Page 92 of One More Made Up Love Song
Freddie glances over at me. “I’m doing my best,” he says, and my heart climbs into my throat.
“How was the drive?” Mom asks.
“Entertaining,” he says, and she chuckles.
“I expect it would be, with these two in the car.”
“Where’s Daddy?” Carina asks.
“Out in the greenhouse. But he’ll come in if someone runs out and tells him it’s time to eat. Are y’all hungry?”
I glance at my watch. It’s only three-thirty, but we didn’t stop for lunch, so when I catch a whiff of fried chicken floating out the front door, my eyes widen.
“You made chicken?” I ask, my mouth already watering.
“And biscuits,” Mom says. “And potato salad.”
“With the tiny pickles?”
She smiles. “You and your pickles. Yes, with the tiny pickles. We can wait until it’s closer to dinner time, but it’s ready now if you didn’t have lunch.”
“We didn’t stop, and I’m starving,” I say.
“I can always eat,” Freddie adds.
Carina drops her bag. “I’ll go find Dad.”
I should not be surprised at how easily Freddie folds into our family. My parents are easy to love. Warm and accepting, always leading with empathy and compassion. Even when they worry about us, it comes from a place of concern, not judgment, which is something I’ve learned never to take for granted.
They ask Freddie a lot of questions, but very few of them have anything to do with his career. They ask about his family, his life growing up, his siblings. My dad, who has three tattoos of his own, asks Freddie about the ink that’s visible on his arms and the little bit of chest exposed at his collar, and Freddie explains their meaning, then listens while my dad does the same.
After we eat, the five of us walk outside to the greenhouse and look at Dad’s newly planted Japanese maple seedlings. Freddie seems to enjoy the greenhouse and asks my dad question after question.Goodquestions. Curious questions that I can tell impress my dad. He keeps grinning at me over Freddie’s shoulder, which makes me fight to keep from giggling.
Poor Dad. Surrounded by daughters for so long. He’s probably thrilled at the prospect of having another guy in the family.
Afterward, Dad and Carina head back inside, but Mom takes Freddie and me to the rescue barn to meet Pirate and the new foal born just a couple of days ago. If I thoughtFreddie liked the greenhouse, here he might as well be seven years old and visiting the zoo for the very first time.
I’m not sure I have ever seen him smile as much as he does when he meets the one-eyed donkey he’s been following through pictures for weeks. “Hi, Pirate,” Freddie says, scratching the donkey’s long ears. “Wicked eye patch, man. You’re really selling it.” He holds out his phone. “Here. Take a picture of us? I want to send it to the guys.”
He poses beside Pirate, smiling wider than I’ve ever seen him smile, and I snap a few shots for him. “You look good out here,” I say as I hand his phone back. “Happy.”
“Iamhappy,” he says. “Happy is easy out here. This is a great place.”
I lean against the fence post, propping one foot up on a hay bale. “Yeah. A little hot, though. It’s a shame we can’t go swimming.”
His eyebrows lift. “Why can’t we?”
“Because I didn’t pack a swimsuit, and I’m guessing you didn’t either,” I say.
“No, but I am wearing a pair of black boxer briefs that have doubled as a swimsuit before.”
I think about the blush pink bra and underwear I’m wearing. “Yeah. That’s not an option that will work for me.”
Freddie’s eyes drop to my torso, his eyes flickering with a hunger that makes my skin flush with heat. “Okay, but you grew up here. There has to be something in that house you can wear. Or you could borrow something from your sister.”
I bite my lip, considering. Icouldborrow something from Carina. Her boobs are half the size of mine, but she probably has something I could make work. Besides, it’s hot and muggy and the sun probably won’t set for another threehours, and now that I’vethoughtabout swimming with Freddie, I don’t think I’ll be able to let the idea go.
“Fine,” I say. “But I’m just warning you. This is a cold mountain river we’ll be swimming in. Like, steal-your-breath, make-your-teeth-chatter cold.”
