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I put the mug under the spout, hit the button, and leaned against the island. I started with my sister, replying that Grandma had not killed any ducks to my knowledge but it was a possibility. I told Colton they’d changed it as I’d gotten home and I’d send a picture when I took the trash out in a bit, then texted Kinsley back a very adult, “What the fuck?”
Her reply came first.KINSLEY: FUCKS. TOMORROW.I raised my eyebrows. Oh, yeah?ME: I’m listening.KINSLEY: Stupid autocorrect.KINSLEY: I meant ducks.Maybe not.
Fucking ducks.ME: Thanks for getting my hopes up.KINSLEY: LOL, but seriously. The duck parade is tomorrow.ME: I am not going to the duck parade.KINSLEY: Yes, you are. If I have to go, you’re going.ME: That only works when everyone knows about us.KINSLEY: Fine, your grandma said you had to go or she’s telling Colton.ME: Low blow.KINSLEY: I know. So you have to come.ME: Not the kind of coming I was hoping for.KINSLEY: Joshua.ME: What?KINSLEY: We have to figure out how to handle this because Colt will be there and Mabel runs her mouth faster than Usain Bolt after a world record.ME: Fuck.KINSLEY: EXACTLY. Are you at home?ME: Yes.KINSLEY: Have you eaten yet?ME: No. I just walked through the door like five minutes ago.KINSLEY: I’m bringing dinner. I’ll be there in half an hour.ME: You know your brother brought the house right? He could show up at any moment to see it and probably come by.KINSLEY: Then I’ll have to keep my pants on this time, won’t I?ME: Whoa. Don’t go that far.KINSLEY: Go away. I’m going to get food.I laughed and grabbed my coffee to take it upstairs. If she was coming over, I desperately needed to shower since I was covered in grime from work, but I was glad I didn’t have to cook.
Or order my own food.
This having a girlfriend thing was really working in my favor.
I downed half the coffee before I got in the shower. After a hot rinse and a hard scrub, I shut off the water, wrapped a towel around my waist, and headed downstairs to the laundry room for some clean sweats.
I was almost entirely dry by the time the rumble of Kinsley’s car filled the air. I looked out of the window to see her pull up behind my truck. She got out of the car and walked around the front of it to the passenger side where she opened the door and bent forward, offering me a full look of her ass clad in dark gray yoga pants.
I groaned. If yoga pants were my fucking kryptonite, and Kinsley in yoga pants was a walking wet dream.
I adjusted my boxers over my now half-hard cock and walked to the door to let her in. “Did you have to wear yoga pants?”
“I’m sorry,” she drawled. “Was I supposed to pick up dinner in my underwear?”
“No, but feel free to eat in it.” I grinned and stepped aside to let her in, then closed the door behind her.
“But if my brother stops by, I can’t talk myself out of that one.” She returned the smile as she put the bag of food on the kitchen island. “Get some plates.”
I pulled two dinner plates from the cupboard and set them down. “Tell me about this damn duck thing.”
Kinsley’s groan reverberated through the entire kitchen. “I picked the last of Grandpa’s tomatoes from the garden this morning and dropped them off when I had my lunch break. Mabel has organized the duck parade to be marched through the gardens of the retirement home tomorrow lunchtime. Apparently, they’re even putting on food.”
“Do they know how insane this is?”
She shrugged one shoulder and reached up to tie up her hair into a loose bun. “I have no idea, but it’s absolute carnage over there. Rosie and Agatha have both tried to appoint themselves as ‘Chairwoman of the Parade,’ much to Mabel’s irritation, and your grandmother has just been drinking gin and tonic and leaving them to it.”
My lips pulled to one side. Rosie and Agatha’s rivalry was somewhat legendary, and I wasn’t surprised to hear that they were now arguing with each other over something they thought was completely stupid.
Nor was I surprised to learn that my grandmother was drinking her way through the process.
If you asked me, she had it right.
“Isn’t this Mabel’s thing?” I asked, emptying mushroom ravioli onto my plate. “Why wouldn’t she be the… chairwhatever is it.”
“That’s the point.” Kinsley said, opening her own takeout container of spaghetti bolognese. “She believes she should be, so nothing is really getting done. Or at least it wasn’t an hour ago when Amanda called me and passed on a request from my grandpa to get balloons.”
“Balloons?”
“Yeah, and not little ones either.” She picked up her fork and sat on the stool nearest to her. “Those big ass helium things. They found a store in Creek Hill that sells duck and chicken-shaped balloons and want me to go and pick up twenty of them.”
