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“You wouldn’t!”
“I would. Keep your eyes off the neighbor’s ass, hussy.”
“You’re turning bitchy in your old age,” she quips, turning and heading towards the stairs.
“Ready?” Linkin asks, standing behind me and closing his door.
Ready? Is that a trick question? Ready for lunch? Ready to meet my family? Ready to do the horizontal mambo with my Greek God of a neighbor that could result in pregnancy; the one thing I wanted while fighting for my marriage?
Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but there’s only one answer to each of those questions.
Yes.
Ready or not, here I come.
* * *
The diner is packed with the Sunday lunch crowd and we have to wait a few minutes to get the big table. As soon as we walk through the door, all eyes are on me. Or more accurately, on Linkin.
“What? You’ve all seen him before. This time he just has more clothes on,” I say casually, finding a seat at the table.
“Hey, it’s the stripper,” Ryan says with a wide smile, extending his hand to Linkin and offering a shake.
“You’re really a stripper?” Dean asks. “I thought that was an accident.”
“He’s not really a stripper. He just stripped for Lexi because Grandma thought he was the stripper. But then the stripper showed up and Grandma wanted them to have a strip-off so we could see who was the best stripper,” AJ tells the table. You know, at Sunday lunch in a family restaurant.
“Stop saying stripper. It weirds me out,” Abby says, taking a sip of her water.
“He’d make a great stripper, though. He’s got moves,” Payton adds.
“I’d like to see these moves, son,” Grandpa hollers from the end of the table. “Maybe you could teach me a few things,” he adds with a wink.
“Dear God, can’t you all act normal for five seconds? You’re gonna make him run away screaming before the waitress hands us the menus,” I chastise the table.
It’s quiet for a few moments as everyone just stares at Linkin and me. Abby, the traitor, is trying to hide her giggle beside me.
“His abs are pure sin,” Grandma says, saluting Linkin and adding a wink for good measure.
“Grandma, you grabbed his butt,” Meghan reprimands.
“It was a very nice butt,” she rationalizes with an evil grin as she glances over her menu.
“So, Linkin, is it?” my dad asks from the opposite end of the table, clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversations have been going thus far.
“Yes, sir. Linkin Stone,” he says with not so much as a hitch in his voice. It’s as if my family’s brand of crazy doesn’t faze him in the least. Interesting.
“Nice to meet you. What is it that you do, exactly? Assuming you’re not really a stripper,” My dad says, a light blush creeping up his neck.
“I’m a mechanic and body specialist for Stapleton’s,” Linkin tells my dad and family, casually taking a sip of his ice water.
“Body specialist,” Jaime whispers to Payton who makes the Y-chromosomes at the table giggle.
“And you’re not a stripper?” AJ asks, seeking confirmation. Her eyes are bright and shining, a mischievous look on her pretty face.
“The only stripping I do is on a car,” Linkin tells her with a wink.
“And now I’m picturing him stripping on the hood of a car,” AJ mumbles to Meghan, who’s sitting to her right. She’s not quiet about it, so it shouldn’t surprise me that everyone at the table hears her comment. Especially Grandma.
