“A salad? On Thanksgiving? Like, for the main event?” He was incredulous. How in the world did any red-blooded American think a
salad
was appropriate for Thanksgiving?
She nodded. “Ridiculous, I know. Trust me.”
“Sweets, that should be borderline fucking illegal.” Jesus Christ. Her mother really was a piece of work. “You want me to cook?” he offered, hoping she accepted. If her mother was planning on serving him some bullshit tofurkey along with some salad and none of the sides that made the meal outstanding, well, he’d be polite only because she gave birth to Calleigh, but that was about the extent of what Calleigh or her mother could expect of his manners.
“If you want to, that’d be great. We totally cannot trust Lauren to put on a Thanksgiving dinner and you’ve seen what I can do,” she said, gesturing to their dinner plates.
“What are you talking about? This was great tonight,” he said, meaning it. Slight guilt flushed through his veins for having doubted her and her cooking abilities, but he was happy and pleasantly surprised Calleigh’s dinner turned out so well.
She shrugged, wiping her mouth with her napkin and stroking her beer bottle. “This was fairly simple. I’m not sure I have what it takes for an entire Thanksgiving meal. However, I’m happy to be your sous chef, though.”
“Great. Is it okay if you guys come over here? It’ll be easier for me if I cook here and you should probably plan on spending the night that Wednesday night if you don’t have any other plans. I don’t and I should be able to get home at a reasonable time,” he offered.
“That’d be terrific. I’ll feel better with you meeting her in your house. She’s intimidating enough on her own.” Calleigh shuddered.
Pushing his plate to the side, he welcomed her hand in his. “Believe it or not, I can generally get along with parents. Even yours despite the job she’s done on your head and your self-esteem.”
He stroked his fingers over hers, reassuring her, comforting her. Not traditionally affectionate, he craved touching Calleigh, in big ways and little ones. A caress on the back of the hand. A gentle rub of the neck. A raunchier pat on her oh-so-lovely behind. A knead of her frequently tense shoulders. An inside touch of her waist. Touching her pleased him.
“In a weird way, I recognize that her neurosis comes from a place of love where she wants me to be the best I can be. In her mind, that means looking a certain way which can only be achieved by eating a certain way.”
“Or not eating, in reality,” he said.
“Yeah. Not eating, although that clearly wasn’t the case tonight,” she said, indicating her bowl that was now clean of pasta.
“You’re going to need your carbs tonight, babe,” he growled, his intent unmistakable.
“Is that a promise?”
“Oh yeah. We haven’t been together in days. Do you know how much I need to work out?”
“Say the words and I’m there,” she said.
He stood up with her hand in his and walked with her back to his bedroom that he was slowly coming to think of his and Calleigh’s. Theirs. Turning on one of the bedside lights, he looked at her, taking her in and loving everything he saw. The shiny blonde hair that was down tonight, the natural style he loved. Her voluptuous lips that looked like they’d sucked a juicy, red strawberry. Her firm breasts that filled out his palms perfectly. Her hips that cradled him expertly. Her long, athletic, muscular legs that matched him stride for stride and wrapped around his waist as though expertly designed for him.
“You know the drill. Undress,” he commanded, doing the same.
She unbuttoned her white blouse revealing a blue and green lace bra that magnified her eyes and removed her pants, leaving only her bra and thong panties.
He cocked his head and smiled at her.
“Off or on?” she asked.
“Off,” he answered.
They spent the next two hours working each other out.
§ § §
Thanksgiving morning dawned cranky and dark, like a sleeping child unexpectedly roused from an afternoon nap. The rain beat David’s house at an alarming rate, flashing all around, the wind whistling through the trees, causing the branches to sway like drunken sailors. Calleigh and David sipped their coffee in the living room watching the storm swirl around outside, him in navy sweats and nothing else; her in pink sweat pants and a purple sweatshirt.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, her concern for his body temp overriding her admiration for his naked chest.
“Are you cold? You want me to turn up the heat?” he offered, grabbing her foot and rubbing it. God, she loved it when he did this. As talented as he was in bed with his hands, they worked all the kinks out of her feet, her legs, and her back whenever they weren’t otherwise demonstrating his ownership all over her body.
“I’m alright. I thought you might be chilled.”
“Nope. I’m fine. Your mom’s coming over around noon?” he confirmed.
She nodded her head. “Yes. Lauren is nothing if not punctual.”
They showered together and then attacked Thanksgiving dinner and all of its preparations in advance of her mother’s arrival. David had made the dressing the night before and didn’t believe in stuffing his bird – “it’s entirely unnecessary,” – and now they were peeling the potatoes, placing the turkey in the roasting pan, and prepping the sweet potatoes, brussel sprouts, fresh green beans with pancetta, and cranberries. Calleigh’d picked up two pies, the ever traditional pumpkin and a fun-loving buttermilk pie the prior day that were chilling in the refrigerator.
“You’re really good at this, you know that?” she said as he continued to season the breast meat.
“At what? Cooking? I told you: a man’s gotta eat.”
“No, at this. This whole thing. Putting this entire meal together prior to my mother’s arrival.”
“I have many talents, Ms. Stuart. You haven’t even scratched their surface yet.”
“I’d like to scratch something else,” she said lecherously, wiggling her eyebrows before dissolving into fits of giggles.
He wiggled his eyebrows right back at her. “Oh yeah?”
“
Oh yeah,
” she said indicating his backside.
Turning so that he presented his rear to her, he said, “The things I do for love.”
Holy crap. Had he just said what I think I heard?
“Come on, already,” he ordered. “I don’t have all day. I’ve got a bird that needs a hot oven and potatoes that need to be placed into salty water.”
Deciding that he most definitely hadn’t meant to say what she thought she heard, she lightly scratched his lower back before reaching down and cupping his cheeks. “Now, get back to making my dinner,” she teased.
“Your wish is my command.”
Promptly at the stroke of twelve, the doorbell announced her mother’s arrival, doubtless in all of her Lauren-like glory. Answering the door, she greeted her.
“Hello, Mother,” she said, moving in to hug her.
“Sheesh, Calleigh. Can’t you at least let me get into the house and out of this rain first?” Lauren reprimanded her as she stepped across the threshold and wiped her shoes on the inside rug.
“Sorry, Mother. I was simply excited to see you,” she apologized. Their first words and already they were at odds.
This was not the type of omen she was looking for as part of their reunion.
At that moment, David strolled into the living room from the kitchen, as big and as manly as she’d ever seen him. Faded jeans hugged him in all the right places, the knees so worn they were about to rip, while a white button-down rolled up at the sleeves revealed sleekly muscled forearms. Forearms that only hours before had supported his body as he’d jettisoned in and out of hers with the speed and force of an Amtrak train. She prayed to God to prevent her from blushing today while remembering all the acts she and David engaged in the prior night.
David’s broad smiled made Lauren perk up and preen like a teenager. “You must be the incomparable Lauren Stuart. David Shalvington. Thanks so much for coming over,” he said as he took her slicker and moved in to shake her hand. Thank God he hadn’t tried to kiss her on her lips or even her hand. Such familiar moves would have spelled disaster in about a million different ways.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Lauren said as she followed Calleigh’s lead to sit on the living room couch.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asked as mother and daughter settled in.
“Water would be fine.” Naturally, no excess calories particularly in the middle of the day.
“One water coming right up. Cal, you want a refill?” he asked, indicating her glass of white wine.
“I’d love one.” Let her mother chew on that. The new Calleigh drank wine in the middle of the day on holidays and weekends. Several glasses, in fact.
“This appears to be a very nice neighborhood,” Lauren said as her eyes carefully scrutinized the house. Thankfully David and his weekly housekeeper kept his house as immaculate as she maintained her own loft. No licks of dust anywhere, no stains on any of the furniture, the comforting smell of lemon Pledge lingering. She reminded herself to tell him to make sure he tipped his cleaning service well the next time.
“I think so too. David said that it’s full of a lot of families with kids of varying ages and a few older couples whose kids are in college or beyond who haven’t yet downsized.”
“You can tell the people in this neighborhood care about their property values. Including your David,” Lauren said as he came through delivering drinks to both. He seated himself next to Calleigh as she sipped her wine.
“I think they do for the most part. I mean, everyone around here is fairly conscientious about how their yards look, if there are too many cars littering driveways or clogging up the street. I like this neighborhood very much,” David said.
“So, I understand you manage the Tide?” Lauren asked demurely, sipping her water while Calleigh snuggled deeper into David’s side.
“I sure do.”
“That must be a fascinating position to be in. So many different moving parts to a football team. Draft selections. Trades. Injuries. Playoffs. Payroll and the salary cap. How do you manage it all?”
From what planet did her mother recently spring forth? Her mother, who had only ever demonstrated an interest in tennis and certainly nothing ever remotely resembling football, gain all this knowledge?
“You flatter me by thinking I handle it all myself. The Tide has a lot of personnel who work on all these issues year round, so my job isn’t that hard. In fact, the people who surround me make my job easy,” he said, stroking her arm, comforting her even though she was fairly content sipping her wine and watching the interplay between her mother and her boyfriend.
“You’re very gracious,” Lauren complimented, displaying the first real smile she’d shown in…Calleigh couldn’t remember the last time a smile truly lit up her mother’s face, a smile of pure, unadulterated joy absent of filter or pretense. No worry here about smiling adding years to her face, or concern that smiling too much would indicate that she wasn’t to be taken seriously.
“I’m speaking the God’s honest truth here, Ma’am,” he said. “Seriously. The owners hired me and I selected pretty much the front office team and had some input about the coaches who were ultimately hired. So, basically what I’m saying is that I recruited well,” he said as Calleigh caught a quick wink pass from him to Lauren.
It was probably a good thing he hadn’t been so charming when they’d first met. He would have charmed the panties right off her in about three seconds flat.
Maybe four.
“And it smells as though you are a fabulous cook to boot, David,” Lauren said.
“Your daughter and I didn’t do too bad on the bird.”
“Calleigh? As in, my child, Calleigh?” Turning towards her, Lauren said, “Calleigh, when did you learn to cook a turkey?”
“I didn’t, Mother. I merely assisted this morning.”
“Well, that’s fantastic. Turkey really is one of the best proteins you can make for yourself. Lean and low in calories.”
She couldn’t help herself. Calorie and fat content regarding any given food item rolled off her mother’s tongue the way greetings rolled off others’. While she couldn’t break her mother’s habit that had formed over the better part of fifty years, but she could control her reaction to it and not become distressed by it.
“David brined it in white wine and other spices last night. I think that’s what you’re smelling.”
Lauren’s eyes grew, but she stopped herself before she could say something offensive. “Of course. A wine brine. How…extraordinary.”
David shrugged. “Throughout the years, I’ve experimented with a variety of different brines. The trick with brines is that you want to infuse the turkey with enough liquid to keep it tender and juicy, while using enough spices to flavor it without overwhelming the natural flavor of the meat. I’ve used this one several times over the years and it’s the best.”
“Well, I’d love to have your recipe sometime,” Lauren said as she stood up. “I’m afraid I drank quite a bit of coffee this morning that’s now catching up with me. Where’s your bathroom?”
After her mother excused herself, she turned to him. “So, what do you think so far?”
He smiled at her, his smile so at odds with his harsh, austere face. “I think she’s been nothing but pleasant since she arrived. I also think she desperately wants to make amends with you. She couldn’t take her eyes off you. I mean, I can’t either, but for entirely different reasons,” he said, suggestively raising his eyebrows.
“Oh, please. She was probably mentally trying to calculate how many pounds I’ve gained since she last saw me.”
“Don’t do that, Calleigh. It’s a holiday. Don’t attribute ulterior motives or nasty thoughts to her today. Let’s have a nice time, alright?”
Taking a deep breath, she conceded the point. “You’re right. After a lifetime of her scrutiny, it’s hard for me to disconnect from it, know what I mean?”
He shook his head. “No, not really. I have a completely different relationship with my parents. But, I can imagine what it’s like to always feel as though you don’t measure up no matter how hard you try. That’s in the past, so let’s just try and enjoy our day today, okay?”