“Thanks for the visual, sweetie,” I said, patting his sumo topknot.
“Buckets,” Harley said again.
Wade grinned and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I caught the slightest frown flitting across Marge’s features, but she was graceful enough to school her face into a neutral expression. “Thanks for the sumo save,” Wade said. “I have a lot of skills, but sewing my kid into a fat suit isn’t one of them.”
“It’s a limited area of expertise,” I said, kissing him back.
“Mamaw, are you going to come with us for milkshakes?” Danny asked. “You can have Mom’s burger, since she won’t eat it.”
Marge threw me an uncomfortable glance. “Oh, well, I’m sure your parents didn’t plan on me—”
“Actually, we’d really love it if you came with us,” I told her. “Danny’s told Harley all about you.”
“I have questions,” Harley told her.
“Well, that’s very sweet of you. In that case, I accept,” Marge said, taking both boys’ hands.
“Danny, I can’t remember a more riveting rendition of a Lionel Ritchie song.” I turned to find Max and Finn standing behind us. Max was grinning full-bore and held out his hand for a big high five from his grandson. Finn was smiling but somehow also staring Wade down, as if he was calculating the best way to get rid of his body without tipping off the Council. And while Wade’s grip around my waist tightened slightly, his expression didn’t change.
This was awkward.
“Er, Wade Tucker, this is my sire, Finn Palmeroy. Finn, this is Wade. And my, uh, Danny’s grandmother, Marge Stratton. Marge, this is Finn Palmeroy and my father, uh, Max Kitteridge.”
“Your father?” Marge exclaimed. “I didn’t know you knew who your—” She stopped herself and cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you’d met your father, Libby.”
“Charmed,” Max said, raising her hand gently and kissing her knuckles. I lifted an eyebrow at the gesture and prayed Max was just trying to be polite. But he winked at her, so . . . that was not making me comfortable.
“Yeah, isn’t it cool, Mamaw?” Danny chirped. “I have a vampire mom and a vampire grandpa.”
“Well, that certainly explains why you’re so young,” Marge said.
“Age is just a number, Marge,” Max said smoothly. “Or could I call you Marjorie? You don’t strike me as a Marge.”
Marge tittered. I’d never heard someone titter, but she did it, brushing her fingers through her hair. And Max, well, he didn’t look insincere in the admiring stare he was giving her. I glanced back and forth between the two of them with growing alarm while Finn and Wade seemed to be locked in a death-grip handshake-athon.
“Yes, I’ve heard so much about you,” Finn purred, his knuckles tightening around Wade’s.
“Really?” Wade asked through gritted teeth. “Because Libby hasn’t mentioned you all that much.”
And yet more awkward.
And it was always going to be this way, because I’d chosen Wade. Finn was always going to be a little bit tense, but he would have to adjust. And Wade . . . well, Wade seemed to be holding his own, because based on his descriptions of some of his crazy redneck relatives, I could see how Finn wouldn’t seem so threatening. I cleared my throat and caught Finn’s eye, giving their clenched hands a pointed look. He huffed, but he loosened his grip on Wade’s hand. Wade tried—quite manfully—to cover up the fact that he was wringing the blood back into his fingers.
“Well, boys, I don’t think I’ve ever seen better theater,” Finn said, dropping to the boys’ level to give them both high fives. “Moving and heartfelt.”
Danny hooted. “You’re so weird, Mr. Finn.”
“Says the guy wearing a matador costume in western Kentucky,” Finn said, tickling Danny’s sides. Danny giggled while Harley retreated to Wade’s side.
“And you still have a bad-guy beard, so there,” Danny squealed.
I smiled at Finn and Max, who was still giving Marge what I can only describe as middle-aged vampire Blue Steel. “We’re going to the Coffee Spot for milkshakes and burgers. The diner also happens to stock Faux Type O. Would you like to join us?”
“Yes,” Max said immediately.
Finn nodded. “I would enjoy that.”
And Marge was staring at Max. Hard.
Oh, boy.
“OK, we’ll meet you there,” I told Marge. “Could you get us a table? A big table? It’s going to take us a while to load the sumo into my van.”