We reach the hedges that add to the privacy around their ranch-style house, and my stomach grumbles loudly again.
Alder and Flint both chuckle behind me. Yep, behind me. They stayed back there the entire walk. I can’t help but feel a bit smug about that. This skirt and boots combo must be workin’ even better than I thought.
As soon as we walk through the front door, I frown at all the lights that are still on. Normally at this time of night, everythin’ is dark and quiet.
But tonight, this house is neither of those things.
Loud clangs are comin’ down the hall, and my mama’s voice can be heard clear as day.
“What the hell…?” I ask, but the guys look just as surprised as me.
The three of us walk down the hallway, but the guys run into my back when I stop, hands on either side of the doorframe, as I look inside the kitchen.
“Mama, what in the world are you doin’?” I ask incredulously.
The once clear and clean modern kitchen is now overrun. Mama is standin’ between the island and the chef-sized stove, her eyes watchin’ over the four imps that are clearly operatin’ under her direction.
“Oh, HB, you’re home,” Mama says with a smile. Her bright red hair is even frizzier than usual, which is probably from the steam comin’ from the stovetop where all six burners are currently goin’.
I step inside the kitchen, my eyes bouncin’ from place to place. Every inch of countertop space is covered in ingredients and kitchen utensils.
“You keep on stirrin’ those grits,” Mama orders one of the imps, who looks like he has toothpicks for hair, while she checks one of the other pots and nods approvingly before closin’ the lid. “And those chicken legs ain’t gonna dredge themselves. Don’t be shy with the buttermilk and flour. We want that fried chicken nice and crispy,” she tells the imp with four noses.
I watch as the imp starts slatherin’ the chicken in the mixture before poppin’ them in a fryer. I didn’t even know Flint and Alder had a fryer. Then again, they probably didn’t. Mama clearly has influenced this kitchen more than I realized.
“You need to cut more potatoes than that. Can’t be potato salad if it ain’t got any potatoes in it,” she tells the shorter imp who’s currently standin’ on a stool at the island, while another one is busy hunched over what looks to be a pie mixture.
“Mama.”
She finally deigns to look up longer than two seconds. “What?” she asks, wipin’ her hands on her bright yellow apron.
“It’s two in the mornin’. What are you doin’ up?”
“Well, these poor things tried to serve us cold cuts for dinner, Medley,” she says, as if that’s reason enough why she’s completely taken over the kitchen and is barkin’ orders at the imps like a drill sergeant. It smells divine in here, but that’s beside the point.
I rub a hand down my face. “Mama, you can’t just take over their kitchen or boss around the imps. They serve Flint and Alder.”
“They don’t know how to cook a proper Southern meal,” she argues.
“What’s this?” Alder says, walkin’ over to the end of the island and pointin’ to a covered pot.
“Chicken and dumplin’s,” Mama answers proudly. “By the time I’m done, these four will know how to whip up a proper meal, mark my words. You two are growin’ boys. Need to feed all those muscles you’re sportin’,” she says, and Alder grins at her while Flint shoots her a wink that makes her blush.
“Swat my hind on a melon rind,” I mumble with a shake of my head. “Mama, I think it’s time to call it a night,” I tell her.
“Oh wow, this is delicious,” Alder suddenly says as he takes a bite, and then Flint is pushin’ his way forward to snag food for himself.
“Hot damn,” he says, his mouth stuffed full. “This is the best cornbread I’ve ever tasted.”
Mama practically preens like a peacock. “Well, thank you. It’s an old family recipe.”
Flint shoves another piece of cornbread in his mouth. “You can take over our kitchen anytime, ma’am. Food like this hasn’t ever been served at the table.”
If there was any doubt before that she liked these demons, Mama’s done for now. A wink and a compliment to her cookin’? I’d be surprised if she doesn’t try to drag me to a bridal shop before the week is through.