Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Is the dining room table set?” Dr. Drew asked as he walked into the kitchen.
I straightened from leaning against the sink. “You done?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. And if Maeme gets up here and that table isn’t set, you’re all getting an earful. Thatcher, take off the damn hat. You know she’s gonna be mad if she sees it on in the house.”
Everyone got into motion. I turned and grabbed the plates. Storm opened the fridge and got out the gallon pitcher of sweet tea. When I headed to the dining room, Thatcher had taken off his hat and was getting the flatware from the drawer, and Wells was carrying the pot of chicken and dumplings.
“I’ll get the collards,” Doc D said, heading to the stove.
We all made at least two trips, getting the rest of the supplies for the meal. I checked the oven and found the cornbread warming in the cast iron skillet and a casserole dish full of mac and cheese.
“I got the cornbread. Someone grab the mac,” I called out and headed back to the dining room.
When I stepped inside, I paused at the sight of Rumor standing there with her damp curls and clean face. Goddamn, the bruising was much worse than I’d assumed. Her swollen, cracked lip looked as if it had some medication on it now. Those sea-green eyes of hers met mine, and she looked almost relieved. As if seeing me was something she needed. Damn, that wasn’t a good thing, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.
Off-limits. For a list of reasons a mile long.
“You ready for those dumplings I told you about?” I asked her while setting the cornbread on the table.
She dropped her gaze, and I saw her eyes widen at the spread. It had been a couple of hours since we’d shared the pizza, and I was starving. I wasn’t so sure about Rumor though. She didn’t look like she ate much.
“All right, boys,” Maeme said, getting everyone’s attention as they made their way back to the dining room. All eyes were on my tiny grandmother, who stood with her hands on her hips. “I expect your best behavior.”
She turned to Rumor then. “This here is Storm,” she told her, waving a hand in his direction. “Then, we have Thatcher.” She paused and looked back at Rumor. “He’s got a dark soul, but he’s still a good boy.” Which was a damn lie. Thatcher was a fucked-up son of a bitch. “You know King.” She gave me a pointed look like she had some things to say to me in private. “That there is Wells.”
Her steely gaze met each of ours. “Boys, this is Rumor. She’s gonna be staying with me for a while. I expect her to be treated like family.”
Everyone nodded and said their, “Yes, ma’am,” but my focus was on Rumor, who looked like her anxiety was on the rise again.
When her eyes met mine, I gave her a reassuring smile before taking a seat. Maeme had her hands full. I hoped she realized it. The look in those pretty green eyes said she was planning on running. Not that she’d get far, but it was going to be a full-time job, watching her until she calmed her ass down.
“Storm Kingston,” Maeme called as he reached for the skillet of cornbread. “I know you ain’t reaching for something before the blessing is said.”
He pulled his hand back. “No, ma’am.”
She nodded, then gave us all a pointed look that meant we’d better bow our heads while she blessed the food regardless that Thatcher had killed a man today, then shot another; I’d lied my ass off to convince a woman to get in my truck; and Storm had held a knife to a man’s throat to get information from him, then made the man piss himself. Sure, if there was a Lord, he really cared about us thanking him for the food we were about to eat. Made complete sense. Not that anyone would point that out to Maeme.
When she said, “Amen,” we all fell in line and repeated it before hands shot out and grabbed at the different offerings filling the table.
Pausing with the pot of dumplings in my hand since I’d been sure to set them directly in front of me, I glanced over at Rumor. She seemed to have paled as she watched us all, wide-eyed. I really fucking hated the bruise on her face. It made me want to hurt someone.
Standing up, I walked over to her, carrying the dumplings. She followed me with her eyes until I came to stand behind her.
“You gotta have some of this,” I told her, taking the first spoonful and placing it on her plate. “Eat up.”
She tilted her head back to look up at me. “Thanks.”