Page 8 of Fake Dating the SEAL
“Not we,” she rolled her eyes for real this time, “you. They’ve set their sights on you. My suspicion is after all these years, they no longer care that you’re a little older than me. You winked at me; in their minds, we’re as good as married with two point two kids and a dog. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” He handed her the first large doll with it’s flowing velvet robe and fur collar, really did look like the Ghost of Christmas Past from the old Christmas Carol movie. “I think it’s kind of sweet how much they care for you. Which means I’m going to consider it a compliment they think I’m good enough for you.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but anyone with the right chromosomes and no wedding ring would rank on their list of matches.”
“Ouch.” He handed her a smaller doll that was designed to sit on a ledge.
Looking around at her options, she decided to walk it over to the mantel.
“When I found that in a little shop in England, I thought of Maile. If I’d been hunting for the perfect gift I probably would never have found it, shopping is not my strength, but that doll just jumped out at me.” His smile showed the pride he felt at having given the Everrett matriarch a treasured gift.
Now she understood why this particular decoration was one of Maile’s favorites. When Maile had told her eons ago that it was a gift, Sara had assumed it was from one of her kids. She should have realized that as far as Maile was concerned, all her children’s friends—in and out of the military—were like her own children and the gift could have come from any one of them.
They’d succeeded in emptying two of the boxes when Ava came to help. By the time all the Santa, angels, and Father Christmas dolls were on display through out the family room, and a few in strategic places around the social areas of the house, the men in the other room were down to the last string of lights. Nick on his knees testing light bulbs, Doug standing a few feet from his brother-in-law with a fully lit string of lights hanging around his neck and extended in each arm, while Billy squatted low, meticulously connecting each bulb on the bottom branches.
When the three men eased back to admire their handy work, the whole room erupted in applause. The tree reached the ceiling and sparkled with an array of bright colors that danced across the walls. Having a pre-lit artificial tree was a heck of a lot easier, but the old fashioned bulbed strings of light in multi colors, carefully wrapped around the freshly cut tree could not be beat. She absolutely loved it. Now all she had to do was help with the ornament hanging and steer clear of all the single men in the place. Maybe her mother and Maile would give up on the matchmaking efforts. She blew out a sigh. And maybe she’d win the Irish Sweepstakes.
“Now what can I do?” Kenny came to stand next to Maile Everrett. He’d done his best to avoid Sara. Not that he didn’t enjoy her company, or appreciate another opportunity to sit and chat, but he also knew all too well that if given even a hint of interest, her mother and Billy’s mother would be plotting to hook the two of them up. While that wouldn’t be such a horrible thing, he did have quite a few years on Sara and knew that the older women’s efforts embarrassed Sara, so he did his best to keep his distance from her.
“Here.” Maile handed him a huge plate of raw kabobs. “Take these to Doug by the grill.” Running the kitchen like a Marine on a mission, she turned to Angela by the fridge. “The mango salad is on the bottom shelf.”
Turning on his heel, Kenny carried the kabobs across the lawn and found himself scanning for Sara. He hoped she was doing okay. The thought of the older women’s matchmaking efforts upsetting Sara had him a bit unsettled.
On the rear lawn, along with wickets for a game of croquet at one end and a volleyball net at the other, every space inbetween was taken up with an array of six foot tables decorated with Santa at the beach plastic tablecloths. At the far back, to the west of the grill, the rear property wall was backdrop to table after table of food, and with every new guest arriving, more food came with them. The Everrett family holiday potluck to kick off the season had gotten bigger and bigger every year. Pretty soon, the family was going to have to rent a hall to keep up with the crowds.
“Here.” Maile walked up to him as he approached the patio doors, a massive bowl of mustard potato salad in her hands. “Set this on the table with the other salads, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He almost saluted, but caught himself in time.
Her smile warmed. For a moment, she was out of drill sergeant mode and in substitute mother mode. “Such a nice boy.”
Laughter almost burst forth from deep in his gut. He was almost forty years old. It had been an awfully long time since anyone had referred to him as a boy. Still, all he could think to say was, “Thank you.”
“Okay. Shoo. Go take the bowl, then serve yourself a plate and take a seat. We need to get the food lines going before my refrigerator explodes from over stuffing.”
This time he nodded, did as he’d been told, and had a dish piled high with pulled pork, salads, breads, and the wonderful kabobs. He’d barely made it halfway across the lawn when this time he was intercepted by Sara’s mother. “Please have a seat at table nine. I’m trying to get everyone to spread out a bit.”
His gaze drifted to the tables before him, settling on number nine. An empty table with few people at any of the surrounding tables. “Sure thing.” He nodded and smiled back at her.
No more than a few minutes had passed when Maile Everrett appeared, practically dragging Sara behind her. “Here, you should sit. It will encourage more people to stop huddling bythe food tables and take seats.” The woman wasn’t content with directing Sara to the same table as him, she yanked a chair out from beside him and gestured to Sara. “Not there. Here.”
Sara already had a hand on the back of the seat across from him. When Maile insisted she surrender her chair to sit beside him, for a long moment, her eyes closed and he wondered if she was praying. Plastering on a wide forced smile, she nodded and worked around the table to sit beside him.
Content with her work, Maile bobbed her head, patted Sara on the shoulder, and walked toward the house.
“I really am sorry.” Her fork dangling in front of her, she stared at the food not him.
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
Letting the fork drop to the plate, she shifted to face him. “Yes there is, they’ve set their sites on you. If you’re lucky they’ll give up quickly and move on to someone else.”
“Someone else?”
She nodded.
“Anyone in particular?”
“Oh, who knows.” She heaved a deep, frustrated sigh. “I really thought they’d given up on you years ago.”
