AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Stay.
On.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The older woman at the hostess stand at the Olive and Thyme Taverna had given Astrid an enthusiastic hug when they walked in the door. Then she’d walked them through the crowded restaurant to a table for two tucked into an alcove. She’d sent a waiter over with pomegranate ouzotinis on the house and had stopped by to check in on them no less than three times through dinner, making sure to mention each time how nice Astrid looked and shooting an agree-now-fool look Cal’s way, which—of course—he did.
Cal had no idea how he’d ended up telling Astrid about his family’s history with hogs—minus his sisters’ marriage predictions—but it was making her laugh, so he kept going right through to the huge bowl of rizogalo they decided to split for dessert.
“You know there’s only one way this story ends,” Astrid said as she scooped up a spoonful of the rice pudding covered in cinnamon. “Your family has to buy the Flying Sow.”
“Oh, my sisters would love that,” he said, trying not to keep staring at Astrid’s luscious mouth after she swiped a stray bit of pudding from the corner of it. “They’d have a blast listening to Mikey and Pete’s stories. At least one of them would knee Andy in the nuts—probably Roxy.”
“I like her already,” Astrid said before taking a sip from her pomegranate ouzotini. “What’s the rest of your family like?”
“Absolutely batshit.” Which really wasn’t that much of an exaggeration—and that was before he added in the aunts, uncles, and cousins in Prairie Lake and beyond.
“Come on, tell me for real. But first—” She loaded up another spoonful of rizogalo and held it out for him. “You haven’t been holding up your end of dessert eating, and it’s so good.”
It was almost enough to give him ideas. They’d spent the entire dinner doing exactly what they were supposed to—keeping their clothes on. He’d never been more disappointed by success in his life.
“I am not going to make the airplane noise,” she said, still holding out the spoon. “Open up.”
The last time he had been the one to make that demand and—
Get your shit together, Matsen. Eat. Talk. Home. Jerk off in the shower for the third time today like a horny fucking teenager—otherwise she’s just going to keep shutting herself up in supply closets anytime you’re within three feet of her, and no one wants that.
Unless he was also in the closet and in that case—
Fucking A, Matsen. Open your damn mouth.
He did, and she fed him the rice pudding, which was delicious, all sweet and creamy with just enough cinnamon to make it interesting.
“I told you, so yummy.” She gathered another spoonful for herself. “Now, tell me about the Matsens.”
“My sisters Roxy, Brit, and Megs run the family autoshop while Cami has the town’s only bookstore. Brit is the only one younger than me, and she’d see the silver lining in a mushroom cloud. Roxy is the oldest, and she’s brass balls personified. Megs is a total smart-ass, and Cami is definitely the smartest out of all of us.” Loud, loyal, and giant pains in his ass, he couldn’t imagine life without his sisters. “My mom retired last year. She loves dogs, so we are now on Amos the Fourth—this one is a beagle mix who forgets how to howl when he’s awake but does it in his sleep. My dad is the fish guy, so we’ve had—I don’t know how many—Betta fish; the latest pair are Ben and Jerry. Every year growing up, he’d wake us up before dawn and we’d all pile into the family SUV to drive to one state park or another. If we were on the road for less than six hours, my dad would not make any pitstops.”
Astrid’s eyes got as big as hockey pucks. “I will not be driving with your dad.”
Cal tried to imagine Astrid squashed into the backseat of the family Suburban barreling down the highway with at least one kid on state patrol watch because no one wanted Dad to get another speeding ticket. The mental image made him smile because she’d fit right in. She’d probably turn statie spotting into a competition that would have them all trying to win—not that it took much to spark any of the Matsens’ competitive streak.
“Dad’s mellowed about the no-pitstops thing since almost retirement.”
She offered him another spoonful of pudding. “Almost?”
“He sold the autoshop to my sisters but still shows up three days out of five,” he said before taking the spoon from her and eating the rizogalo.
Astrid’s eyebrows went sky high. “Your sisters are okay with that?”
“Since they’re all the most stubborn people to ever have lived, there are definitely some sparks, but he knows they know what they’re doing even if they aren’t doing things exactly like he would. My mom calls it growth.”
Astrid chuckled and took a sip of her drink. “You like your family.”
“I do.” He nodded. “How about you?”
“It’s just my dad and me,” Astrid said, dropping her gaze and fidgeting with the small napkin with Olive and Thyme Taverna printing on it that had been under her ouzotini. “He’s pretty great. Ten out of ten. No complaints.”
That sounded about as believable as the time Megs swore she hadn’t gotten grease stains on Roxy’s favorite hoodie despite the video proof from the shop’s security cameras.
