My stomach did a little flip. I didn't stand a chance when he started talking mushy. "Okay, truce," I agreed.
He reached across and ran his hand up my thigh. Other parts started to feel mushy too. I was suddenly aware of his sexy smell mixed with the scent of leather upholstery. And reminded that we hadn't had any alone time in two days. Maybe it was time to stop fighting and make up. At least for tonight. Mark was leaving for Atlanta tomorrow and wouldn't be back until next weekend.
"So what should I know about your family that I don't already know?" he asked.
His hand continued to stroke my thigh. It was hard to think straight. "Well," I began, "we're going to The Meadows where The Grands and The Parents all live. We'll be barbecuing at The Parents' duplex. They live in adjoining duplexes and share a backyard."
"Aren't your parents divorced?" he asked.
"Yep, and they live next door to each other with their spouses. Weird, huh?"
"Different," he replied.
"My mom and my stepfather, Dave, live on one side and my dad and my stepmother, Anne, live on the other. The Grands live down the street in the assisted living facility. Granddaddy Hacker and Uncle Grover in one unit and Aunt Pearl and Mammaw in another," I explained.
"Sounds like a good arrangement," he said.
"Completely dysfunctional," I replied, adding, "but it's fun to watch."
"Will your sister be there?"
I nodded. "She's bringing Max. She'll also have my two nephews and niece and her husband, Dan."
"Can't wait," Mark replied.
"You won't be bored. I can promise you that."
* * *
It was another hour before we pulled into the overly manicured residential golfing, and assisted-living community of The Meadows. The Parents lived on a cul-de-sac in a cream-colored rambler ranch duplex with red shutters. The lawn was immaculately cut, the horizontal lines standing out like an army in formation, and the landscaping was lush and colorful. All thanks to the steep monthly community fees. I didn't see my sister's van out front, and I gave silent thanks for a few minutes of peace, and hopefully a big glass of wine, before her brood arrived.
"Hope you're ready for this," I said as I opened the car door.
"I've faced tougher opponents." Mark smiled.
I raised my eyebrow, but didn't say anything.
I approached my mother's door first and rang the bell. I had learned early on that to go to my father's first was some breach of unintelligible family etiquette.
I heard rustling, and then my mom's fluffy blond hair appeared behind the door as she unlocked the screen door. Who locks the screen door? What's the point?
"Hey, sweetie, how was your trip?" She held me to her, and I smelled White Linen. Some things never changed.
My stepfather, Dave, stood behind us and reached around to shake Mark's hand. Once the introductions were done, my mom grabbed Mark's arm and led him through the kitchen out onto the back porch where the barbecue was getting started.
"You and I have some catchin' up to do," she said. "I want to know everything about you."
Mark glanced uneasily back at me. I gave him a thumbs-up. This wasn't going to be pretty.
My father and Anne were on the patio wrestling Grands and tending the grill. "No more beer, Granddaddy," Anne called softly.
"Take one more drink, old man, and you're going back home," my mom barked as she passed by him.
"That ain't no way to speak to yer elder, girl," Granddaddy hollered back. "Why I oughta put you over my knee."
"Now, now," I soothed, "let's not get all bent outta joint. I just got back."
Temporarily distracted, Granddaddy's face lit up. "There's my Queenie Baby! The family rock star. Girl I'm so proud of you my buttons are just fit to bust."
"Thank you," I replied, giving him a peck on the cheek.
"Say, did you happen to pick up any wacky weed while you were down there," Granddaddy asked loudly.
I saw my father roll his eyes as he came forward to give me a hug.
"No, Granddaddy, I didn't pick up any wacky weed," I replied.
"'Cause you know it's legal here now," he said with a nod. "I'm thinkin' 'bout gettin' me a card seein' how I got glaucoma an' all."
"I say we grow some out back," chimed in Aunt Pearl.
"Now yer talkin'," Granddaddy cried.
My father raised his eyes heavenward. "You can't grow it, Granddaddy," I said. "It's still against the law."
Granddaddy made a face of disgust. "Hmph! Dad-burned laws. Back in my day a man could grow what he wanted on his land."
"You live in a condo. It's not your land," my dad pointed out.
Granddaddy waved his hand. "Don' bother me with details. This here idea's got potential. Might just be better 'n sellin' jerky," he mused.
I left Granddaddy and Aunt Pearl discussing where they could buy marijuana plants and grabbed two beers out of the little patio fridge. Time to rescue Mark from my mom. I handed Mark a beer and asked about Ashley's whereabouts.
"She's on her way. She said she's bringing Sally because you said you were watchin' her for the week."
Argh! The last thing I needed was a big smelly dog in my house for a week.
"And don't forget you've got Granddaddy and Grover Friday and Saturday night for the fair," Mom added.
We all looked over at Granddaddy and Uncle Grover. They were engaged in some sort of agility test involving standing on one foot and touching their fingers to their noses.
"Yeah, about that…" I began.
My mom held up a pink and white acrylic talon. "Don't even try it. They're yours for the weekend. I'll have my hands full with Aunt Pearl and Mammaw. Not exactly my idea of a romantic weekend away, having two old ladies in the next room."
"And Ashley and Dan will have the kids with them," I said with a sigh.
"Actually, the kids are going to Dan's mom's."
I brightened at her words.
But Mom squashed my hopes. "They only have one bed. There's no room for anybody else. Besides, they need some alone time."
I gave her a questioning look.
"I think the blush is off the rose if you get my drift," she added cryptically.
I really didn't. My mom spoke in euphemisms from the last century. But it didn't matter. In the distance, I could hear my sister screeching at one of her kids as they made their way through the house.
Look out, the drama queen had arrived.
"I don't care, Dan. You can't leave the dogs in the car even with the windows down. All we need is another visit from the police," she chided.
Sally and Max appeared behind Ashley, straining at the leashes held by my nephews, Jason and Josh. Sally took one look at me, gave a big happy bark, and made a b-line straight for me. Seven-year-old, Josh, held on like a trooper as he was dragged across the patio by the eighty pound dog. The leash hooked around the leg of the prep table next to the grill and ten pounds of hamburger patties and two dozen hotdogs crashed to the floor.
Bam! Sally jumped right onto my chest and knocked me to the ground. Luckily, I fell off the patio into the thick grass. She gave me a big sloppy lick on the mouth and dashed off to grab her share of the hotdogs and hamburgers.
I looked up. Mark grinned down at me.
"That's some dog. You okay?" He offered me a hand.
Anne and my mom were trying to shoo the dogs away from the meat. Sally grabbed two hotdogs and dashed around the yard playing keep-away with Dan.
Max, on the other hand, had chosen a different strategy. He was standing on top of the large pile of meat, growling whenever Anne or my mom tried to move him.
"Diana, come get your dog, or I'm going to let Granddaddy have his gun back," Anne cried.
My dad grabbed a broom and pushed Max off the pile of meat. Max, knowing he was beat, grabbed a hotdog as a consolation prize and trotted over to see me.
"You're a bad boy," I said looking down at him.
The hotdog was sticking out of the side of
his mouth like a cigar. He wagged his tail. I knew better than to reach down and pet him with a hotdog in his mouth.
"How's it goin' boy?" Mark asked in that voice you use when you're talking to babies or animals.
Max dropped his hotdog and jumped up on Mark's legs to give him a hug. He wasn't a particularly affectionate dog, but he occasionally deigned to give me or a favored guest a hug.
"Hey, don't I get a hug?" I said.
Max let go of Mark and sat back down on his haunches. Instead of jumping up to give me a hug, he lifted his right paw indicating I was welcome to shake his paw, but a hug was not in the picture.
"A handshake? Really? That's all I get after a week away," I said bending down to shake his paw. "I'll remember this when you want a treat later."
He grabbed his hotdog and trotted off.
I glanced over at Mark.
"Dogs and women," he said with a shrug.
When the mess was finally cleaned up, Ashley brought Dan over for an introduction. Surprisingly, Dan and Mark had a lot to talk about. I wasn't sure if I should be worried about that or not. My brother-in-law put the "red" in redneck. He chewed tobacco, hunted woodland creatures, and ate jerky by the truckload. He wasn't a bad guy, just not my type. Kind of a cross between Cousin Eddie from the Vacation movies and the Marlboro Man.
I rolled my eyes at the enthralling discussion on the Wild Game Dinner Ashley and Dan had attended last week at the Leipsic Fire Hall.
"They got muskrat, beaver, wild boar. You name it!" Dan said proudly. He took a sip from his red Solo cup. No telling what was in it.
"Never tried muskrat," Mark said with actual interest, "but I have tried alligator."
Dan's eyes lit up. "What's that taste like?"
"Tasted like chicken to me," Mark said with a laugh.
Dan guffawed and spit tobacco onto the pristine lawn. Ashley looked like she wanted to punch him. It looked more like Ashley was interested in some alone time for herself instead of with Dan.
Mark turned to Ashley. "So are you a big fan of wild game?"
"Not so much. But I do like a nice deer tenderloin. I usually volunteer to help clean up with the other wives. The men are the servers. Believe it or not, the Wild Game Dinner is never dull," Ashley added.
"No, sir," chimed in Dan, "although this year I got stuck servin' the salad. I got bumped off of rolls because Biden showed up." Dan spit again. It was hard to tell if the spit was a political commentary or just spit.
"Biden?" Mark asked.
"The Veep," Dan replied, tucking some more chew into his front lip. "The man always hogs the rolls. Ain't no one else allowed to serve the rolls. I remember goin' to the dinner with my dad, and there was Joe servin' rolls. My pop said Joe liked servin' the rolls 'cause there was less chance of gettin' his white shirt dirty. It's hard to stay clean servin' up muskrat."
"The Vice-President was at your Wild Game Dinner last week?" Mark asked.
Ashley nodded. "He's there almost every year. He's a very nice man," she added.
"He's alright," Dan said with a dismissive wave of his big calloused hand. "I'm just not partial to his politics. But he can serve a roll as good as the next man."
Ashley dashed away to deal with one of her wayward children, and Dan wandered over to the grill.
"Quite a pair," Mark said.
I shook my head. "Don't I know it."
"So Vice-President Biden, who has been asked by the President to investigate gun violence, was serving rolls at a hunting fundraiser?" Mark asked.
I nodded. "Guess what they auction off every year to raise money?"
Mark raised his eyebrow.
"Hunting rifles," I said.
"Wow," he replied. "Gotta love small town politics."
"We grew up country. Guns were a part of the landscape. There was always a loaded rifle on our back porch just in case. But that wouldn't be PC today," I said.
"Just in case of what?" he asked.
"In case of squirrel," I replied with a laugh.
"Your dad doesn't look like a squirrel man," Mark said. We both looked over at my dad in his 'Kiss the Cook' apron.
"No, it was my mom's gun," I said.
"That explains it."
"So has my crazy family scared you off yet?"
He leaned down and kissed me. I felt all fluttery inside. How did he do that?
"Not a chance."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The ride back to Annapolis got off to a rocky start. Sally was afraid of car rides, and it took Dan, Mark and a hotdog to get her into the back seat. Max did not look happy to have company; I think he was tired of Sally the Scaredy Cat. They finally settled down and drifted off into doggie dreamland just as we crossed The Narrows. I had spent many a summer evening playing at the deck bars and restaurants that dotted the narrow strip of land a few miles east of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Mark and I chatted about school, old friends, and wacky relatives. It sounded like his kin were almost as interesting as mine.
It was after nine when we pulled up to my condo. I saw my downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Kester's, curtain move slightly. Not a good sign, I thought. The last thing I needed was another run in with that old bat. While Mark carried in my luggage, I took the dogs for a quick walk around the block. Max trotted confidently at my side while Sally alternately cowered and strained at the leash at each new sound and smell. I tried to sneak past Mrs. Kester's door, but Sally caught a whiff of something and started barking like crazy. For such a wimp, Sally had an impressive bark.
"Woof! Woof!" she barked as I tugged at her leash trying to get her up the stairs.
But Sally wasn't having any of it. She was determined to bark down Mrs. Kester's door. There was a rustling, and then Mrs. Kester's weathered face appeared in the crack.
"Shut that dog up before I call the pound!" she yelled.
Sally continued to bark and began pawing at Mrs. Kester's door.
Mark appeared on the landing in front of my door and motioned me inside. I pointed at Sally.
He came downstairs and grabbed her leash, giving it a hard tug. Sally didn't notice. She was determined to get inside Mrs. Kester's condo.
"I said to shut that dog up!" she repeated.
"I'm trying, Mrs. Kester. I don't know why she's acting this way," I said, pushing Sally's nose away from the crack in the door. "I think you'll have to pick her up," I said to Mark.
Mark gave me a look that said I'd owe him yet another one.
"I promise to make it worth your while," I joked in a hushed voice.
There was a snort from behind the door. "Not the first time she's said that, I'm sure," said Mrs. Kester, getting her dig in.
"You be quiet!" I shot back at her.
Sally was cut off in mid-bark when Mark grabbed her around the middle and hoisted her over his shoulder. No easy feat with an eighty-pound Lab. Her legs stuck out awkwardly, and she stared at me in surprise. Max looked at her like she was an insult to the dog world. No self-respecting dog would act like that.
"What was all that about?" Mark asked as he sat Sally down on my living room floor. She sniffed skittishly around the furniture before heading for the kitchen. Max was already on his perch looking out the window.
"The old witch probably has dead bodies in there."
Mark laughed. "I feel sorry for her."
"Well, don't," I replied. "She makes it a living hell here most days."
"Don't get all riled up." He walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me. "I seem to remember some promise of making it worth my while."
He nibbled at my lips, and I melted into his arms. A few minutes later, the nibbling had turned into a full blown make-out session.
"I also seem to remember a nice-looking bed being around here somewhere," Mark teased between kisses.
"Yes, but I need a bath before I climb between the sheets with you."
"Got room for two?" he asked hopefully.
"Nope, this is a plain-Jane condo. But I hear Mrs. Kester has a bathroo
m like the Taj Mahal. Maybe you'd like to try her tub?"
"Next time," he said, swatting my bottom.
"If you want to jump in the shower first, I'll open a bottle of wine and start some laundry."
"Deal." He kissed me hard, taking the opportunity for some more fondling.
I bustled around the kitchen for a few minutes, thinking about getting back into my daily routine. I was due at Mr. Pyres at ten, and I was planning to stop by to see Carol at Greene's Staffing on my way. I also still had a big fat check in my purse. I needed to cash that sucker before Phil and Roger changed their minds.
Mark came out wearing only a towel. He looked so good, I was temporarily distracted from thoughts of what I would do with all that money. All I could think about was what I'd do with all that man. I stepped up and nuzzled his cheek.
"Do I pass the sniff test?" he asked.
"Always," I replied. "It ought to be against the law for a man to smell as good as you."
He shook his head. "You say the strangest things."
"I can't be the first woman to tell you how good you smell," I insisted.
He thought about it for a second. "Yes, you are. Don't get me wrong. I've had compliments from women. But none of them have followed me around sniffing me." He laughed. "Not that I mind it."
"Well, I don't know how that can be. I must be special." I took one last appreciative sniff before heading to the bathroom, making sure to grab my wine glass on the way.
"Oh, you're special alright."
I shot him a look. "Don't give me any sass. You want to see me naked, right?"
He gave me an irreverent thumbs-up.
I giggled. I loved his silly side.
My bath lasted only as long as it took to finish my wine. I was relaxed bordering on sleepy when I climbed from the tub. I slipped on a silky robe and padded out to the living room. The lights were low. Mark was stretched out on the couch asleep, wearing only a pair of old sweat pants. Max was curled up at his feet. Sally was sprawled out on the floor next to him, her head stuffed under the couch.
I tried to step over Sally. I had this picture of me snuggling up against Mark on the couch. But as soon as I made a move to step over her, Sally jumped, hit her head on the bottom of the couch and started yelping. Mark stirred and opened one eye.
2 Queenie Baby - Out of Office Page 14