Page 95 of Huckleberry Hill
“Tonight.”
“You mind if I . . .”
“Shower,” I urged. “I’ll see myself out.”
Declan got up and padded naked to the bathroom.
I glanced at the clock. It was just past five in the morning. My body was sore and tired. But I smiled the entire walk back to the main house.
The scent of frying bacon immediately hit me along with the strong brew of coffee.
My mouth watered as I entered the kitchen.
Muddy stood at the stove, wearing her faded blue and white striped apron, her gray hair tied back in a long braid.
“Morning,” Muddy said.
“Good morning,” I said, going to the coffee pot and filling a cup.
I was a grown woman and I refused to be embarrassed, waltzing into the house after spending the night with Declan.
“You’ve got razor burn on your neck.”
I groaned. “Muddy.”
“What?”
“Can’t you at least pretend you don’t know what I was doing?”
“Kinda hard to do that, sugar.” She looked at me and grinned. “You look exhausted.”
My cheeks heated. “Some grandmothers don’t comment on their granddaughter’s private lives.”
“Some granddaughters at least pretend to sneak in after being out all night,” she pointed out.
I sighed. “We never could get anything past you.”
“Salem was pretty good. You, my dear, don’t have that gene.”
“What gene is that?”
“The rebel gene.”
“I can be a rebel,” I protested, my spine snapping straight.
“You’re twenty-three-years old. You make your own choices, and yet you’re still standing here trying to defend them. Salem plows ahead and when she gets into trouble, she asks for forgiveness. Never permission.”
“As you said, I’m twenty-three and I don’t have to ask permission.”
“True. How do you want your eggs this morning?”
“Poached, please.”
She nodded. “I just want you happy. You know that right?”
“I do.”
“And you look happy.”
