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Tenley finally broke her gaze away from Irene and slid it in my direction. She gave me an apologetic smile. Which drew the attention of her grandma. Attention that up to this point, I’d been so happy to avoid.
I watched Irene, waiting for the inevitable stare that would come once she locked onto the left side of my face. Everyone did it. Everyone except for Tenley.
Her eyes slowly scanned my body, which felt strange with how similar they were to Tenley’s. Eventually, her gaze stopped at the scar, and instead of turning my face away like I used to, I just watched her in return. Waiting in awkward silence.
Her grandma suddenly leaned forward and whispered, quite loudly, “He has a very, very nice mustache. Reminds me of a certain, very sexy character from your grandpa’s favorite western movie.”
I raised my brows, shocked with how bold and blunt Irene was, as Tenley’s cheeks burned bright red. She refused to look at me, giggling though. Frank leaned back against the couch and mindlessly shook his head, used to this woman’s antics it seemed.
Tenley’s soft voice pierced through the silence. “I told him that once. All he did was wink.” She rolled her eyes as I slowly grinned to myself.
Yes, all I had done was wink when she’d told me I looked like Doc Holliday. Did she think, especially at that time, that I would let on how much of an ego boost that was? Nah, I’d maintained my cool, but the little dance I did in the bathroom that night definitely was something I would keep a secret. And now, it wasn’t just Tenley who’d made the connection. Success.
“Anyway, what should we order?” her grandma asked, returning the conversation to her original focus.
Order? I furrowed my brows, confused.
“Well, Weston and I are actually going to dinner. Can we finish this conversation after?” Tenley replied.
“You are? Oh, perfect! We will join you! I want to get to know this new boyfriend of yours.” Irene clapped her hands together and shakily stood up. Was she really older than Tenley’s parents? She certainly had a ton of pep in her step.
“Grammy, I mean, it’s a date so—”
“Make it a triple date!” Irene cut Tenley off and looked at her dad. “Charlie, are you feeling up for a trip into town?”
Tenley’s father coughed and cleared his throat. He did not look like he was feeling up for something like this. “I guess I could handle an hour or so,” he quietly wheezed. Rosemary glanced at her husband, widening her eyes in disbelief.
“Perfect! So, where’s this dinner date at?” Irene turned her gaze to mine, raising her brows and waiting for an answer.
Glancing at my watch, I sighed. “It’s past our reservation time, so we won't get in anymore,” I calmly replied, even though I was quite disappointed.
“Well, we could just put ourselves on the waitlist.” She tugged Tenley’s arm.
“It’s at Jack’s less than a week before Christmas. They don’t have a waitlist available from now until the new year because of how busy it gets,” Tenley said, sighing in defeat.
“Oh.” Her grandma clicked her tongue. “Well, let’s have something delivered here, then! Where else is there?”
I furrowed my brows, once again confused. Did places deliver? At least to my knowledge, there wasn’t anything like that.
“Irene, they don’t have delivery here. We could see how busy the Center Street Diner is, but with the Christmas festival starting tomorrow, our little town is quite swamped,” Rosemary answered, and Irene shook her head.
“Well, then I can whip something up, and we could play a card game after?” Irene offered.
“I’ve got leftovers in the fridge. Let’s just heat those up, since I’m assuming Tenley and Weston are hungry ,too.” Rosemary stood up from the recliner and walked toward me. Pausing, she whispered, “Leave your hat on the coat rack, you might as well make yourself comfortable. Irene wants to get to know you.” Then she continued into the kitchen. That sounded ominous, especially since I knew it wasn’t just Irene who was curious about me.
Chapter 3
“We aren’t using your home brewed rules, Weston. I’m not losing again,” Tenley stated after the food was cleared. Her mom was shuffling some UNO cards and glanced at me.
“Oooo, I like the possibility of beating Tenley at this game. Do explain.” Rosemary grinned, and Tenley groaned.
“Does she normally win?” I asked curiously as Rosemary slowly passed out the cards. Her dad leaned back against his recliner, exhausted from dinner, and not joining us.
Tenley’s mom and Irene laughed. “All the time!” Rosemary replied, and slid me my stack of cards. I lifted a teasing brow toward my girl and smirked.
“Really? Because last time I played this game with her, my nine year old nephew even beat her,” I teased, and Tenley frowned deeply.
“No way.” Irene grinned.
