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A snort from Jace.
Alabama rolls her eyes. “Good lord, Greyson. Please, spare them.”
“You really need Jesus, Griff,” Emmy Lou says, her prim feathers ruffled.
Griff chuckles, his job done.
“Would you like a drink?” Sal asks, doing her best to change the subject. “We have alcohol, alcohol and alcohol.”
“Sweet tea,” Alabama says.
“Do you want me to fire up the grill, darlin’?” Luke asks.
Sal sips her drink, feeling content, bright and buzzy. “Yes, please.”
Luke drops a kiss to her temple, grabs the meat from the fridge. “Get the tongs, would you, Jace?”
Griff rubs his hands together, his eyes gleeful, ready to harass. “I wanna see this damn bike Seth’s been talkin’ about.”
“ATV,” Luke says unhappily.
“Got ’em, let’s go,” Jace says, snapping the tongs together, and he and Griff follow Luke out.
Alabama adds the food she’s brought to the buffet line. “Oh, thank god,” Sal says. She lifts the lid on the Styrofoam containers only to be hit with a waft of delicious scents. Cornbread biscuits, collard greens, macaroni and cheese, potato salad. “You brought sides.”
Alabama flushes. “We got ’em from the deli. Lord, I probably bought up the whole store. I’m sorry. We’ve been so busy with the honeymoon and the album.” Her gray eyes light up. “And we’re buyin’ a house.”
Sal pours herself a second cup of sangria and hops up, sitting on the counter. “Really? Congrats, Al. That’s great.”
“How excitin’,” Emmy Lou drawls. “Where?”
Sal notes the smile on Emmy Lou’s face. Honest. Pleasant. Emmy Lou’s been slow to warm up to Alabama after everything that’s happened, but she’s gotten there.
“East Nashville,” Alabama says. “It’s an older place, a fixer-upper. I just can’t wait to get my hands on it.” She lifts her eyes to the kitchen, taking in the beams and the crown molding, then blushes. “Though heaven knows when we’ll get around to it.”
Emmy Lou laughs. “Sounds like y’all are still in the honeymoon phase.”
Sal, lifting the glass to her lips, says, “Honeymoon’s the best part.”
“If that ain’t the truth.” Emmy Lou smiles, but her voice has taken on a sad tone.
“I imagine y’all still in it?” Alabama smiles, taking Sal’s attention away from Emmy Lou. “You and Luke.”
She blushes, thinking of the underwear she picked up off of the pendant light this afternoon. “We may or may not have our moments.”
At that, as if Luke’s been waiting for the perfect time to underscore her words, a fireball goes up in the backyard with a great whoosh.
Alabama hisses under her breath, swearing.
Emmy Lou squeals.
Sal drops the cup from her lips. She can practically feel the heat on her face from the grill. Hear Seth’s maniacal laughter from the backyard. Smoke curls beneath a window. “Jesus.”
Alabama’s lips twitch. “Think we need to go oversee this so they don’t burn the place down?”
“Good idea.” Sal slips off the counter, only to find that the lightheadedness is back. She palms the counter to catch herself and exhales.
Alabama looks at her. “All okay?”
Sal laughs. “That’s some strong sangria.”
“C’mon, sugar.” Emmy Lou links arms with Sal and the women slip out the back door.
