Page 75 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
Flynn walks in carrying plates. “I remember a lot of meals here.”
The West siblings, happy and nostalgic, make it easier to push unsettling thoughts aside.
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” Flynn nods, carefully placing the china before each chair.
I had tried to use paper plates from the pantry, but Rose smacked my hand and demanded fancy china. We are seriously going to eat Chinese takeout on bone china. I gave myself a near migraine with the eyeroll I sent Rose’s way.
“When our parents passed and Holt moved us out here, he always made sure we ate dinner together. Sharp at seven.” Flynn says the last line in a deep imitation of Holt.
We all laugh.
Rose follows her brother, fixing the placement of the dishes to her standards. “Yep. Even though Holt was always busy working the ranch, as well as making sure the West Oil board members weren’t screwing around, he made sure we had dinner together.” She frowns, as if suddenly appreciating how difficult that had been for her older brother. “Every night.”
“Yeah, well, there were a lot of basic meals and takeout.” Holt ambles in, arms laden with silverware and cloth napkins.
“You were busy making wedding funds,” I joke, nudging his side. “I’m sure no one expected you to turn gourmet cook as well.”
Thankfully he smiles back. Maybe I haven’t screwed this up after all.
“We sure didn’t make it easy on you.” Rose laughs. “All those private schools I got kicked out of.”
“All those parties I went to,” Flynn adds.
“Ah, who cares?” Holt steps between the two, an arm around each. “Now look at you.” He squeezes Flynn in closer. “You own a successful business and managed to get a bona fide genius to agree to marry you.” Rose gets squeezed in next. “And now this one is about to graduate early from college.”
“Wait, what?” Flynn leans forward, looking at Rose. “Since when?”
Congratulations surround Rose, who tries to play it off, but who also can’t help the big grin on her face. Holt settles back, also smiling, obviously enjoying having both his siblings under the same roof again.
Holt West is one damn good man.
And I want to jump his bones. Like, pronto.
He catches my eye and my look must translate because he turns red.
Trish comes in with two pitchers of beer from the keg Flynn had brought from Clear Lake. A NASA rocket scientist, space suit developers, and mission managers got into the beer making game, and their company, True Anomaly, makes some pretty badass beer.
Meanwhile, Holt nearly chokes when he glances down at Trish’s spiked high heels on the dining room’s hardwood. “Come on, y’all. Let’s eat.” She slides gracefully into a chair and places a napkin on her lap. “I’m starving.”
I highly doubt the petite Southerner will eat more than what I consider a snack-like portion, but I sit down and start opening boxes. Everyone grabs a seat and tucks in.
The beer flows as we empty multiple Chinese food containers. We all laugh as people give me shit for being a maid of honor-zilla. Holt gets shit for living in a '70s museum for so long. And we all give Rose shit just for being Rose.
It is one of the best meals I’ve ever had. And I didn’t even get a spring roll.
Trish gets up, leaves and comes back in, somehow managing to walk like a lady in her stripper shoes while Holt’s eyes once again narrow on her heels. “Let’s not forget the fortune cookies!”
“Yum, gimme.” I reach out but Trish pulls the bag out of reach. Glaring, I point my finger at her tiny-ass frame. “Listen, short stack. I’ve had a day. And since Holt couldn’t bake me chocolate chips because the kitchen isn’t up and running yet and someone stole my spring roll”—my eyes narrow dangerously—“I will seriously cut a bitch if I don’t get a fortune cookie. Pronto.”
“Sheesh.” Trish tosses the bag to me and takes a step back, hands up. “Take it.”
“Wait.” Rose tilts her head at her brother. “You were going to make Jules Grandma’s chocolate chips?”
Holt shifts in his seat. Poor guy. I didn’t mean to call him out like that. “Ease up, girl. Nothing wrong with a man who knows how to bake.” I pull apart the plastic wrap around the cookie. “No shame in the man-baking game.”
Jackie laughs. “You’re so weird.”
