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“You’re right on time. Come on,” Pattie said, waving her over to the table. “Sit down, everybody.”
Chris didn’t move, his attention on Bronte. A light-brown skirt molded to her slight frame, hugging her hips and legs, and her green shirt gaped from her chest when she bent down to fix Zoe’s headband. He stood as a hum coasted over his body. It had only been a few days, but he’d missed her body, and his fingers practically vibrated with the need to touch her.
When she finally pivoted to him, her eyes betrayed her, exposing a flare of desire before freezing over. Then she fixed her shoulders, walking past him. But the ice queen thing was all a charade, and he was determined to break it.
After everyone was seated, the adults at the expanded dining room table and the kids at smaller tables in the living room, Pattie asked, “Who’s saying grace?”
She eyed all her children as they rushed to put a finger on their noses. All except Chris, who sat up uncomfortably. “Guess it’s me, then.”
Pattie shook her head. “You don’t have to.”
“Hey, nose goes,” Fitz said in protest. “You’re up, buddy.”
Amanda, Shelley, and Tommy all nodded. Even Steven shrugged, clearly aware of the rules. Bronte ignored him from her seat at the other end of the table.
“Uh, okay.” Chris lifted his hands, a habit ingrained from his childhood. “Heavenly Father, uh, we thank you for…” He peeked up from his plate, finding Pattie smiling at him. “I’m thankful for being invited here, into this beautiful home.” Then he turned his focus to Steven. “And I know we are all especially grateful everyone sitting here is happy and healthy.” Once more, he glanced around the table. “So, let’s give thanks to God for not only this delicious food, but also for a wonderful family.”
A chorus of Amens sounded from the table.
“Well, now. Let’s eat,” Steven said, digging into the green beans.
As always, dinner was loud, but it was a distant drone to Chris while he studied Bronte. She’d doused her mashed potatoes with a disgusting amount of gravy, and it didn’t escape his attention how she cut her eyes to him as she placed the gravy boat back down. He smiled, but she twisted away from him, talking to Shelley instead.
The house quieted down after dinner, and everyone dispersed to different rooms of the house. Shelley didn’t feel well, so Tommy scooted her out of the house with Zoe on his hip. Chris spent about an hour with Luke before Amanda and Fitz took the boys home. They were going away the following day and needed to get to bed early.
So, with nothing to do, Chris left a sleeping Steven in the living room and made his way to the kitchen, where Bronte and Pattie were finishing up with the dishes.
“Need any help?” he asked.
Bronte’s back was to him as she said, “Not anymore,” and slammed the cutlery drawer shut.
“It’s good to know you still have a voice.”
She spun to him, dropping the towel from her shoulder to the counter, narrowing her gaze so he felt like a schoolboy in trouble. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said to her mom, then kissed her cheek and brushed past Chris with barely an inch of space between them. “Excuse me.”
With a glimpse to Pattie, who only slanted her head in Bronte’s direction in the universal Go after her! sign, he stepped back into the living room in time to see Bronte slip out the front door.
