“Well, I already met him,” Plum explains to Abby. “We found him on the street. We were so scared because your poor puppy seemed so sad. But then Uncle Bartlett brought him into the shop and I got him this leash and uncle Bart, he let me pick it. What do you think of the color? I chose purple because I thought purple would look really pretty with his fur.”
“I think purple is a lovely color, and thank you for helping with Hijinx,” Abby says with a grin. She takes off her jacket, and my sister Lemon hangs it up on a coat rack for her.
Fig is twirling her hair and showing off pamphlets on France to anyone who will listen. I hear her travel pitch in the background. “It's only four months and it is mostly in Paris. I would be getting the education of a lifetime. And considering I took two years of French already, I'm basically completely prepared.” Fig talks with her hands, her long black hair swinging around her shoulders as she tries to get everyone's attention with her new plan.
I know there's no way in hell my mother's going to let her out of her sight. She's not just Mom's baby. We all see her as ours to protect.
Hijinx is happy, and Abby is holding her own with Lemon and my dad, and I'm listening to Mac tell Graham about the building plans for some country lodge he’s working on over in the Burly Mountains.
“I just don't understand why you would want to clear-cut so many trees,” Graham says adamantly.
“This acreage is prime real estate though!” Mac debates. “The future is now! Uncle Luke agreed with me.” Not wanting to listen to that discussion right now, I wind through the house.
I find Rye in the kitchen. The fridge is open and he's rooting around for a beer. “Want one?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say.
“So who's that girl?”
“You heard how we met?”
“Sure,” he says, eyes narrowing. “But what do you know about her?”
“What do you care? You think she’s gonna steal my wallet?” When Rye doesn’t answer, I snort. “How are you always such a cynic?”
“Uh. Why wouldn't I be?”
“Maybe because the world's not actually out to get us?” I say, rolling my eyes as I pop open the cold one.
Rye takes a slug of his beer. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. The guy is a train wreck.
He needs someone nice in his life, or maybe a dog, a dog like Hijinx. Someone to soften his rough edges. He shakes his head, looking pissed.
“Did I do something to offend you?” I ask with a growing growl.
“I just think it's weird that you brought some girl home to Sunday dinner. We don't even know her.”
“Rye, it's dinner,” I say. “She's new to town. She was held up by a knife earlier this afternoon.”
Rye’s jaw tenses at that, his mood shifting. “Fuck, you serious?”
“Abby got stitches for what they did to her. Poor thing had her wallet stolen.”
Now Rye is more than pissed. “I bet it was those guys in Burly. They’ve been causing lots of problems. It’s time they slow their goddamn roll. Don't you think?”
“Yeah I do. But I don't even know who did it. We should go talk to Graham at the police department and find out.”
Rye nods. “Yeah, we should. And look, I'm not saying she shouldn't be here. I'm just wondering who she is.”
“Well, it's nice that you're protective,” I say, “but she's my date tonight. Okay? So let me do the protecting when it comes to Abby.”
“All right.” Rye runs a hand over his beard. “Enough said.”
“Good,” I say as Lemon comes into the kitchen with Abby at her side.
“What are you grumpy boys talking about?” she asks with a deepening frown on her face.
“I swear, the two of you,” I say, pointing to Rye and then Lemon, “are both constantly so irritable.” I walk out of the room, taking Abby’s hand as I do.
Abby asks me what that was all about.
“Honestly, I think they both need to find someone to date and get laid.”
She laughs then leans in close, her warm breath on my ear. “And what about you, Bartlett? Do you need to get laid?”
I groan. “You trying to drive me wild before we sit down to Sunday supper?”
She bites her lip. “Now that you’ve mentioned it, it could be something we continue talking about when we're not about to sit down at the dinner table with your parents.”
She points to the room full of my family, a few feet away.
I grin. But my hand is suddenly at her waist and she is at my side. “I'm happy you're here,” I say, standing close to her, feeling her warmth. I realize I like this girl. I like the way she smiles and laughs. The way she's comfortable in her own skin and the way she entered this big, wild house without cowering in the corner. She was just here, talking to Plum and my parents and me like she's been here all along.