The kitchen suddenly grew quiet. Everyone else had gone out on the porch, probably talking about wedding plans and where things would need to be.
Elton cleared his throat. “Want to chop? I’ve got to brown the chicken.”
Adele circled an arm around his waist, then moved him away from the cutting board. He stiffened, though what he really wanted to do was melt into the casual embrace. She hardly ever initiated touch with him. What was going on?
She gave him a quick squeeze before letting him go and carefully taking the knife from his hand. He quickly shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans so she wouldn’t see them shaking. Elton felt like he was standing right on the edge of an emotional overload. Losing it in front of Adele was the last thing he wanted. He watched as she finished the carrots and started on the celery.
“Are you making your mom’s chicken and dumplings?”
Elton hummed a response. It was all he could manage now that Adele mentioned his mama.
“I love this recipe. Would you mind sharing it, or is it a secret?”
“She would love for you to have it.”
Elton had to step away. Could Adele sense his imminent breakdown?
He busied himself with the chicken, dredging it in flour seasoned with salt and pepper. Soon the sound and smell of chicken browning in the pan filled the room. This was a moment straight from his childhood, and though it didn’t let his mind move on from missing his mama, it soothed him. So many days after school, Elton had sat at the same kitchen table, doing homework and watching his mama cook.
She might not have much to be proud of in his life right now, but she would have been so pleased that he took up her place in the kitchen.
“I’m all done here. Need me to do the onions?” Adele asked.
Elton had completely forgotten about them, which only highlighted his current emotional state. He pulled two yellow onions from a basket on the counter and set them next to the cutting board.
Adele grinned up at him, making his heart leap. She held one onion in each hand. “Onion challenge?”
He smiled right back. “You’re on.”
Grabbing a second cutting board and knife, he set up right next to her. Elton honestly didn’t remember the last time he played this game. Maybe in high school? Any friend who had been around when his mom had been cooking something with onions had at least heard of this game.
The rules and premise of the game were simple. Two people cut onions side by side. First one to finish without crying wins. If both people started crying, then it was just a race to the finish. Mama had always complained that someone would lose a finger, but she didn’t stop them from playing.
Elton gave Adele a sideways glance. “Ready. Set. Go!”
Adele giggled as they started to chop. Elton couldn’t help the grin that overtook his face. Only Adele made him feel this way. Connected to his past and his family in a way that didn’t just leave him sad thinking about the loss of his parents. She made him laugh. She made his heart race and his desire kick up to high gear even without so much as a touch.
Why couldn’t she feel the same way?
For now, as they chopped and laughed and then both started to cry, Elton would take as much as she would give him. Even if there was an expiration date.
Chapter Eight
Adele
“And then the judge held me in contempt. I had to go straight from the courthouse in my thousand-dollar suit to jail,” Ben said. “Go to jail. Directly to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”
Adele laughed, along with most of the table. Despite the fact it was a little odd that Elton’s lawyer wanted to hang out with them, he seemed to fit right in with their group. The only one who didn’t seem to think so was Elton. He’d sat with his arms crossed for the last half hour, leaning away from the table. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been around Elton when he had said so little.
Maybe it was the reality of the ankle monitor. They had all planned to come by tonight for dinner to distract Elton and cheer him up. Clearly, their efforts were failing. Or maybe he simply didn’t like his lawyer. The longer the night wore on, the more Ben talked. And the more Ben talked, the more annoyed Elton seemed.
Did he not like the reminder that Ben gave him of his legal troubles? Or was it just that, for once, Elton had someone competing for the award of loudest mouth?
Watching Elton roll his eyes so far back that it seemed painful, Adele felt certain that it was the latter. Someone didn’t like sharing the spotlight.
She smirked, and Elton caught the look, narrowing his eyes before getting up from the table, taking a stack of plates with him to the sink. Adele was about to push back her chair to join him when Ben said her name.
“Hm?” Adele had no idea what Ben had asked her.
“I asked if you had a date to the wedding,” Ben said slowly, a smile tugging at his lips.
Elton dropped a dish in the sink and muttered something under his breath. Adele realized everyone was staring at her. Everyone but Elton, who obviously found dishes more interesting than the sad state of Adele’s nonexistent love life. Cilla had an amused look on her face, and Adele couldn’t quite figure out why. Other than the fact that she knew how much Adele hated having everyone’s attention focused on her.
“I don’t.”
“A beautiful woman like you? That’s surprising,” Ben said, and Adele felt her cheeks heat.
She may have seen right through Ben’s slick persona, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t also be susceptible to his charms. The man looked like the sexy lead actor in a movie. Not a rom-com, but a thriller where he would somehow take down a bad corporation and win the girl in the process, despite his flaws.
And right now, Adele got the impression that he was about to ask her to be his date to Pax and Cilla’s wedding.
Was he even invited? There was a gleam in his eye and a twitch in his lips as he looked at her. As strongly opinionated as Adele was, saying no had never been her strong suit. And she absolutely did not want to be put in that position with Ben right now. Which gave her a sudden shot of boldness.
“Actually, there’s someone I’ve been meaning to ask. Easton?”
His head lifted slowly and regarded her in that way that he had. “Adele?”
“Would you like to be my date for Pax and Cilla’s wedding?”
His eyes slid over to Elton, who still had his back to them, scrubbing dishes and muttering. Easton cleared his throat.
“Aren’t you, um, going with my brother?” Easton asked.
Adele laughed. As if Elton would have ever asked her. He probably already had some leggy blonde lined up.
“No.” She waved a hand. “He’s the best man and I’m the maid of honor. But that doesn’t mean that we’re going together. We just have some duties.” She laughed again, shaking her head.
“Is that so funny?” Elton turned around, leaning back against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest and, for once, did not have even a hint of a smile on his face.
“That you’d ask me to be your date? Frankly, yes. I’ve seen the women you date, El.” Adele shook her head.
Ben scooted closer to the table. “What kind of women does he typically date? I’m curious.”
“More like, who doesn’t he date,” Cilla muttered.
Adele began counting on her fingers. “Let’s see. Back in high school, it was the cheerleading squad—the whole squad. And the drill team. Would have been the whole drill team, but he probably didn’t have time to get through all eighty of them.”
Ben laughed. “Interesting. How about since high school?”
“Adele.” Elton’s voice had a warning tone to it. One she completely ignored.
Facts were facts. If he hadn’t wanted his dating history to be used against him, perhaps he should have thought of that before dating all these girls. And if Adele was spurred on in any way by an irrational jealousy of those girls, she would never admit it.
/> “I missed out on some of the college years,” Adele said. “But since then, I remember a particular vapid model, a few more who looked like models, but I think were actually waitresses—”
“Adele.” Elton actually stalked over to the table now, his eyes murderous.
Adele blinked up at him innocently. “What? You’re the one who dated them. I’m just listing them off for our new friend.”
“Lawyer. He’s my lawyer.”
“Is he billing you for these hours at dinner?” Adele asked. Elton glanced at Ben but didn’t answer. “Right. If he’s off the clock, he’s not here as your lawyer. And as your friend, it’s only fair he knows the important facts. Like many, many women you date.”
Elton’s face had flushed to the color of a nice merlot. Why was it so satisfying to bait him?
“Sounds like quite the range of occupations and interests. And what do you do, Adele?” Ben asked, drawing her attention away from Elton’s impending meltdown.
A simple question, but it made her squirm. Normally, Adele would spout off the elevator pitch that she’d developed. It was an easy way to talk with brand reps at conferences and also helped explain her job to people who weren’t as familiar with Instagram as a legitimate source of income. But somehow, she felt ridiculous telling Ben that her job was to create body-positive style posts and makeup tutorials for everyday women who wanted fashion without the fuss.
That elevator pitch had gotten her thousands of dollars’ worth of brand endorsements but felt very small while looking at Ben’s A-list face and expensive suit.
“I create online content,” Adele said, pushing her shoulders back. As though her body posture would help legitimize her answer.
Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. “You mean, like content marketing? My law firm has hired content marketers before.”
Adele shifted in her seat. “Sort of.”
“She’s an ‘Instagrammer,’” Elton said, putting finger quotes around the word.
Now it was Adele’s turn to glare.
“A very successful one,” Cilla said, jumping into the conversation. “She just hired an assistant. Right?”
“Yes. I did.”
“To do what, exactly?” Ben asked. Adele prickled at the question, but he didn’t look critical, only curious.
“She helps out with photo shoots, dealing with my comments, answering direct messages, and also contacting brands to secure more lucrative sponsorships.”
“Oh. Wow. I didn’t realize that there was so much to Instagram,” Ben said. “That’s pretty amazing that you’re creating a living from that.”
“Thanks,” Adele said, giving Elton a pointed look. “It’s nice when people can appreciate what I do.”
Elton only rolled his eyes. Adele shook her head, realizing suddenly that the conversation had totally derailed from where it started.
“So, Easton. About the wedding …?”
Easton cleared his throat. “Sure.” He even managed a smile afterward.
Adele tried not to be bothered by his choice of words. Sure was a few steps ahead of okay or I guess.
Maybe this wasn’t the dream date, one where Easton asked her, but it was something. A night on Easton’s arm. When she wasn’t having to do official maid of honor things with his twin. It was a start. Maybe this would be the date they looked back on and told their kids about.
“What’s your handle?” Ben asked, bringing Adele’s mind down from the clouds.
“What?”
“Instagram. Where can I follow you on Instagram?” Ben had his phone out now, fingers poised over the screen.
Elton snorted. “You’re on Instagram?”
Ben lifted a brow. “You’re not?”
“I’ve got better things to do with my time than waste it on something as brainless as social media.”
It took a moment for Elton’s words to really hit Adele fully. First, there was simply a feeling like all the air had been sucked out of the room. In fact, she thought she heard Cilla gasp.
Then there was the heat. It started in the center of her chest and spread outward, scorching a flaming path from her heart to her face until she could feel the burn at the roots of her hair.
She stood, turning toward Elton. He had already realized his mistake. His mouth opened and closed, but he could only say her name before she spoke.
“Adele …”
“And to think that I felt guilty that you got in trouble. I thought it was all my fault that you were stuck in your house. I felt badly about it. I’m not even sure why. I thought you were my friend, Elton.”
“I am, Adele. I mean, I—”
“A real friend wouldn’t demean my work. And it is legitimate work. How do you think I pay the mortgage every month? Or keep the lights on? Oh, that’s right. I forgot.” She slapped her forehead in a mock dramatic fashion.
“Adele.” She heard Cilla say her name in a warning tone. But Adele couldn’t have stopped the words coming out of her mouth.
“You wouldn’t know anything about real work. Because you’ve been sitting around on your butt, mooching off your parents’ inheritance the past three years.”
Her words had the impact of a subarctic glacial freeze blasting into the room, stilling every person in place and instantly cooling her rage.
Oh no.
Elton’s face showed shock and hurt before a mask of indifference slammed over his features. A wide grin stretched over his face, one that might have fooled a stranger.
But not Adele. She knew just how deeply her comment hurt. Nausea rose in her belly.
“Don’t be jealous,” Elton said. “I mean, not everyone gets to enjoy wealth at such an early age. I consider myself lucky.”
“Elton,” she whispered.
Easton’s chair scraped across the floor as he stood, tossing his napkin onto the table. Before Adele could say a thing, she heard his footsteps stomping up the stairs.
Ben stood next. “Thank you for dinner, Elton. I’ll send you the billable hours tomorrow.” He winked. “Kidding, of course. Delicious meal. Sufficiently awkward conversation.”
Before he moved to the kitchen door, he gave Elton’s shoulder a squeeze. Elton stiffened under the touch but didn’t move. Cilla cleared her throat, her gaze darting between Adele and Elton. She pulled away from the table and began rolling toward the door.
“I’d make up an excuse, but y’all know me too well. I’m out of here so you can work this out. And you’d better work it out.”
“I’ll see you to your car,” Elton said, the fake swagger still in his voice.
Adele hung her head, hearing the screen door slam as Cilla and Elton walked outside. She could hear their low voices as they moved down the ramp the twins had built off the side of the porch, just for Cilla.
Tears stung her eyes. Why had she said something so cruel?
Sure, Elton had demeaned her work and insulted her. Maybe in a roundabout way. But it wasn’t like most people really saw her job as legitimate.
If Elton wasn’t on Instagram, he probably had no idea how popular the platform was, or how many people were making thousands of dollars a month like she was, partnering with big name brands. He had probably just been pushing back after what she said about his dating habits.
No matter what he’d said or done to tick her off, it was low that she mentioned his parents. Beyond low. Whatever the bottom level was for insults, she had taken dynamite to it and blown a cavern another hundred stories below that.
Adele got up from the table, clearing the rest of the plates slowly. She began to rinse them at the sink, tears silently falling as she remembered Elton’s parents. His daddy had always been sweet but busy. His mama, however, had been the best. Like a second mother to Adele, and after her own mom passed, like an adoptive one.
She was the one who helped Adele with all the funeral preparations and everything after. Granny hadn’t been much help by that point, and though Adele was a fully capable adult, losing her mother somehow made her feel as
helpless as a child. Until Mama Boyd had swooped in to help.
And Adele had just dishonored her memory by her casual and cruel insult.
What would she think of me?
The worst part was, Adele knew how much it would have hurt Mama Boyd to see her sons hurting. Adele hadn’t just insulted her memory, but she had wounded the twins. Deeply.
She sniffed and wiped at the tears slowing over her cheeks. Not like it was much use. They weren’t even slowing.
Leaning against the counter, her face in the steam, Adele closed her eyes.
Lord, forgive me for my hurtful words. I don’t know why I can’t seem to stop my tongue. Help me make it right. And, Lord? Help me be kinder. Softer. Clearly, I’m not doing so well on my own.
The screen door slammed before Elton spoke. “You’re still here?”
She took a deep breath and turned. His words were light, but Elton was hurting. Not just from her careless and cruel words. He had been hurting for a long time, even if he wouldn’t admit it. She had watched him pull back from normal life after his parents’ death. And she knew it was in no way because he wanted to—what had she said? Right. Mooch off their inheritance.
If anything, Adele and Cilla had both worried over the past few years that the twins were suffering from depression. Handling it in different ways. But handling it like typical men, which is to say, not dealing with it at all.
When she turned to face Elton, the mask he wore slipped instantly away at the sight of her tears. Which, of course, started anew. This time in loud, ugly sobs.
In half a second, Elton had crossed the kitchen and wrapped Adele up in his arms. She shook and sobbed, clutching his T-shirt in her fists. His hands moved up and down her back, a shocking comfort considering that this was Elton. Moments ago, they’d been at each other’s throats. And now, she was melting into his arms.
“Shh. It’s okay, doll. It’s okay.”
Adele sniffed. “Stop being nice to me! You aren’t allowed to be nice when I was just a jerk. You’re supposed to yell at me.”
He chuckled, his breath teasing her hair and sending a shiver all the way down her spine. “I’m not going to yell at you, Adele.”
Winning the Cowboy Page 6
