Ah! Had he heard that? Oh my lord.
“For you, my dear,” Grandma Thompson said as she handed Daniel an icy glass of Kentucky porch tea.
“I’ve been waiting for this all year.” He looked at the floating ice cubes melting beneath a setting sun and drank the entire thing in one go.
“Calm down!” Brandy said. “This stuff is strong.”
He coughed. “Oh, man. It sure is.”
“I’ll get you another, baby,” Grandma Thompson said and kissed his cheek before pouring another glass. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home for six years, young man. You were supposed to come back after grad school, not run off to New York. Don’t you leave again.”
Being away must’ve killed him. He might not have been close to his parents growing up and in college, but he had the most amazing relationship with his grandparents.
“Why’d you stay in New York for so long?” I asked, making small talk, if for no other reason than to appear unaffected by him.
“Why do you think?” he mumbled, giving me a look so cross that it gutted me, and went back to eating.
As I watched him, wondering if I was truly the only reason, he squared his shoulders. His face hardened and his entire body went rigid.
“You stayed away from those appetizers?” Grandpa Thompson asked. “I brought some real food. Right here.” He added another fillet to Daniel’s plate beside a serving of cranberry and almond salad, and I swore Daniel had heart-eye emojis pop out of his head.
He took another sip, leaned toward me, and said quietly, “Listen. You don’t have to stay.”
I gulped down a bite of salad. Was he trying to tell me to leave? “Okay.” I spoke up and announced, “I should really get going.”
“But you haven’t had pie,” Grandma Thompson said as she plopped down a giant piece of…oh my word, was that buttermilk pie? Now who had heart-eye emojis popping out of their face?
“You made buttermilk pie?” I swooned.
“Isn’t this your favorite?” Daniel asked.
I nodded. But why was she making my favorite pie for Daniel’s homecoming dinner?
There were other pies on the table, too, and Daniel was going in for the kill, uncuffing his shirtsleeves and folding them up partway.
It was impossible not to stare at those wide, brawny forearms—like forearm porn. Why was he doing this to me? I had the mighty need to fan myself. Must’ve been the bourbon. Had to be the bourbon.
Grandma Thompson pushed a plate toward me. “Don’t worry, baby girl. You have your own pie to take home.”
“Really?” I squeaked.
Daniel muttered, “Thought I was the favorite one?”
Grandma Thompson gave that heartfelt, musical laugh of hers. “Next time, I expect you to make me a pie, Daniel. I know I’ve taught you how to cook.”
“That’s the truth,” Daniel countered. “I would love to make you all the pies from now on.”
“And cobbler,” she added.
“And cobbler, Grandma.”
I savored another bite of buttermilk pie and recalled how every time I’d seen Daniel with his grandparents, he was cooking with them. Baking, marinating, grilling, smoking, sautéing. No wonder he cooked like a chef. He’d learned from the best.
“Going to make some young woman very happy,” Grandpa Thompson added.
Daniel stiffened, glancing at me with his head lowered, and poked at his slice of pie. “Let’s not go there, please.”
My stomach sank. Yeah, some woman would enjoy the food that Daniel made with his own hands, and then enjoy those hands all over her body.
I tried to focus on the soft, delicate sweetness of the pie, but it turned a bit sour in my stomach at the thought of Daniel’s future wife.
“You know who doesn’t love pies, though?” Brandy cocked her head toward the house. “Can you trust a woman who doesn’t like pies?”
Grandma Thompson clucked her tongue. “Bless her heart.”
“Grandma!” Brandy snickered.
Grandma Thompson swatted the air. “Hush, now.”
To the left, Alisha emerged from the house in fluid motion between businessmen, chatting, laughing, drawing a small crowd, which didn’t go unnoticed by Grandpa Thompson. “She’s quite the woman, that one. No fear. Look at how she wraps those vultures around her finger,” he said with a hint of admiration.
Grandma Thompson, on the other hand, responded, “I thought this party was for Daniel, not another reason to talk about work. What she should be doing is sitting over here and eating. Or at least sitting near the man of the hour.”
“I don’t mind,” Daniel mumbled, casting a glance at me from the corner of his eye.
“Now, why can’t y’all get back together?” Grandpa Thompson asked, looking from me to Daniel.
I froze midbite.
Daniel had gone motionless, too.
Brandy smirked from across the table and Jackson just watched the entire exchange with that goofy grin. “Awkward” was an understatement. So was “setup.”
“Let’s not go there,” Daniel said in an even tone.
“Whatever made you two split, anyway? Can’t y’all work it out?” Grandma Thompson prodded.
I stuffed the rest of the bite into my mouth and almost choked, much like Daniel, who had a coughing fit before he downed half a glass of tea, blushing as hard as I probably was.
“You sitting here, welcoming Daniel home, enjoying our company, appreciating my food? And where is Alisha, huh? Talking business over there. You know priorities,” she said to me.
Daniel interjected, “Now’s not really the time or the place, Grandma.”
She plopped some more salad onto his plate as he protested, “I can’t eat much more. But I can’t stop, either!”
She laughed. “I already set aside enough leftovers for a week. Where are you staying, by the way?”
“Don’t worry, Grandma,” Brandy promised. “I found him a nice temporary place closer to north Houston.” Oh? So Brandy had set him up with Liya’s apartment. That made more sense than Daniel directly asking Liya for a place, seeing as Liya and Brandy were still friends and kept in touch.
“That’s so far. Why not stay here? Or at our place? Or at Brandy’s? Honey, did you offer your extra room to your brother?”
“Of course! He wants some privacy, I guess,” she said, but shot a subtle glance at me.
“You mean you need some privacy,” Daniel retorted, contorting his face.
I finished my pie before Grandpa Thompson could circle back to why Daniel and I hadn’t worked out, and insisted, “I should really get going. I have a busy day tomorrow, starting early.”
“Okay,” Grandma Thompson relinquished, and then asked Brandy to grab my bag of food.
When Brandy returned a few minutes later, handing me a generous amount of goodies secured in a cloth bag, she gave me a sly smile. I wasn’t sure if that look was aimed at the food that would last for days or at my predicament with Daniel. I gave all the thanks and praise and was almost home free when Grandpa Thompson nudged Daniel. He pushed his seat back and stood, watching me with those intense, soulful brown eyes.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said.