Good Wood (8 page)

“You brought a champagne cake!” Robin looked up from cutting celery I knew no one would eat. “Yum!”

“Yay! Molly brought the grown up’s cake!” Slut #1 slurred, clapping her hands together in a ridiculous display.

“You’re sure looking pretty today. How’s it going?” Robin gave me a quick side hug. Though she was an ultra-traditional southern belle, Robin was my only female relative who didn’t make me cringe. She and Mason met when one of his dumbass stunts ended in a trip to the nearest Emergency Room. Robin was his nurse and after she’d had to stab him with several needles, he’d come away with her phone number. Robin apparently found risk-taking idiots charming.

“Good. Making lots of money thanks to your hubs and his paint job.” I replied, plucking the grape Mad Dog 20/20 from my cousin’s grip before she could empty the bottle into her glass.

“Hey!” Slut #2 snapped, and I dodged a spill as she sloshed her ice around in her glass.

“It’s not even four o’ clock yet. Eat something.” I shot back, shooing them out of the kitchen. I turned back to Robin, who rolled her eyes. I grabbed a sponge and mopped up the booze spill.

“They heard some single men would be here. They ‘gotta get their drink on’ in preparation for the hunt-bless their hearts.” Robin murmured, and I couldn’t suppress a snarky grin. Southern ladies could say some truly cold-hearted shit, but as long as they tagged the catch phrase “bless her heart” on the end, no one could accuse them of any ill will. “What about you, Molly-girl. Are
you
seeing anybody? Some of my co-workers are stopping by. Paramedics. Built like a brick shit-house…mmm mmm.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “I’ve only been divorced for a couple of months, Robin.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “But how long have you been separated. Scratch that: How long has it been since you had sex?”

I chuckled and glanced around to be sure we were alone. “I don’t know. Six or seven months?”

“You’ve gotta be horny.” Her well groomed eyebrows rose in alarm and I couldn’t stifle a surprised laugh. “Live while you’re young.”

“I’m good. Really.” I shook my head as I snagged some cheese squares from the tray she was holding.

“Suit yourself. But if you want beer you’d better get outside and get some before the cousins drink it all.” Robin sighed, and I opened the door for her so she could carry her trays out to her guests. Mason’s back yard looked like a page out of some home improvement magazine. His large fenced corner lot was landscaped perfection. Several adults and older kids played volleyball in the in-ground swimming pool. “The slut sisters” joined a couple of guys I recognized from the worksite in the hot tub, and my nieces and nephews seemed to be having a cage match with their friends in the bouncy house. Like all Hildebrandt gatherings, two kegs of beer were the focal point. I saw my mother seated at the far end of a table. My grandmother sat beside her at the head of the table in the shade.

“Molly. Come on over here, child.” Mom ordered, as she pushed a chair out for me with her foot. She rapped the empty seat with the end of her cane and I complied.

“I made you a cake.” I said as she pecked me on the cheek. I crossed to greet my Granny Hildebrandt in the same fashion. Granny was 90 years old and had long since joined the “I-no-longer-give-a-shit-so-I’ll-say-what-I-want” brigade.

“It’s not
her
birthday. She should have made the little one a cake. What the hell did you make
her
a cake for?” Granny scoffed. I opened my mouth to reply and had nothing polite to say, so I closed it again.

“Now, Mama.” Mom patted Granny on the hand, “Molly’s a chef, remember?”

Granny H. squinted at me as if trying to remember who I was. “You look just like me when I was your age; except,
I
didn’t defile my body like that.”

How did you defile your body then?
I opened my mouth to say something when Mom interrupted.

“Mama Hildebrandt!” My mother piped up in a half-assed attempt to defend me. “What would Jesus do?”

“Well, he sure as hell wouldn’t ink up his skin like The Whore of Babylon.” Granny muttered, and I rose to my feet before my mouth got me in trouble. I looked over toward the keg and saw Graham, the foreman from the jobsite, pouring a glass.

“Excuse me.” I managed, as I tore off in his direction. He glanced up and graced me with a charming grin.

“Well, hello!” He held out the beer he’d just poured. Though I’d judged my cousins just minutes before for boozing it up, I took a nice long gulp. “Yep. You looked like you needed that.”

“Thanks, Graham. Good to see you. Did you bring the wife? I’m dying to meet her!” He gave me a knowing look.

“I want you to meet her, too.” He started to pour himself a red Solo cupful to replace the one he’d given me. “Maybe she’ll learn something about kitchens through osmosis.”

“You’re horrible.” I rocked my shoulder into his elbow. He smirked and nodded at a lovely, svelte blonde who seemed to be a good ten years younger than him. She was in the pool, serving the volleyball.

“That’s ‘The Misses’.” His tone was low and conspiratorial.

“Well, well. I guess she doesn’t have to know how to cook when she looks like
that
.” I cocked an eyebrow at him and he chuckled. His gaze shifted over my shoulder and his expression morphed into one of complete astonishment. I glanced behind me and saw Joe standing at the top of the stairs on the deck, surveying the partygoers. I felt like I was in one of those old movies where the music swells and everything moves in slow motion. He was dressed in a white collared shirt that contrasted fantastically with his tanned skin and dark indigo jeans. I had no doubt that this was as dressed up as Joe ever got. In my opinion, he wouldn’t have looked better in black tie.

I might’ve watched him for hours had Graham not called out his name. “Joe! Over here!” He looked in our direction. That’s when his forest-green eyes met mine and the corner of his mouth curled in a crooked smile. Though I didn’t realize it just then, that’s when I was done for.

He descended the stairs with an effortless swagger that called to the “bad boy addict” in me. It wasn’t the part of me that had always been crazy about Joe. His total role reversal was equal parts attractive and disturbing. Seeing him in his street clothes felt oddly intimate after weeks of checking him out in his tool belt and hard hat. I knew I was still staring but couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He was just a foot from me when Graham stepped between us. I inhaled with incredible effort, as if I’d been holding my breath for days.

“Good to see you out and about, son.” Graham’s tone was warm and I saw a genuine smile light up Joe’s face.

“Hey, Graham.” Joe replied, his gravelly voice sending shivers down my spine. His eyes shifted to me once more. “Hey, little girl. What’s on tap?”

“Not sure about that keg, but this tastes like Shiner Bock.” I felt my long dormant drawl resurface on the word ‘Shiner’. I took another sip and his eyes flicked from mine to my mouth and back again. The minute move was impossibly erotic, and I had to look away. I saw Graham chase after the volleyball that careened not only out of the pool but over the fence, and when I turned back, Joe was pouring himself a Shiner.

“Sounds like you aren’t completely de-Texified, Ma’am.” He intentionally drawled Ma’am in a way that reminded me of leather chaps and tipped cowboy hats. I cracked a wry smile.

“Yeah…I’m a little bit Yankee and a little bit ‘y’all’.” I conceded, and he smiled just enough to flash me his straight white teeth. Then the smile was gone and I had somber Joe back. He cleared his throat and took a long drink of his beer.

“So…”He trailed off awkwardly glancing at the ground.

“So…” I squared my shoulders and blinked at him patiently.

“I have to admit, I really did love the food.” He met my eyes with obvious reluctance. “Your dad would be proud.”

It was the last thing I’d expected from him, and might have been the sweetest thing anyone had said to me in years. I took a deep breath to steady my voice. “Thanks.”

His sincere eyes scanned mine and then narrowed. He leaned back against the fence.

“What brings you back to Austin? I thought you were some big shot in some fancy joint on the coast.”

“Got divorced. My ex owned the place.”

“Awkward.” Was his only response. We both drank to that.

“It serves me right. I only knew him for a couple of months before we got hitched.”

“Sounds like you.”

I laughed aloud at his bluntness and I could tell he was pleased.

“What went wrong?” He folded his rock hard arms and I had to rip my eyes from him.

I tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear.

“Oh, it was wrong before it started. So my track record for being the family fuck up remains untarnished.” I sighed, with a self-depreciating grin.

Joe scoffed. “And all this time I thought Mac had that title all sewn up.”

“Nah. He’s tries, but he’s a hopeless amateur.” I wasn’t sure if it was the hops or his low key demeanor, but I felt myself starting to relax.

“Well, you know I’ve always been the black sheep, so cheers!” He shrugged and we tapped Solo cups. I knew from eavesdropping on my folks that Joe’s dad was some successful attorney. He’d cut Joe off when, after graduating high school, he’d refused to follow in his footsteps. I’d always imagined him as a giant ogre of a man, finding it impossible that anyone could treat Joe so poorly.

Just then, both of my nieces slammed into me, knocking me into him. His arm came around me to save me from falling for a second time. He never even spilled a drop of his beer. Thankfully, neither did I, but that was mostly because my cup was nearly empty already.

“Aunt Molly! Look! I’m just like
you
!” The birthday girl exclaimed. She had a red bandana in her hair, lots of red lip gloss, and a left arm plastered with temporary ‘Hello Kitty’ tattoos.

“Wow!” I gushed, trying hard to focus exclusively on her proud freckled face and not Joe’s arm which remained around my shoulder. I knelt down beside her, casually shrugging out of his grasp. “You look downright impressive! How long did it take you to get all those tattoos?”

As I chatted with her, Mac came over and harassed Joe. They both poured another beer and he herded Joe over to the patio to greet my mother and grandmother. I felt a pang of pity for him, but it was impossible not to smile at the way my mother lit up when she saw him. He gave her a huge bear hug and made himself right at home at the table beside them. I retied my niece’s bandana so I could show the girls the proper Rock-a-billy technique and put a little blush on both of them. They ran off to show their friends and I saw Robin struggling at the door with more trays of food. I ran up to help her and got roped in to mixing a couple of cocktails for Mason and Charlie, the plumber. Thirty minutes later when Robin’s paramedic friends arrived, Joe was still kicked back on the patio having a laugh at something my evil Granny whispered in his ear.

“This is Molly, my very single sister-in-law.” Robin presented me to her three male coworkers like she was a bikini model on The Price Is Right showing off a new car. One of them seemed much more interested in his hamburger, but the other two puffed up like they were about to arm wrestle over me. All the joy was instantly sucked out of my day, and I immediately plotted an exit strategy that involved using “the slut sisters” as human shields.

I felt a hand grip my shoulder and turned to see Joe. I could tell by his purposeful eye contact that he was there to save me. “Hey! I was going to show you that thing on the truck…”

“Right!” I gave an Academy Award-worthy apology and promised to return shortly.

“Grab your swim suit on your way back. It’s hot tub time.” Robin called after me. I gave her a ‘thumbs up’, though I hadn’t brought a suit along. As we made for the house, Joe handed me a topped off beer.

“Thanks.” I whispered. He turned the knob on the back door and shrugged as he held it open for me.

“Those two drunk chicks were headed my way. I thought I’d even the odds a little. Sometimes people just don’t take the hint. You ready for something to eat?” I nodded and we hurried into the kitchen. I pointed to the island.

“You get the burgers, I’ll get the cake.”

We hurriedly snagged plates of food and Joe put a half a bottle of ketchup on his burger. I giggled and shook my head when he held it up to me, silently asking if I wanted some on mine.

“I think you have enough for both of us.” I cut two large pieces of champagne cake and pilfered an entire bag of Doritos. Mason was coming in the front door as we were going out. He looked from me to Joe and his expression soured. Right then, he looked so much like our Dad it was scary.

“Don’t let Robin see you out front with that beer. She’ll never let me get kegs again.” He called after me as I passed through the threshold.

“You got it, man.” Joe assured him and nudged the door shut in his face. We stood on the stoop giving each other a conspiratorial look of congratulations on our successful escape.

“Where’s your truck?” I turned and started down the stairs.

“Huh?” I could hear his footsteps coming down the stairs after me.

“I need to see your truck so I have a decent alibi.”

“Right this way, Ma’am.” The delivery of the term was even more delicious this time around. He led me several cars down and popped open the tailgate of a partially restored old school Ford.

“This is yours?” I’m sure my eyes were as big as platters. He nodded and I laughed uproariously.

“What’s so funny?” He lifted a disapproving brow.

“You drive a ‘little old man truck”.

“Hey now, watch it little girl. It’s a classic.” He sat his plate and cup down in the bed and turned to me. He grabbed me by the hips and boosted me into the bed.

“Well…ok, then.” With a quick sip of my drink, I attempted to cool the fever his touch caused me. When he lay back in the bed propped up on one elbow, I tried not to think impure thoughts. He bit into the burger in a ferocious masculine display. I understood then that everything Joe did was going to be sexy, so it was best to just acknowledge that reality and move on.