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He was joking . . . kind of. Beau walked onto the front porch, leaned to the side, and peered between the white lace curtains fluttering in the breeze against the screen of the open window. Lights were on inside, and there was movement—tall silhouettes moved to and fro, from one room to another, then back. The tantalizing aroma of fried shrimp wafted outside, making Beau’s stomach rumble impolitely.
“Just knock on the door, Dad.”
Beau cut his eyes over his shoulder at Cal. “Give me a minute, okay?”
He turned back to the door, dragged a hand through his hair, and flicked a small clump of mud off the hem of his T-shirt. It was difficult to spiff up too much. He’d spent the better part of the day on the water, flipping over cages, inspecting mesh bags for damage, and securing new lines. And his shirt and jeans showed it. It’d been hot, grueling work, and more times than not, he’d caught his mind drifting away from his work to thoughts of Kit.
He’d found it difficult to concentrate on much of anything after Kit had told him she loved him. His mind—and heart—had spilled over with the memory of how good she’d felt in his arms, her soft, warm weight pressing against him, and it’d been even harder to forget that he’d agreed not to pursue her for the time being.
The polite smile he’d summoned to his lips fell. He understood and even agreed with what Kit had decided, but that didn’t make it any less painful to follow through . . . or, more to the point, to back off. And then, the very day after Kit had left him, Viv had called and, according to Cal, had summoned them all over with Royal’s blessing.
He ran his hand through his hair again, smoothing it down, an excited shiver of hope that Kit had changed her mind running through him. And maybe she had. Maybe she—
The door swung open, and Beau stepped back, his eyes widening, at the sight of Royal in the open doorway.
Royal frowned. “You plan on standing out here on my porch forever, son?” His lips twitched. “Or you actually gonna come in?”
Beau smiled despite the heat rising in his cheeks. “I’d like to come in, sir, if the invitation still stands?”
Royal grinned. “That it does.” He thrust out a hand. “I’m glad to have you and hope you brung your appetite.”
Beau hesitated, then shook his hand. Royal’s firm but friendly grip put his mind at ease. “It’s nice of you to have us over, Royal. We’ve had a long day on the water, and if the food tastes as good as it smells, we’re anxious to dig in.”
“Well, that’s good,” Royal said. “Cuz we got a ton of fixings.” He stepped back and gestured for Beau to precede him, then smiled at Cal and Nate. “Y’all come on in and get comfortable.”
At first, it didn’t seem as though that would be possible. The small kitchen was full. Every inch of the countertops was covered with large plates of fried shrimp, clusters of steamed oysters, baked potatoes, buttered corn, collard greens seasoned with fatback, and jugs of sweet tea, and the wooden table in the center of the linoleum floor seemed gargantuan for the small space.
“Dad dug out the hidden leaves, dusted them off, and extended the table just for y’all,” Viv said, striding around the table toward Beau. “We’ve been looking forward to having you over.”
Beau smiled, noting the sincerity in her grin and her relaxed expression. The dark circles under her eyes, which had grown increasingly prominent over the past few weeks, had lightened, her cheeks were a bit more freckled, as though she’d been out in the sun for an extended time, and she looked well rested.
“I noticed the front yard and porch have been overhauled.” He tipped his chin at her. “I’m guessing that was your handiwork?”
“Yep.” Viv grinned. “Mine and Dad’s and”—she gestured over her shoulder—“Mackey’s and Kit’s.”
Beau glanced at the other side of the kitchen, and his chest warmed at the sight of Kit. She stood in front of an opened drawer by the sink, gathering utensils and helping Mackey count out how many glasses of ice to prepare.
He tore his attention away from her and refocused on Viv. “It looks beautiful.”
“That mailbox you put out there turned out to be a nice touch,” Royal said, striding past Beau into the kitchen. “We’re mighty proud of it—especially Kit.”
As her name was mentioned, Kit turned around, and those beautiful eyes of hers met Beau’s. “It does look nice,” she said, smiling briefly at him before glancing over at Viv. “Beau was thinking of Viv when he installed it. Said he hoped it would be an improvement she’d welcome.”
Viv studied Kit’s expression silently, then glanced at Beau. “Whatever your reasons, it is appreciated.”
There was no resentment or residual anger in Viv’s voice—simply gratitude.
Beau smiled. “I was happy to do it.”
“Well,” Royal said, clamping a hand on Beau’s shoulder, “now that we’ve thanked you for it properly, let’s all grab a seat, bless the food, and dig in. I think you’ve got a teenager chomping at the bit to eat.”
It took several minutes for everyone to maneuver around the table, choose a seat, and get settled, and a few more minutes for Mackey to fill glasses with ice, pour sweet tea in each, and place one at each setting, but before long, all seven of them were seated comfortably—and closely—around the kitchen table. Royal, seated at the head of the table, said the blessing, and everyone dug in.
The clanks of forks against plates, the clinks of ice in glasses, and low murmurs of chatter filled the small kitchen as everyone ate. Cal, exhausted and ravenous after the long day of work, devoured his shrimp, oysters, and potato, went back for seconds, and made room for a third helping of shrimp.
“Slow down, son,” Nate said, laughing. “You’re gonna eat Royal out of house and home.”
Cal grinned around the last bite of shrimp and rubbed his full belly. “That was delicious, Mr. Royal. Thank you.”
