Grant, and Kyle all have, although it appears hers have faded some with age. Her hair is a blond chin-length bob, as opposed to Boone's dark hair, which must have come from his dad, although now Mr. Thrasher's is now more salt and pepper.

Stepping inside their house is like walking into the life I wished I could have had as a kid. A cozy couch and love seat situated in front of a fireplace, which has a flat-screen TV mounted over it. I can picture stockings hanging from the mantel at Christmas, with a plate of milk and cookies for Santa nearby, waiting for him to come down the chimney.

The rug is worn, but the flowers depicted on it still hold their color. The tables look like antiques and match the grandfather clock on the other side of the fireplace. The living room opens into a dining room, and the big table is set with enough plates for the whole family-and me.

Mr. Thrasher disappears into the kitchen and returns with three beers for us, and a Sprite that he hands to Wendy with a kiss to her cheek. "You look beautiful, girl. Make sure my boy keeps you smiling like that."

From the way Wendy's lips curve, I'm sure this isn't the first time Mr. Thrasher has said something to that effect.

Kyle comes running out of the kitchen with a red Kool-Aid mustache. "Lala says the veggies aren't done yet. Five more minutes. I'm gonna help finish setting the table."



       
         
       
        

Mr. Thrasher hands out the bottles to the rest of us and ruffles the boy's hair before Kyle darts off again.

Everything about this house and the people in it screams family. Something I haven't had in a really long time, or maybe ever.

"Thank you, sir."

Mr. Thrasher smiles at me as I take a long draw of my beer. "So, Ripley Fischer, tell us about yourself. How'd you meet my son?"

I swallow and fight the urge to bite my lip. I'm sure hearing that I'm a bartender and I met Boone when he came into my bar isn't going to win them over. A worse thought occurs to me. What if they think I'm some kind of gold digger?

Boone answers for me. "Ripley's been running her family's bar, and doing a damn good job of it too. I was lucky enough to meet her when Zane Frisco dragged me there one night. I keep forgetting that I need to thank him for that." His arm slips around my waist and his hand squeezes my hip.

Mr. Thrasher's eyebrows go up. "Running a bar can't be an easy business."

"It's definitely a challenge," I reply. "It was in my family for over thirty years, and unfortunately recently closed."

"So, what you're saying is you don't have a job?"

This comes from Boone's brother, and no one in the room can miss the skepticism in his tone. At least I have an answer to my question. He definitely thinks I'm a gold digger.

"I have a job. I'm bartending at the White Horse Saloon while I work out exactly what I'm going to do next. It's been a long time since I've considered the possibility of doing something other than working in a bar. I've been carrying cases of liquor since I was Kyle's age."

Wendy jabs Grant in the side again, and I highly doubt he and I are going to be friends. I can't blame him, though. He's just looking out for his little brother.

"Wow, that sounds like an interesting way to grow up," Wendy says to cover the awkwardness of the moment.

"I had the boys working around the shop when they were growing up too. And let me tell you, Boone here is lucky he survived with all his fingers, for as much as I had to holler at him for messing with stuff."

We're saved from any more awkward small talk when Boone's mom walks out of the kitchen and into the dining room with a steaming casserole dish.

"Come on, y'all. I'm not letting my scalloped potatoes get cold for anyone."

Kyle follows her with a basket covered in a towel and sets it on the table.

"I'll get the ham, Susie-Q." Boone's dad heads for the dining room to set down his beer before disappearing into the kitchen. 

"Is there anything we can help with?" I ask Boone.

"Ma would whip my ass if I let you lift a finger this time. You're a guest. You'll have to wait until next time to lend a hand. She's got rules."