Page 88 of Stirring Up Love
Stomping her feet against the cold, Simone popped her head back in. “Finn, can you help? I can’t babysit her and find the DVDs.”
“What about me?” Chantal asked.
Simone flicked her eyes toward Shawn, then jerked her chin at Finn.
“Oh right. Leaving these two dudes alone might not be the best idea,” Chantal said aloud, earning an eye roll from Simone. Discreet? Maybe not. But yeah, he didn’t trust this dude not to dump him in a snowdrift somewhere as a show of Hawksburg solidarity.
Finn followed Simone into the supercharged snow globe. The ground nearly hit his face when he hopped down out of the outrageously jacked-up truck—seriously, was the guy trying to compensate for something?—and by the time he recovered, the women were halfway to the house.
A rut in the driveway sent him into giggles when he thwarted its attempt to trip him. Simone shot him a narrow look over her shoulder. “Not you too.”
“Not me.” He shook his head and realized he was still shaking it. To cover, he jogged up and took Alisha’s elbow.
“Thank you, my kind sir,” she said.
He bobbed into a curtsy midstride, and stumbled. “Milady.”
Simone shook her head, fitting the key in the front lock. “You two.”
“Us two,” Alisha said, and tipped her head to his shoulder. “Us two.” They giggled.
Leaning an arm against the doorframe to steady the porch, Finn said, “So your grandparents live here? Very quaint.”Quaint.He chuckled. What a word. But it fit the house: porch lights flanking the glass-paned front door. A pair of potted evergreens. Homey, in the truest sense of the word.
“This is new.” Alisha tapped a jingle bell hanging over the door knocker, and it jangled loudly.
Grabbing the bell to stop the ringing, Finn said, “Shh. You’re going to wake the parentals.”
“Grandparentals,” Alisha corrected. They both dissolved into laughter in the vestibule.
“Why don’t you hot messes go grab some water? I’m gonna get the DVDs, and then we can jet.” Back in her hometown again, Simone had pulled away. Not even a backward glance as he stood in the entryway, lost.
“This way.” Alisha pointed him down the hall. “C’mon.” She tugged on the end of his scarf until his feet got the memo. But a wall full of photos brought him up short. This was the hardest part in family homes. The pictures. The history.
Hands in his pockets, he stared down a man about his age. Alisha came back to stand at his shoulder and shook her finger. “No. Don’t look at that loser.”
“Your dad?” His eyes were still on the photo. Dismantling it. Searching for the why. Knowing from experience he’d find nothing but a hollow frame beneath.
“Marginally.”
That broke the spell, and he gave his head a shake, meeting her eyes, but she turned away and started walking. He spoke to her back. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Alisha waved a hand, still moving. “Best thing that ever happened to us.”
“And that’s your mom?”
She stopped.
“She’s beautiful,” he said. “I’m sure it’s hard, to not have her here for this.”
Alisha cut him a sharp look over her shoulder. “Simone told you?”
“Yes, she ...” Had he already revealed too much of their bond? “I really am sorry.”
“No. It’s fine.” Alisha leaned a shoulder against the wall, bumping one of the frames askew. “Well, it’s not ...” She rolled her lips together.“Anyway, she keeps things close to her chest. We both do.” She huffed a laugh. “So I’m surprised she told you, is all.”
Then she was off down the hallway, and he followed, more slowly. Piecing together a clearer image of Simone. The woman he yearned to build more memories with.
When he got to the kitchen, Alisha was fumbling with the tap.
