Mama Louise beams and nods. “Best have a seat then, or these boys won’t leave you any food.” She scans the table, her eyebrow rising. “Mark, I know you’re not planning on eating all those potatoes yourself, are you?”
In reply, he lifts one blonde brow and forks a whole baby red into his mouth in one go, chewing open-mouthed from the oversized bite.
Mama Louise sighs like the long-suffering mother she is to us all.
We get settled, me in my usual place and Willow between me and Cooper. Technically, he’s Allyson’s son and Brutal’s stepson, but he’s been adopted by us all.
Cooper stage-whispers to Willow, “Make sure you get enough roast and veggies so that you get dessert. Plum cobbler tonight.” His face screws up. “On second thought, don’t. Because then I’ll get your serving of cobbler too.”
“Cooper!” Allyson barks, horrified.
But he and Willow are giggling like they shared a secret. Willow reaches for the carrots and spoons a few onto her plate, then with a smirk at Cooper, she adds a couple more in a clear ‘challenge accepted’ sort of way. He sighs, rolling his eyes in a pretty decent imitation of Shay. Right off the bat, she’s charmed Cooper too.
We get down to eating without much talking. We work hard all day, mostly outside, and need the calories, plus it’s delicious. But once the voids in our bellies are satisfied, conversation starts to flow.
“How’re you liking working at Hank’s, dear?” Mama Louise asks Willow.
She swallows a bite of thick toast slathered in butter and dabs at her mouth before answering. It looks like manners, but I can see that she’s putting off answering. She doesn’t like the spotlight on her, and every pair of eyes has turned her way, interested in the newcomer to the dinner table, especially since she’s by my side.
“It’s good,” she says safely. “I’ve been a bartender off and on since I was eighteen, but even I was surprised by how busy a Thursday two-dollar draft night could be. And that had nothing on live music Saturday night.” She looks at me, and I can’t help but place my hand on her thigh under the table. She about jumps a foot and squirms beneath my palm.
My sweet Willow is shy, I think. And maybe nervous in front of my whole crew. She has nothing to be concerned about, though. We’re about as rough as they come, and Katelyn’s basically doing us all a solid by sitting in her own chair and not Mark’s lap. Mama Louise doesn’t allow that at her dinner table, but beyond that, it’s all good and no one would bat an eye at my hand being on her leg.
I shrug modestly. “We’ll see how busy it is next weekend when I play again. I always figure it’s going to be a show for one, just me and Hank in the place, and I’m shocked anybody else shows up to listen.”
Brody coughs, muttering under his breath, “Bullshit.”
Mama Louise isn’t fooled by that fake cough, though. “Language.”
Willow laughs, and I feel her relax now that no one’s paying her direct attention. Well, no one besides me. I can’t help but be focused on her every move, every nuanced flash of emotion across her face as I measure every inch of space between us.
“It’s such a beautiful night. Let’s take our plum cobbler out back,” Mama Louise suggests.
Allyson and Cooper hop up to clear the table, and we all hand them our plates. The rest of us help put up the few bits of leftovers, wipe down the wood table until it shines, and dish up the cobbler into bowls.
Out back, the sun has fully set and the moon is rising high, bright and white against the indigo sky pricked with sprinkles of stars. We make our way to the circle of congregated wood chairs and stools that Brutal and Cooper have built over the past few months and settle in to eat.
“Mmm,” Willow moans when she eats her first bite of cobbler with melted homemade vanilla ice cream. My own spoon freezes halfway to my mouth, wanting to hear that sound again . . . without everyone else around. Willow must feel my gaze on her because she blinks and looks my way sheepishly. “What? It’s good,” she whispers.
“It is.” My agreement isn’t about the plum cobbler at all.
Shayanne jumps in, “This? This ain’t nothing, just a quickie cobbler. Jam plus fruit plus biscuits plus sugar butter. It cooked up while