Page 9 of Scrape the Barrel
We had to be.
4
Callan
Igrabbed the green bean casserole out of Lennon’s oven and set the dish on a hot pad next to the chicken breasts and brown sugar roasted carrots on the counter. Lennon and Oakley had made the sides while I worked on the chicken, but I’d offered to finish off the dinner when the timer had gone off mid-conversation in the living room.
The two of them moved to the dining room table after Oakley refilled her glass of wine and Lennon grabbed the bowl of roasted carrots. I balanced the other two dishes as I followed behind.
“Want another beer?” Lennon asked after setting the bowl down.
“Sure, thanks.” I double checked the table, making sure each setting had the proper utensils and a napkin.
Taking a seat on the opposite side of Oakley, I situated my napkin on my lap as Lennon came back in with our beverages.
“It looks delicious,” Oakley observed, eyeing the green bean casserole.
“A favorite of yours, too?” I asked.
She nodded. “I could eat it at every meal. I hate how some people wait until Thanksgiving to indulge.”
I let out a small chuckle as she reached for the serving spoon. “I feel the same way.”
“I hate green beans,” Lennon stated.
“So you’ve reminded us four times now,” Oakley remarked as she piled a heaping portion onto her plate.
“They’re just so bland—” he started.
“That’s why you add the crispy onions,” Oakley and I said in unison, since we’d had to tell him every time he brought it up.
We all served ourselves, then dug in.
“So, I’ll just get it out, then. Oakley is co-owner of the store now,” Lennon announced, breaking the silence at the table.
My eyebrows practically shot six inches in the air. “Really?”
Lennon nodded as Oakley’s cheeks flushed. “Having her as just my employee was a bit…difficult.”
I cleared my throat, grabbing for my beer. I didn’t want to know what they did in that office of theirs. “Congrats, you guys.”
“Thanks, Cal. We work really well together,” she said.
A smirk bloomed on Lennon’s mouth after he finished chewing. “At work and at home.”
“I love you guys, but I really don’t think I can keep my food down hearing about your sex life.” Especially because I didn’t have one of my own.
“Well, I got you another client,” Lennon told me, blissfully changing the subject.
“Do I know them?” I asked.
“Since you don’t go anywhere but your usual spots, no, you don’t. At least, she doesn’t know you. You need to get out more, Cal,” he said.
“I do get out.”
His eyes pinned me in my seat as his brows lowered. “Our parents' ranch and the bar don’t count.”
“Those aren’t the only places I go,” I defended as Oakley took a sip of wine, watching us.
