Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce (9 page)

“He’ll come around,” Mason assured her.

The timer on the oven beeped, and they got back to work. A few minutes later Martha returned to the kitchen, her smile a little strained. Maybe Amy had done the right thing for her dad, but she wasn’t so sure she’d done the right thing for Martha’s family. The guilt weighing her down now was worse than it had been. She didn’t know what to do.

She looked to Mason for guidance.

“What’s next, boss?” he said as Lewis came back into the kitchen, sullen. But at least he hadn’t stormed out. Poor Martha.

There was definitely enough room in the huge kitchen for the five of them, with a double oven, a six-burner stove top in the middle of the island, and extra counter space around the sink. But with Lewis there, it seemed entirely too small. She gave out some more orders and focused on working as much as she could. Martha tried to make light conversation. Dad joined in a bit, but Lewis remained silent. He stood by the door and watched, shooting Amy dirty looks.

She wasn’t going to ask him to help. Not with that kind of ’tude. Honestly he was worse than most of her students had ever been. Way worse than Mason. At least he’d had the decency to fight with her. She wanted to win Lewis over, but the way he glared at her made her realize that would never happen. He’d made his mind up about them already.

“You know what, Lewis. If this is how you’re going to behave, you can just go sit in the living room.” Martha’s voice was sharp. And not to be argued with.

Amy froze, waiting to see what would happen next. In Lewis’s eyes, it was probably another strike against them that Martha took their side instead of his.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said and turned his back on them. He pushed his way through the swinging door and out of sight.

Amy held her breath another few heartbeats, listening for the slam of the front door. But it never came, and she released the captured air from her lungs and took a deep breath.

“I guess I forgot to mention what a drama queen my youngest is,” Martha said. She smiled and shook her head, but Amy was sure it must have hurt Martha to be rejected like that by her own son.

Dad dropped his arm around Martha’s petite shoulders and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “You want me to go talk to him?” he asked. As usual, Dad was calm and collected. Nothing could ruffle his feathers anymore. The last time she’d heard him raise his voice had been before her mother died. Lewis was a jerk. No matter how unhappy he was to have Amy and her dad there, he shouldn’t be taking it out on his mom. She didn’t deserve that. He was selfish. And shortsighted. If Martha died tomorrow, he would never forgive himself for his anger.

“No, thank you. Let’s just give him some time to cool off.”

Dad nodded and released Martha, returning to peeling potatoes.

“What’s next?” Martha asked Amy, the semblance of a bright smile on her face.

“Care to shuck the corn?” Amy said. The task might give Martha a few minutes to work out her frustration massacring the corn husks.

“Sure.” Martha grabbed the corn and went to stand by Dad at the counters opposite where Amy and Mason stood.

Amy looked at him. He’d been silent through his brother’s temper tantrum. And really, she couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been much happier with her presence than Lewis was. But at least Mason had handled himself a little better. He stepped closer to her, squeezing her hand once in reassurance, and then turned back to opening cans for the casserole. She stole a glance at Martha’s and Dad’s backs, ensuring they remained oblivious. Then she wrapped one arm around Mason’s waist and hugged him close for a second. He smiled down at her, and she released him to stir the macaroni.

As they worked, Amy made sure she stayed close to Mason, touching him every chance she got, needing his calming presence to help keep her focused. He was still convinced having sex with her was a mistake. Maybe it was just because she couldn’t ignore a challenge, but she was determined to seduce him again. And again. As many times as he would allow. She was only here for a few days, and she was going to enjoy herself. Whether or not Mason “did more than sex.” Whatever the hell that even meant.

His breath hitched with every brush of her skin against his.

“I know what you’re doing,” he whispered when she leaned against him to grab another stick of butter. Above the chopping and mixing sounds, she was sure no one else could hear him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She smirked and deliberately licked her upper lip. His gaze heated, and she knew her plan was working. Maybe spending more time with Mason was making his planning skills rub off on her. She could get used to that.

As long as she only planned little things. Because planning too far in advance only set you up for disappointment. She knew that.

He looked around the kitchen and then pushed his hips against hers. She bit her lip to keep from moaning as the bulge in his pants caressed her clit through four layers of fabric. The promise of retaliation in his blue eyes made her shiver. Without heels or even her boots on, she was a good four or five inches shorter than him.

Her breathing became shallow, and she turned, purposefully trapping herself between him and the island. His gaze darted around the kitchen again, and he stepped back from her. Damn. She’d forgotten they weren’t alone as soon as he’d thrust against her. He smiled.

“Stop, or I’m going to blow this and show everyone what we did right over there last night.” He nodded toward the stairs, and her sheath clenched. His words were low and full of heat. He turned back and continued stuffing celery with peanut butter. She knew it was an empty threat. He was a good Southern boy. He’d never do anything so crass, but just the thought of having him again thrilled her.

Amy pressed her thighs together and looked at the lists Mason had made. With the macaroni done, the casserole in the oven, the corn shucked, and the potatoes boiling, it was officially time for a break. But that meant going into the living room with the black cloud. She didn’t know if she was up for that.

Martha looked over her shoulder at the lists.

“Well, I think we can all sit down for a few minutes. What do y’all say?” Martha asked.

“Oh, I thought you’d never let us free of this inferno,” Dad said.

Martha laughed and led them into the living room. Amy was glad to breathe in the cooler air out here, but what the hell was Lewis going to do now? He was sitting in one of the rocking chairs. Mason sat beside his brother. Martha grabbed Dad’s hand and tugged him toward the couch to sit beside her. The message to Lewis was clear, even from Amy’s perspective, but Lewis’s mulish expression told her he didn’t appreciate Martha’s solidarity with Dad. This would not go well. She wanted to escape back to the kitchen, but Dad was right; she didn’t run from a fight.

And she wasn’t going to start now.

She sat down next to her father and faced Lewis. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t glare at him either.

“So, James. Sounds like you’ve been getting cozy with my mom for a while now. How’s that been going?” Lewis sneered.

Damn. So much for keeping the peace.

“Knock it off, man,” Mason commanded his younger brother.

Well, wasn’t that sweet? He was coming to her father’s defense, when just last night, Mason had been the one grilling Dad.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, so shut it. Come on, Mason. You can’t tell me you were happy to walk in and find someone else in our house. How long have you been screwing him, Mom? Six months, twelve? Longer? My dad have any idea you’re here?”

Martha opened her mouth, but Mason beat her to the punch. “Don’t you dare talk to Mom like that, Lewis. What is wrong with you?” He got to his feet and grabbed Lewis by the arm. “Let’s go have a chat in the kitchen.”

Amy wanted to intervene, but Martha stood up first. “That is just about enough of that kind of nonsense.” Her voice echoed into the foyer and bounced back at them. Amy’s whole body clenched, her heart hammered, her breath stilled.

Mason let go of his brother.

“We’re going to have a nice holiday, Lewis. And if you’d like to be a part of it, I’d suggest you check that attitude right now, young man. If you are going to make
my
guests feel unwelcome in
my
home, you can leave.”

Oh, Martha, please don’t give him an out
. Amy didn’t want to be the cause of Martha kicking her own son out on Thanksgiving. Why the hell had she convinced Dad this was a good idea?

Mason held his breath, waiting to see what Lewis would do. He’d thought Mom had talked some sense into the headstrong idiot when she’d ushered him out of the kitchen, but clearly Lewis was too stupid to know when to keep his mouth shut.

That crack about Mom dating James before she was divorced made bile rise in his throat. If only Lewis knew. But Mason could never tell him.

Lewis closed his eyes and took a breath. When he glanced again at Mom, it was with such a wounded expression, Mason would have felt bad for him if Lewis hadn’t been so damned mean. Mason hadn’t been the leader of the “Welcome the Eastons” committee or anything, but he’d never seen Lewis so pissed.

A timer beeped in the kitchen, but no one moved. They all waited for Lewis’s answer.

“Really? That’s how it is, huh?” Lewis said.

Mom’s gaze was unflinching. Uncompromising. He knew her heart must be breaking. Fucking Lewis.

“Yes, get in line, or get out.”

“Fine.”

James offered his hand. “Truce?”

Lewis nodded. “Yeah, sure. A truce, whatever.” But Mason didn’t believe the words for a second. The look on Mom’s face said she didn’t either. What the hell had she been thinking, ambushing them? Mason was one thing. He could think with a clear head, and he’d never been devoted to Dad the way Lewis was. Springing this on Lewis was way too much.

“Right, well, let’s not burn dinner in all the drama,” Mason said, trying to soothe the tension. He stood and headed for the kitchen, sparing his brother one last glare before exiting. If he got the little brat alone, he’d make him pay for being such an ass. The door swung open behind him a moment later, and Amy followed him in.

“Holy shit. I thought he was going to hit you when you grabbed him.” She moved closer to him. Her eyes were wide, her skin paler than normal. She was worried for him? He grinned. “What are you smiling about?”

“Your concern is touching. Really, it is. But Lewis is just being a moron. He’ll come around. Eventually. And you’re burning the pies,” he said. She spun from him, yanking open the upper oven.

“Are they done?”

He looked in. “Yes, no,” he said, pointing to the pecan and then pumpkin pies. She took out the pecan pie and set it on the hot plate.

“You’re kind of amazing. Did you know that?” Her lips curved into a wicked smile.

“Yeah, and I’m sure you’re not just talking about the pies.”

She blushed, and her smile widened the way he hoped it would. “I know we talked this morning about not letting things be weird, and they haven’t been.” She checked the kitchen door and then pushed her body against his. He ran his hands up the backs of her thighs and massaged the cheeks of her butt. She licked along the stubble of his jaw.

“Definitely not weird. But very difficult.” His voice was hoarse. She chuckled and grazed her teeth lightly against his skin.

“I like this,” she whispered, running her fingers through his stubble again and again. The gesture soothed him in a way he hadn’t known he needed, and tension drained from his body. If someone walked through the kitchen door now, she and Mason would be in deep trouble.

“Stop,” he said.

She kissed the edge of his mouth and pulled back.

“Sorry. I just can’t talk to you while you’re doing that.”

She licked her lips but took her hands off him and stepped away. Thank God. Because just then the door opened behind them.

“How are the pies, dear?” Mom said as if she hadn’t just had yet another showdown with Lewis. They’d been commonplace enough in their house over the years, so Mason shouldn’t be surprised that she seemed unfazed. But she’d left Lewis alone in the other room with James. Probably not the best idea. Amy seemed to think the same thing. She left the kitchen after turning the timer back on, and Mason shifted his focus to Mom.

“I’m sorry Lewis is such a jerk. I wish you’d told me that Amy and her dad were coming so I could have been a little more prepared, but I’m glad you invited them. James is, uh…” How the hell did he tell Mom he knew James had the hots for her? This was not the kind of discussion he should be having with his mother.

“Taken with me?” His mother supplied the words he was looking for.

“Yes,” he said. “But—”

“You think it’s too soon?”

“Not really.” If anything, he was thrilled his mom could move on after what his shit of a father had done to her. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. That’s all.”

She cupped his cheek in her hand. “I know, baby. And I love you for that. But James is a good man, and I like him.”

Mom released him from her hold and her gaze. He headed back into the living room to see what other fallout he’d need to clean up before Lewis ruined everything.

* * * *

Whatever else Mom and James had said to Lewis seemed to have convinced him she meant what she’d threatened. If Lewis didn’t behave himself, he wasn’t welcome in her home. As they carried items to the table, Lewis didn’t say much, but he was no longer overtly antagonistic to any of them. Mason set the bowl of mashed potatoes down on the hot plate, his stomach growling. He was looking forward to eating Amy’s regular mashed potatoes. The food smelled incredible. Mason was still convinced his brother would storm out on his family the way Dad had, but the last half hour had gone a bit better.

The scent of Thanksgiving flooded him as he looked down at the burnt-orange tablecloth laden with their feast. It was the same color as Amy’s sweater from the night before. He looked up and caught her eye. Just the briefest glimmer of tears lit her hazel gaze, but she blinked them away and sat down at the table. He sat beside her, and Lewis took his seat across from them.