It’s on the tip of her tongue to refute my assessment, but her mouth closes slowly and I can see the compliment sink into her in stages—ears, mind, heart, body. “Flattery will get you everything, Bobby. But I’m guessing you already know that,” she replies, lighter than she was a moment ago.
“Not flattery if it’s true,” I reply. Brushing her sweep of bangs to the side, I meet her eyes. “You ready for this? You already met most of the gang, and they like you more than they like me at this point. Just the kids and Mama Louise left, and I have no doubt they’ll feel the same way.”
She pushes at my chest, smirking. “Pretty sure the whole town is in love with you, so quit fishing for adoration.”
She thinks she’s telling the truth, that the whole town loves me, but she couldn’t be more wrong. They love the image they’ve created of me, some sappy singing cowboy who loves the limelight, when the truth is much darker and my singing onstage is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
“Don’t need the town’s love, just yours,” I tell her, touching toward what I really want.
Her smile is the real deal this time, and feeling like she’s as ready as she’s gonna be, I take her hand and lead her inside.
“’Bout time,” Mark grumbles, spooning more than his fair share of potatoes onto his plate.
All conversation stops and all movement freezes as eyes cut to me and Willow, who’s got a death grip on my hand.
Breaking the solid block of ice in the room, I say, “Everybody remember Willow?”
There’s a round of ‘hey, Willow’ and ‘welcome’ as the girls all high-five. I hear Sophie tell Shayanne, “Hell yeah, girl. Good job.” Guess that’s about Shay getting Willow here when I hadn’t so much as asked her to come out, too fearful that she’d balk.
I lead Willow to the end of the table across from Mark. “Mama Louise, this is Willow Parker. Willow, this is Mama Louise.”
Willow shakes Mama Louise’s hand, “Nice to meet you, Louise.”
Mama Louise shakes her head, gray-streaked blonde hair and blue eyes dancing. “None of that. I go by Mama or Mama Louise. Even your Uncle Hank calls me that, and he’s a good ten years older than me, not that we’re discussing age, mind you.”
Willow catches the important thing. “Nice to meet you then, Mama Louise.”
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.