Sunday Brunch
Asa
“How long are you going to hold me hostage here?”
I cross my arms as I stand in front of my frustrated son.
“It’s not that I don’t like Keelie and her kids—I do,” he goes on. “I don’t even mind being here, but I want to see Carissa. I had to cancel all our plans for the weekend. This is bullshit, not to mention it’s embarrassing.”
“Lower your voice,” I warn, even though Knox and Saylor have been given full rein to be outside again now that the security is in place. The last I saw, Knox was shooting baskets and Saylor was with the animals.
We’re in Keelie’s office in the front of her house. I’m giving my kids the lowdown on what’s gonna happen today with brunch, instructing them to not say a word about the shooting. Keelie’s wound tighter than a spring, she doesn’t need her family knowing she was grazed by a bullet and I definitely don’t need them to know it happened while she was sitting in my driveway. Levi’s at the end of his rope, and Emma—God help me—is lying on the sofa, limp as a wet noodle. She doesn’t seem to give two shits if I hold her hostage.
“Give me a few more days. As of last night, I got a lead on the car, but I need more time.” I look down at Emma. “Until then, I have no idea why it happened. Before I let you loose again, I need to figure out who’s targeting my family and why.”
Emma looks away and burrows her messy-haired head into a pillow.
“Can we stay here?” she mumbles. “I don’t want to go back home. I don’t think I can.”
I stoop to a crouch in front of her and push the hair from her face. I see nothing but the shell of a girl who used to be full of life. I can’t fucking stand it, but I’ve interrogated her over and over again and it does no good. I can’t get into it right now with Keelie’s family coming any minute. No way am I gonna make her go back to that house if she doesn’t feel safe there. I’ll buy another one if that’s what it takes. “I don’t know how long we can stay here, but I won’t make you go back if you don’t want to.”
“Aren’t you and Keelie, like, a thing now?” she asks.
“We are,” I tell her the truth because I have no desire to keep it from them. “But it’s up to Keelie on how she handles it with her kids. They don’t know.”
“Dad.” Levi’s still agitated. “When do I get parole?”
I stand and narrow my eyes at him. “If you do your best not to look miserable today, Carissa can come over later. You can introduce her to the goats.” He rolls his eyes, but pulls his phone out of his pocket, no doubt to text his long-lost girlfriend.
I leave them and go back to the kitchen where Keelie’s been cooking up a storm for hours. Her hair and makeup are perfect, she’s got on a pair of black jeans that fit her like a second skin topped with a shirt that hangs off her shoulder that wasn’t shot, showing her black, lacy bra strap. She’s boosted at least three inches, which still doesn’t make her tall, but it does do amazing things to her legs and ass as she bends over to look in the oven.
She woke me up this morning before the sun rose to kick me out of her bed like we were teenagers. But she did this by crawling on top of me, apologizing while tasting my neck and chest with her tongue and kisses, promising me she just needs to get her head around shit before she comes clean to her kids.
I rolled her to her back, put my hand between her legs, and watched her come again as the first rays of the day peeked through her windows.
Only then did I leave her.
Now, she’s standing at her sink and doesn’t look away from the fruit she’s cutting when she states, “I hope you’re ready for my family.”
I turn around from pouring myself another cup of coffee and lean my hips against her counter next to where she’s standing. “They can’t be that scary, Keelie. I’m sure I can handle them.”
She throws me a glance that says she doesn’t believe me. “Your family must mind their own business. You’re lucky.”
I shake my head. “Don’t really have a family besides my kids so I don’t have to worry about it.”
She stops what she’s doing and turns fully to me with a horrified expression on her face, whispering, “What do you mean?”
I shrug and take another sip of coffee. “Never knew my dad. My mom was single my whole life. She was a heavy smoker and got lung cancer. On top of that, she was always lonely and didn’t have the will to fight. She died when the kids were young.”
Holding her hands out because they’re sticky, she steps close and presses up to kiss me. “I’m so sorry. And here I am complaining about my meddling family. I sound like a bitch.”
“You’re being honest. Don’t apologize for that, baby.”
“Still. I’m sorry.” She kisses me one more time before going back to her food. Without looking up, she adds, “Puppy.”
I grin and frown at the same time. “That’s a strange pet name for me, but if you insist.”
She quickly shakes her head while cutting cantaloupe. “I’m talking about Emma. Get her a puppy. I’ve watched her with Banner and Bella—she loves them. My goats must be somewhat endearing, because I doubt she’d spend as much time with them as she does just to appease my daughter if she found them as annoying as I do. A puppy will give her a reason to get off her ass and get her mind off,” she looks back to me and waves her knife around, “whatever it is that’s eating at her.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “A puppy, huh?”
She washes her hands and grabs a towel. “You’ve been so busy buying cars, getting me drunk, as well as,” she raises a brow, “other things. I sort of forgot to mention that right before we were shot at, I almost had her talking. She started to open up, Asa, and I’m sure she’ll do it again. In the meantime, give her something else to focus on. Trust me, nothing sucks up your time like a needy animal. I should know.”
I set my mug down on the counter. “She just told me she doesn’t want to go home and I don’t blame her. I can’t buy her a puppy when I don’t know where we’ll be.”
She tosses her towel next to the fruit and lowers her voice. “You’re welcome here until you figure it out. I wish I could promise you more, but I can’t right now. Not yet.”
“You okay with a puppy here?” I put my arm around her and pull her to me. “For now?”
She smirks. “Like I’d even notice a puppy with all the animals and extra humans around.”
I shake my head and drop my hand to smack her fine ass.
Her eyes flare.
“Extra humans, huh?” I ask, giving her a squeeze.
She starts to open her mouth, no doubt to give me shit about something, but she’s stopped by the uproar of goats and the donkey at the same time my phone alerts me. Her eyes widen again, but this time in a panic. I pull my phone out and unlock it, looking at the live feed of multiple camera angles.
I show it to her. “Is this your family?”
Her eyes go from heated to panicked to surprised in mere seconds. She watches a Volvo and Honda Pilot pull up to her house and exclaims, “Yes, but how am I seeing this on your phone?”
I lean down to kiss her. “It’s your new security system. I had it installed two nights ago. I’ll teach you how to use it later.”
She pushes away from me. “You had a new security system installed?”
“Why do you think I’m okay with your kids playing outside?”
“Are you serious?” she practically yells.
I put my hand to her lower back and pull her to me, ignoring her expression and whatever else she’s thinking right now. She’ll get used to it. “I’m always serious about security.”
She tries to push away again, but I don’t let her. “I have a security system, Asa.”
“No, you had a couple of glass-breakage noise detectors. If you think that was a barrier for anything or anyone, you’re crazy. Now you have motion detectors around your entire property, cameras everywhere, and silent alarms that alert me, my men, and my contact at the CIA since my house was shot to shit.” I hold up my phone that shows a shitload of people all climbing out of their cars. And by shitload, I mean seven, all ranging from an elderly woman who’s using a cane to the youngest boy who looks a little older than Knox.
“The CIA?” she exclaims.
I shrug. “Only for now until we can figure out who’s trying to fuck with me, my kids and, by extension, you.”
“You’re unbelievable!” she spits out on a breath.
I narrow my eyes. “You and my daughter were shot at and you ended up with stitches from a bullet graze. You’d better believe I’m fucking serious about this.”
She opens her mouth to either argue more or try to justify her shit security system—when in reality, the fucking donkey gives her a quicker response to any intruder—but she’s interrupted by a rumpus and voices at the front door, the loudest of which has a shaky southern accent that carries through her big house.
“Keelie Elizabeth Lockhart, where are you?”
Keelie’s eyes slowly close and her head falls forward onto my chest.
Her fingers grip my biceps when the elderly woman’s voice keeps getting louder with the clomping beat on the hardwoods. “Saylor told me you have a man in the house!”
I lean down to put my lips on the top of her head and try to keep from laughing when another female’s voice joins the party. “And there’s an Infiniti in your garage with new tags! Did you win the lottery and not tell me, bitch?”
I laugh out loud and Keelie presses tight, muttering into my chest, “That’s my sister.”
“Watch your mouth, Stephanie Lynn!”
The banging against the wood floors gets louder. When I look over Keelie’s head, I see a small, white-haired woman appear from around the corner gripping a cane. “Keelie, your brassiere’s showin’!”
I feel Keelie lift her head, but she doesn’t let go of me and looks pained. “That’s my great-aunt, Lillian Rose.”
I smile at the old woman, but she frowns back. “That’s Miss Lillian Rose to you, Mister.”
A younger woman with bleached blond hair turns the corner and stops next to the old woman. She’s taller than Keelie and looks older, but I can tell they’re related. A huge grin takes over her face and she drawls, “Nice.”
Keelie groans and face plants in my chest again.
Brunch is going to be interesting.
*****
Keelie
“Mommy.” Saylor crawls up from under the table, appearing between Asa and me. “Pleeease, can I go play? I’m sooo full.”
Brunch is mostly done, and like always, she’s had ants in her pants for the last twenty minutes. She’s bounced and crawled all over her chair, invaded Levi’s personal space, and now she’s acting as if she’s going to die if she has to sit another second. My parents worry about me raising two kids by myself enough, so I always make her sit at the table longer than usual during brunch, pretending I have my shit together as a parent, but sitting for Saylor is a relative term on a good day.
I try to drag her up, but Asa yanks her out of my hands and pulls her onto his lap as he gives me a small frown and I know what that’s about. It’s been almost two days—I doubt I’m going to tear my stitches at this point. If anything, they’re simply itchy.
As much as I want to keep her here because she’s a distraction from my family, I give in. “Go play.”
Asa lifts her and puts her feet to the floor. All the children under the age of twelve must have taken that to mean they’re excused too, because Knox and my nephews, Sam and Simon, all take off from the dining room like a streak of lightning.
My mother sighs as she watches Asa with my daughter and I slump into my chair, dying a slow death, because I can see it in her eyes. I knew this would happen. She’s planning and organizing Pinterest boards in her head—dresses, flowers, cakes. Everything down to the bubbles and personally monogrammed M&M’s, color coordinating with the rest of her chosen accessories.
She’s fawned over Asa since she walked in. My father’s main interest is what he does for a living. Shawn, Stephie’s husband, has focused on his hobbies, and Stephie, my damned sister, has pushed the envelope more than anyone. She’s asked question after question about how he feels about living in the country, if he can wield a hammer and table saw, and how he feels about goats.
It’s been the most painful meal in the history of food.
“So, Asa…” My father leans back in his chair and looks down the table at us from the head where he’s sitting, even though it’s my house. Aunt Lillian Rose is at the opposite end. For some reason in my family, if you’re the oldest, you get the head of the table, no matter whose dining room you’re in. “Tell us more about your consulting firm.”
Asa throws his arm over the back of my chair, appearing totally relaxed, and that’s saying something with everyone throwing questions at him like he was the target of a dunking machine. “I contract with translators who specialize in various cultures. Corporations hire my people to travel overseas with them, help them communicate when traveling abroad. We also offer security. That’s about it.”
“We don’t care about that,” Aunt Lillian Rose quips as she dishes herself another helping of cream cheese French toast casserole before smothering it in butter and syrup. She’s on a restricted diet at her assisted living center, so she goes hog wild at Sunday brunch. But I bite the inside of my lip because so far, Aunt Lillian Rose has been quiet—busy chowing down on food with normal amounts of sodium. “We want to know how you two met, when that was, and how things are comin’ along.”
My eyes go big as Asa gives the back of my hair a playful yank and says, “There’s really nothing to know, Miss Lillian Rose.”
“Keelie,” Lillian Rose admonishes with her tone and wipes her mouth. “I am an eighty-one-year-old southern woman who likes her food. I need to know if there’s a reason for me to keep choking down the low-sodium crap, or say to hell with it, and bask in the good stuff for the rest of my days.”
“Aunt Lillian—” My mother frowns, but our dear great-aunt is not deterred.
“Well, it’s not like any of us are getting any younger here. There’s no time to mince words.” Lillian Rose looks straight at Asa. “I’ll just say it here since the little ones are gone. David couldn’t rub two pennies together if his life depended on it, and it wasn’t because he didn’t make it hand over fist. He spent and gambled away everything they had and then some. Bless his heart—since he’s gone and all.” She rolls her eyes unapologetically as she does her southern duty to bless someone she’s gossiping about, even if he is dead. “Keelie is better off without him.”
“Lillian Rose!” my mother cries, not because our aunt is wrong, but because she needs to shut her mouth. Everyone knows I hate talking about David anytime, so why would I want to rehash that shit in front of Asa and his children.
“What?” She’s shocked by my mother and looks to me. “You’re thirty-five and have the rest of your life to live. You might want more babies.”
Stephie spews her Bloody Mary across the table and Shawn hands her a napkin as he pats her on the back.
Levi shoots a strange look to his dad, while poor Emma doesn’t know what to think of my ridiculous family.
My parents sigh and shake their heads.
As for me, well, my jaw drops and all the air expels from my lungs. I wouldn’t be able to respond if I wanted to and I absolutely cannot look over at Asa.
A baby? I can hardly keep up with the two I have who aren’t babies. The last thing on earth I need right now is a baby.
Asa’s hand weaves its way through my hair, and when he gives my neck a squeeze to get my attention. I glance over, mortified for a myriad of reasons—the talk of babies is just the icing on the cake. When his eyes catch mine, he’s smirking and gives me a wink.
Shit, shit, shit.
My mouth instantly goes dry at the thought of making a baby with Asa, because from our first time together last night, I know I’d enjoy trying, but it’s the outcome that makes me want to break out into hives. I thought I did enough drinking yesterday for the next month, but all of a sudden something strong sounds appealing. I could use a case of wine or two to muddle out the embarrassment of brunch.
I swallow down two gulps of water and am just about to push away from the table to start cleaning up, because I’d rather scrub the floor behind my toilets with a toothbrush than sit through this misery any longer.
Before I can do that, I hear from my side, “Are you expecting anyone else?”
I look over and Asa is studying the screen on his phone. When he raises a brow, I shrug and shake my head, because the good Lord knows, I don’t need anyone else to torture me.
“What’s going on?” my mother asks.
Asa’s face turns hard and he gets up from his seat muttering, “Excuse me.”
I frown, watching him leave my dining room and head out the front door.
Levi clears his throat and tries to make an excuse for his dad. “It’s probably just a work thing.”
I give him a small smile and look across at Emma who’s pushed her food around her plate the whole meal. I feel the need to apologize to them both for what they had to sit here and witness for the past hour.
“Yes,” my father agrees with a satisfied look on his face. “Being self-employed, you always have to be available to the job.”
I find myself wishing I was twenty years younger so I’d have an excuse to be immature and roll my eyes.
My mother picks up her glass of wine and smiles brightly across the table. “Keelie, dear, how long has it been since he changed your flat tire?”
Fuck it. I do roll my eyes, because I just don’t give a shit. That is until I hear voices wafting in from where Asa left my front door standing open.
When they get louder, we all start to make out the words, and the first we hear are Asa’s, and they aren’t happy ones. “You should’ve called. I told you I’m taking care of it.”
“Where are they?” a woman’s voice demands. “I took the red-eye and had two layovers. I’m exhausted and since no one will answer their phones, I had to use the Find My iPhone app. Do you know how hard that was to do?”
Confused, I look around and am about to get up to see what’s going on with the man I had sex with last night, when I notice Emma sit up straight and all of a sudden become alert. She glares at her big brother, who closes his eyes as he shakes his head.
What the hell?
“Stop—” I hear Asa warn one last time, but the woman interrupts him.
“My daughter was in a drive-by shooting and I want to see for myself that she’s okay.”
Oh, fuck.
I pull in a breath and shift in my seat since my back is to the entryway just in time to see a woman stomp through the construction of my front porch. She’s at least five-foot-eight, slender, with thick, dark hair hitting her shoulders, and she’s dressed from head-to-toe in Lululemon. I’d know it anywhere because it’s the best workout gear on the planet—I can’t afford it, even when it’s on sale.
“Emma!” the woman exclaims and holds her arms out. “Come give me a hug. I have to see that you’re okay after the shooting!”
All eyes in the room who are related to me go big at the announcement of a shooting, and everyone in the room whose last name is Hollingsworth groans, as if they were shot at all over again.
“Well, I do declare,” Aunt Lillian Rose announces as she pours more syrup on her French toast casserole. “This is better than my evening shows.”