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CHAPTER26
SEVEN YEARS
Later that evening, we gathered in the kitchen at the small oval table. Only this time, Austin sat to my immediate left.
“We need a bigger table,” Mom declared, setting the prime rib in the center. Denver sliced into the succulent meat with a carving knife, devouring the visual display with his indigo eyes. He had a fit body—trim, but not svelte like Jericho. By the time my mom was finished with him, he was going to need to upgrade his shirt size.
No one dressed up for dinner. Denver sported an orange Atari T-shirt and Reno wore long sleeves. It was thin, breathable material, but I couldn’t figure out why he’d dress like that in summer. I hadn’t noticed any scars or tattoos, but it did give him a more serious air of authority. Austin had mentioned Reno was the most obedient wolf in the pack, and I wondered how the family dynamic affected the oldest brother who was used to being in charge and looking after his younger siblings.
Maizy sat beside Ivy, who placed a spoonful of cucumber salad onto her plate. Maizy loved vegetables, but she didn’t look crazy about the meat. We also had homemade mashed potatoes, and Austin looked like he was in heaven as he devoured my mom’s home cooking. He used to eat dinner with us at least three times a week, and I could tell each bite took him down memory lane.
Mom periodically described how she seasoned the asparagus, or the technique she used to grill the French bread, just so everyone would compliment her cooking all over again.
Totallyeating up all the attention.
“You going back to work?” I asked, sipping my tea.
“I’m not sure what to do,” she said with a click of her tongue. “The house is paid off and I’ve been thinking about selling. Too many memories.”
“You’re living with us,” Wheeler said. “No arguments. If I can eat like this for the rest of my life, then I’m going to die a happy man.”
Mom beamed and tried to refocus on my question. “I’m too young for social security, but I do have a little money tucked away to live on. Not enough to keep up with the bills, so I guess I have no choice but to work.”
Jericho quickly wiped a napkin across his mouth and pushed away from the cabinet where he’d been eating. “I have to head out. I’ve got a gig tonight and I’m already running late for sound check.”
His brown hair had been gelled and styled in that sexy “I don’t give a shit” way, with strands of at least two shades of brown. His jeans were loose and black with a few chains going around the back, and his sleeveless shirt had the name of some band I’d never heard of before. Not to mention he wore a smudge of black liner that made his green eyes pop.
Jericho leaned around to kiss my mom appreciatively on the cheek before heading out the door. “Thanks, Miss Knight.” He strutted out the door and Mom looked wistfully at her plate.
MissKnight. I knew what she was thinking. She had been called Mrs. Knight for years, and even after my dad left, she never corrected people. That’s just what women her age were assumed to be. It had taken three years before she stopped wearing her wedding ring.
Reno stood up and filled his empty plate with seconds. “The new house needs a paint job,” he informed Austin. “We can hire someone to do the exterior, but you need to figure out if you also want them to paint the inside. We patched up some of the holes in the wall. I don’t know what the fuck happened in there, but it looked like a barroom brawl.”
“I can help,” Mom volunteered. “Ivy can come along and we girls will see what needs to be done. I’ve laid my own flooring, installed crown molding, and even wallpapered three rooms.”
“True story,” I said, chewing a piece of bread. “Don’t even get her started on landscaping. You have no idea who you’re messing with; my mom can wallpaper Alcatraz and you’d think it was a bed and breakfast.”
She slapped my hand jokingly and I smirked, sipping on my glass of sweet tea.
“I’d appreciate that, Lynn,” Austin said.
Awkward.
Austin had always called her Mom.Always. It was never Mrs. Knight or even by her first name. That’s just how he saw her. Maybe he felt like he had disappointed her and his privileges were revoked.
Mom tapped her fork on her plate, pushing around the cucumbers. I don’t think she knew how to go about addressing the topic, but I could tell it was on her mind.
“Damn, this is fucking good,” Wheeler exclaimed from the counter he sat on. “If you don’t go back to work, then I’ll hire you as our personal chef,” he offered, wiping the back of his wrist across his mouth. Good thing he kept his circle beard short; the idea of men getting food in their facial hair repulsed me.
“Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” she replied.
“Dead serious,” he said, lifting his light brown eyes to hers.
“You need a job to be able to pay her,” Austin suggested, chewing off a bite of bread.
Wheeler’s posture stiffened and his lips thinned. “How about we take this conversation offline? ’Preciate ya,” he said in low words.
I lightly stepped on Austin’s foot beneath the table and got the weirdest vibe from him when he looked at me. The alpha didn’t know how to react with a woman silently telling him to shut up.
