Demarien nodded, taking Boone’s hand in his under the table. “Gotcha.”
“Two.” Joe turned to Boone. “If you ever hurt my boy, you’ll never know peace again. Every second of every day, Iwillfind some way to torment you. And I own a grocery store and have a small army of forty-five chickens. You may find that those little torments I mentioned include a copious amount of feathers and some of that spreadable marshmallow fluff.”
Boone swallowed hard and squeezed Demarien’s hand. “I understand.”
“And three.” Joe narrowed his eyes as if his gaze could pierce right through Boone if he really tried. “Expect a matching exercise outfit for Christmas.”
“Oka-- Wait, what?” Boone blinked rapidly, trying to process what he just heard as Demarien let out a hearty laugh.
“You like the shirt, don’t you, Dad?”
“Of course.” Joe grinned. He put the guinea pig back in her cage and glanced at his watch. “Alright, I gotta hop back to it, make sure Rochelle hasn’t burned the place down.”
“Or eaten all the Halloween candy.” Demarien crossed his arms and mumbled under his breath.
“You're still holding a grudge. You were in the fifth grade, son. Don’t you think it’s time to let it go?” Joe smirked.
“Hellno,” Demarien grumbled. “She ateallthe Reese's, you know. That should be a federal offense.”
“I’ll be sure to call a family meeting once everything is settled with the estate.” Joe fished out some bills and left them on the table. “Get whatever you want. My treat. Just get Wilma to charge the store.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Demarien crossed his arms. “But I’m still going to get you back for telling Boone about my crush.”
“Grudges don’t become you, son.” The bell above the door jingled as Joe left with a laugh. Without him, the diner seemed almost too quiet, despite the constant clatter and clamor.
“So, you successfully survived the Watts’ family interrogation.” Demarien cuddled into Boone’s side. “Congratulations.”
“I somehow imagined your Dad would’ve been a little less scary.” Boone let out a little huff of relief. “He seemed so warm when I met him at your cottage.”
“He has his tough side.” Demarien chuckled. “It always surprises me when I see it. I’m hungry.”
Boone felt his stomach grumble. “Speaking of, what do you say we call Wilma-Jean over? I can hear that tuna and white bean bruschetta calling out to me.”
Chapter 8
“And that’s how I found out I hate Nutella.” Demarien finished, taking a long swig of his drink. A shudder ran through his body. “Nasty-ass, oily, knock-off chocolate.”
“Oooh, don’t let Patrick hear you say that. Lock that man in a room with a lifetime supply of that junk, and he would somehow bust out an hour later demanding more.”
Demarien chuckled. “You miss your friend, don’t you?”
Boone nodded. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
Before Demarien could respond, Wilma’s warm voice called out over the clamor, greeting a few burly workers.
“Wow. I haven’t seen the guys from the sawmill in a hot minute.” Demarien’s face lit up as his gaze landed on the newcomers. “Looks like they got a few newbies, too.”
Demarien waved them over, and their eyes lit up in recognition. Despite their rugged looks, they were some of the nicest guys in town, and their old mill was one of Myrtlewood Bay’s staple buildings. Boone recognized the older men in the group, but as they got a bit closer, the few fresh faces scattering the rowdy group came back to him.
“Hell, I graduated with a few of those guys.” Boone chuckled. “Never thought I’d see them working in the mill. They always seemed the type to find a cushy little office job.”
“Just goes to show you that people can always surprise you.” Demarien grinned before he turned back to greet the group, chattering away.
However, it seemed no matter how long Boone had known them, they couldn’t disguise the trepidation in their eyes when they looked at him, like they didn’t know what to say to him anymore.
But then, he was getting used to those eyes.
“Hey, you okay?”
