Page 70 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
“Such a good boy,” she says in a high baby voice and gives him a treat, now finally greeting him with some pets and kisses—way more enthusiastically than she greeted me, I might add.
“Go to the living room. Food’s almost ready.” Mom waves me through, and I chuckle as I close the door behind me.
“Good to see you too, Mother,” I can’t help but point out dryly and shake my head at her with faux disapproval.
“Yes, yes.” She kneels on the ground, letting Jensen lick her face and answering his whines. “Your owner is grumpy today!”
I hear another set of paws approaching and my gaze darts to the living room with a grin. “There you are, Nala.”
My parents’ golden retriever might be old already, but in her heart, she’s still a puppy. She greets me excitedly, zig-zagging around the hallway as she follows me to the living room.
Dad is in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the food. He’s wearing one of his well-worn flannel shirts, sleeves rolled up, and his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he studies the food like it might try to escape.
Nala gets a distracted pat from him when she brushes against his leg. He’s completely in his element, humming something under his breath and perfectly content.
“Son,” he greets me with a quick hug and a strong shoulder clasp.
“Ooh, mashed potatoes,” I say happily and quickly swipe my finger through it, cursing when it’s way hotter than I expected, and promptly lick it off. “It’s delicious, Dad.”
“Thank you, thank you,” he says prouder than an Oscars winner and grins, not even pretending to disapprove of me taste-testing anymore. He lost that fight twenty years ago. “Help me set the table.”
“Sure.” I take the plates out of the cupboard and bring them to the dinner table, setting them at the same spots we’ve sat at ever since I can remember.
“Did she ever love me as much as she loves Jensen?” I ask amusedly, watching my mom entertaining her grandchild.
“I wouldn’t be sure,” my dad jokes as he hands me the cutlery. “Then again, remember, she had to raise you—tantrums, shitting in flower vases and whatnot—not just love you the way she does your dog. She’s stricter with Nala too.”
“Fair point,” I admit with a chuckle and put the forks and knives next to each plate.
“Though I won’t ever complain about a human grandchild,” Mom says pointedly, sending a sharp glance my way with her eyebrow raised to her hairline, which makes me roll my eyes.
I don’t even dignify that little dig with an answer and continue setting the table.
“Hey, by the way, are we still doing a late Thanksgiving?” I ask as I pour us all drinks, giving Nala a pet as she gets into her“Please sir, may I have some food?”position right next to my chair.
What can I say? Mom might spoil my dog and sneak him food, but I do the same with theirs to get even.
“Yeah.” Mom and Dad nod, confused. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“No reason,” I explain with a shrug. “It’s just that Nic and Lauren asked if I wanted to join them for a Friendsgiving. I wanted to double-check with you that your cruise is still on, and it won’t impose on our plans.”
“It is very much still on.” Mom walks over to dad, who immediately snakes a protective arm around her while she kisses his cheek. God, those two are still disgustingly in love. I want that one day.
“We have a wedding anniversary to celebrate.”
“Damn right we do.” Dad grins and presses another kiss against the side of her head.
“Remember to invite Caleb, Honey. But speaking of Nic and Lauren …” She wiggles her eyebrows and motions for me to sit down while the two of them carry the pots to the table, and I groan. I know exactly what’s coming.
They might live three towns over, but gossip travels fast in this area.
“We heard about strange people hanging out in Wayward Hollow.” Mom glances at me, worried, and reaches for my hand. “Is everything okay? Are they dangerous?”
“I don’t think so,” I say and squeeze her hand back, then let go to put a good amount of mashed potatoes on my plate.
Jensen is, of course, lying down right next to the table, shooting me a glare that says,“Go ahead, enjoy your food. I’m only starving here, but fine,”that I’ve learned to ignore over the past months.
“Who are they?” Dad asks, confused. “Nobody quite knows.”
