Porter (Men of Lovibond 3)
“We’re dating. To me, that makes you my girlfriend.”
“Then I’m your girlfriend.”
“Damn right, you are.”
We made it onto the road by two o’clock but Friday evening traffic was horrid. We somehow managed to end up making decent time nonetheless. Probably because Porter drove like a bat out of hell on the stretches of interstate.
We pull into the drive of an older-style home that has undergone a major remodeling. “This house looks like the finished product on an episode of Fixer Upper.”
“My parents did a lot of work on it a few years ago. Looks nothing like it did when I grew up here.”
Painted brick. Stone accents. Cedar beams. It’s a cozy-looking ranch style. “I love it.”
Porter has already told me that his parents are older and were well established when he was a child. That made me so afraid that we were going to pull up to some kind of enormous mansion, and I was immediately going to feel out of my element. Not the case at all.
The front door opens before we make it there, and Porter’s mom stands in the doorway waiting for us. She’s an attractive woman. Minimal wrinkles. Fair-haired. Warm caramel eyes, the same color as her son’s. I already know she’s in her sixties but I would have guessed much younger. Time has been kind to Mrs. Beckman.
Porter hugs his mom. “How are you feeling?
“A little tired but I’m okay.” She releases him and takes my hands in hers. “You must be Frankee.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Beckman.”
“I want you to call me Kit.”
“I can do that.”
A huge smile spreads across her face, and she squeezes my hands. “You are just as pretty as you are kind.”
What a lovely compliment to give to someone. “Thank you.”
“Come in and drop your bags in your bedroom. Dinner is ready, and everyone is champing at the bit to eat.”
“Everyone?”
“Oh, it’s just Porter’s dad, our other son and his wife, and our daughter and her husband, and their two boys.” Lots of ands in that list of people.
I follow Porter down the hall to his bedroom. “Sounds like the whole family is here to see you.”
He chuckles. “Not to see me. They’re here to meet the first girl I’ve brought home in a long time.”
“How long?”
“At least seven years. No… I was probably a sophomore in college so more like ten.”
That’s a reminder of our age gap. “Sheez, Porter. I would have been eleven years old then.”
“I haven’t given our age difference a lot of thought, but that shines a whole different light on it when you put it like that. I’m a fucking cradle robber.”
“What’s a fucking cradle robber?”
We turn at the sound of a child’s voice, and two of the cutest little boys I’ve ever seen are standing in the doorway. Those must be his sister’s children.
Porter uses his finger to summon them into the bedroom. “Come here, you little hell-raisers.”
They run into the room and hug their uncle’s legs. “Boys, this is Frankee. She’s my special friend, and I want you to be nice to her. Can you do that for me?”
His nephews simultaneously nod. So sweet.
Porter taps the taller boy on the head. “This is Bennett. He’s six, and this little monkey is Callan. He’s four.”
“Very nice to meet you.”
“What’s a fucking cradle robber?” Bennett asks a second time.
Porter chuckles. “Those are grown-up words. I shouldn’t have said them for little ears to hear.”
“But what is it?”
“Don’t worry about what it is.” He playfully swats Bennett on his bottom. “Go on to the table and tell everyone we’ll be there in a minute.”
“Vroom vroom vroom.” The boys take off like a pair of cars racing away.
“They’re so cute.”
“Don’t let the cuteness fool you. They’re total hell-raisers. My sister has her hands full with those two.”
“I’m no stranger to a pair of cute, but mean-ass boys. Finch and Fowler have been raising hell for eighteen years.” And they’re nowhere near done. They just raise a different kind of hell now.
“I haven’t been around your brothers much. Your dad didn’t bring them to the brewery very often.”
“Probably because he was afraid they’d torch the place while they were there. They’re bad, Porter. Sooo bad.”
“I think all boys their age are.”
I think Finch and Fowler are a special kind of trouble. “They’re worse than most. I think it’s because they’re twins and they grew up competing for everything. Whoever acted worse won the attention, and it has carried over into adulthood.”
“They’ll be okay.”
“I’m so afraid they’re going to do something stupid like get kicked out of school or knock up some girl during a one-night stand.”
“I bet they’re smarter than you give them credit for.”
He hasn’t been around them. “Believe me. They’re not.”
“Well, if they screw up, they screw up. You can’t make those decisions for them.”
“I know. But I can’t help but worry. They’re my little brothers.”
“You’re a great big sister. “He presses a kiss on the top of my head. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting to meet you and I’m starving.”
Porter begins the introductions with his dad, Gabe. He’s attractive for a man in his sixties. Tall and fit. Although his eyes are bright blue and Porter’s are light brown and gold, I see similarities between the two. Both are almond shaped with a slight slant on the outer edge. I hadn’t noticed that about Porter until seeing his dad.
His older brother and his wife are next. Cade is shorter, not as muscular, and has a little gray at his temples. Definitely handsome. The brothers share a lot of the same facial features. I can’t stop looking back and forth between the two comparing the similarities and differences. It’s a little strange looking at the face of a man who looks so much like Porter.
His sister-in-law, Bethany, is cute as a bug. I have a feeling her face is a little fuller than usual based on the size of her round belly. “And this is baby Beckman. Due to make his or her debut in four weeks.”
“You didn’t find out what you’re having?”
“No, I want it to be a surprise.”
“Oh, fun. I don’t think I would want to find out what I was having either.”
Porter introduces his sister and her husband, Clay, last. Alexis is a small female version of Porter and Cade except she got their dad’s blue eyes. Like me, she’s the only daughter and obviously, daddy’s girl. Within a matter of minutes, I can tell that she and the boys are the center of her husband’s world.
“These are our boys, Bennett and Callan.”
“I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting them. And they are adorable.”
“Thank you. We think they’re pretty cute.”
Everyone goes to their chair around the table for ten, but I hang back, waiting for a leftover seat. Porter slips his hand into mine and tugs. “Come on. We’re on that side at the end.”
There’s not an empty seat. Reminds me of lunch around my grand’s table.
I smile when I see we’re having breakfast for dinner. Somebody’s mama cooked his favorite meal.
“I hope you don’t mind having breakfast for dinner, Frankee. It’s something we do around here a lot.”
“We do it at my house too. It’s one of my favorite meals.”
Serving bowls and plates pass counterclockwise around the table. Biscuits. Sawmill gravy. Chocolate gravy. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Sausage. Pancakes. Hash browns.
The works.
Mrs. Beckman—Kit—went all out. Cracker Barrel has nothing on this woman’s dinner table.
“Porter, how did you and Frankee meet?”
“Her father came to work for Lovibond when we opened the doors. He’s our warehouse
manager.”
“You’ve known each other for years and it just now struck you to be interested in one another?”
“Prior to her walking into my office for an interview, we hadn’t seen each other in three years.”
Kit laughs. “I’m guessing you gave her the job.”
“It’s actually an internship. But yes, I gave her the position.”
“What kind of internship?”
“She’s a graphic designer with a minor in marketing. She’s helping out in my department for the summer.”
“What does your dad think of you dating the boss?”
Shit. Porter’s sister could have asked me anything in the world. Any. Damn. Thing. And she asks me that?
“My dad’s very fond of Porter.” It’s not an answer to his sister’s question, but it’s also not a lie.
“What is a fucking cradle robber?” Bennett asks, wearing a mischievous grin as he looks at Porter and me. Little shit knows exactly what he’s doing.
Alexis gasps. “Bennett! Where did you hear that?”