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Our house was a large log home that sat on the right end of the lake. It was only when you stood at the lake's edge that you could see all the other homes around it. The mountains hung in the background. I took a deep breath, enjoying the warmth.
“Gwen!”
I jumped back when three grown men in plaid shirts and mountain boots ran toward me, lifting me up.
“Guys! Down, now!” I yelled at them as they threw me up.
They laughed, catching me and putting me back on my feet.
Eli’s eyebrow lifted up as his gaze shifted to each of them.
I wished I could read his mind. “Eli, this is—”
“Boys, don’t mind the city slicker. Come in, we've got supper ready,” my father yelled from the door.
I just looked up to the sky. Kill me now!
“City Slicker, good luck.” They patted him on the shoulder on their way into the house.
“And they are?” Eli pointed to them.
“Okay, crash course, my dad most likely invited them to make you uncomfortable. The boy with the longish brown-blond hair is Jeremy Lawrence, he’s 23, and was Stevie’s first boyfriend. Never bring her up, because he still has a thing for her. He’s now the town mechanic. Malik Washington is the one with the short, curly afro; he’s the same age as me and works for the Cypress Police. Last, and most important, is Roy. My dad’s been trying to set me up with Roy Griffin since we were kids. He’s like the golden boy after my dad's heart, and he teaches photography at the high school,” I finished, taking in another breath, and yet he didn’t seem one bit concerned. “Did you get all of that?”
“Yep,” he said, taking our stuff toward the house.
When I stepped inside, they popped streamers at me. “Welcome home, Gwen!”
Pulling streamers off my head, I laughed. Maybe this would be all right…
Chapter Twenty-One
The Inquisition of Eli Davenport
Eli
It was cute how worried and nervous she was for me, but there was nothing she could do or say to her father that would make him ease up, nor did I want her to. What her father wanted was for me to prove to him that I was worthy of his daughter. In most cases, for fathers, that’s impossible. I would never be worthy, I would just become tolerable. That was fine; tolerable was good. It was just I had no road map to get there, and what made it worse was the last person who had tried was an absolute buffoon of a man. Masoa Poe now had as much faith in me as he did in a snowman lasting in the desert.
“I made all your favorites, Gwen.” Her mother led her to the table where she had laid out a whole spread, from baked chicken and salmon to gravy, bread, rice, and pies.
Guinevere looked down the length of the wooden table, and then back to her father. “Thank you, but please tell me you haven’t been eating like this. Dad, you had a heart attack. Shouldn’t you be eating fruits, vegetables, and nuts?”
She had a point.
“Do I look like a deer to you?”
She frowned.
He shook his head. “Your mother’s been keeping me on the health food, okay, sweetheart? This is just to welcome you home. Maybe if you remembered how good home-cooked meals are, you would come home more often.”
“Eli’s a great cook,” she said proudly, taking her seat.
I noticed the boys all quickly sat around her, forcing me to sit across from her and right next to her father at the head of the table. Her mother sat at the other end.
“You cook?” her mother asked me, placing the dishes around.
“Ma’am, my mother wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She nodded proudly. “Now, if someone else would listen to their mother.”
