ground beef and gravy mixture.
“Momma! Momma! Momma!”
Even without him saying the words, Sophia knew that the man of the hour had arrived. She pressed a hand to her stomach as butterflies came to life. For all the lectures she’d given herself about not getting excited about Ryker’s visit, apparently, her emotions hadn’t gotten the memo.
“Can I open the door, Momma?”
“Go ahead,” she called back, knowing that he wouldn’t ask to open it if it wasn’t really Ryker.
She took her time stirring the meat mixture, her hand gripping the handle of the wooden spoon at the sound of Ryker’s voice as he greeted Bryson.
“How’re you doing, buddy?”
“I’m good!”
Sophia heard the smack of skin on skin and knew that the two had performed their greeting ritual. Picking up the dish towel that was on the counter, she rubbed her hands on it and walked to the door of the kitchen, knowing that the longer she waited, the weirder it would look.
“Where’s your momma, bud?” Ryker asked as she walked in from the kitchen.
“Right here,” she said. “Sorry. I was just stirring some stuff on the stove.”
“It smells delicious.” He gave her a broad smile, the skin crinkling at the corners of his blue eyes. “How’ve you been?”
“Good.” She twisted the dishtowel in her hands. She’d forgotten how his smile and warm gaze made her feel. Or maybe she’d pushed it out of her mind in an attempt at self-preservation. “How about you?”
“Busy, but good. Lots of people wanting help with their gardens and landscaping.”
“And then you have to come over here and do more work.”
Ryker shook his head. “There’s no have to about it. I’m here because I want to be.”
“Surely you have somewhere you’d rather be.”
“Not really. No birthday parties tonight, and when my family gets together, it’s usually on Sundays.”
“Same with mine. Big Sunday dinner after church.”
“Loud,” Bryson said as he reached up to grab her hand, forcing her to release the dish towel. “They’re too loud.”
“They certainly are that,” Sophia agreed.
“My sister is loud,” Ryker said. “The loudest of everyone.”
“Does she be quiet if you ask?” Bryson asked.
“Nope. She doesn’t listen to me.”
“They don’t listen to Momma either.” Bryson leaned his head against her hand.
“Well, as long as you always listen to her,” Ryker said. “That’s most important.”
“I do listen to her.”
“Good boy.” Ryker flashed him a smile. “Are you going to come help me outside today?”
Bryson’s hand tightened on hers as he looked up at her. “I…I…”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Ryker said. “I’m going to mow the grass, so it would be loud anyway.”
“I’ll watch you from the window.”
“Sounds good.”
“You’re welcome to join us for supper afterward, if you have the time.” Sophia knew she shouldn’t be prolonging their contact with him, but she felt like she owed him something for the work he was doing for her.
“It smells so good, I think I will.”
“Just come back inside when you’re done,” she told him.
“Will do.” He smiled down at Bryson. “See you in a bit.”
Once he had gone back out the door, Bryson took up a position at the window. Sophia returned to the kitchen, going straight to the stove to stir the food. But she couldn’t help but glance out the window to watch Ryker pull the lawnmower out of the shed.
It was great to see Bryson smiling so broadly, but would he keep smiling when he had to wait another week before seeing Ryker again?
With a sigh, she turned her attention to the food, draining the potatoes so that she could mash them. After they were done, she transferred the meat into the round dish she planned to bake it in then topped it with the potatoes. Once it was in the oven, she turned her attention to the biscuits she’d made using the recipe Nana had taught her all those years ago.
The meal was ready before Ryker had finished, but letting the food sit for a bit wasn’t a big deal. Not that she really had any choice since Bryson had no interest in eating until Ryker came in.
“Let me just wash up, buddy,” Ryker said when he finally came through the front door.
Bryson came into the kitchen and climbed up on his chair to wait. Since the shepherd’s pie would still be hot for Bryson, Sophia lifted some out of the dish onto his plate to cool.
“Can I have a biscuit, Momma?” he asked as he gripped the edge of the table.
“Yep.” She put one on his plate then poured him