The Googled? Dane mashed his lips together to keep from smiling. “What did she find?”
“You’re in movies and your momma seems like a handful. And …” He gave this next part lots of scandalous buildup. “You have a girlfriend.”
Susie held up her hand. “I know about her.”
“And you was still kissing him in your kitchen?” The old man was all righteous indignation.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice the subject change? You’re not supposed to be driving. What if you get hurt or hurt someone else?”
“I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive.” The old man was losing his fight and seemed to shrink in stature.
“You’ve been driving longer than everyone’s been alive. You’re a thousand years old. You can’t see far away or close up and you refuse to wear your glasses. I don’t want you to get hurt.” She patted the seat next to her for him to sit down. “If you kill someone and go to jail, who will I throw fireworks at on July 4?”
He thought about it for a moment. “And you’d have to deep fry your own turkey on Thanksgiving. You already burned down one barn. I can’t have you burn down the new one.” He sat down next to her.
“Not my fault. You were the one who threw water on a grease fire.” She held her palms up like that wasn’t the point. “I do all of the driving from now on.”
“Okay, but I ain’t letting you grocery shop without me. Last time, you bought me bran cereal instead of Cap’n Crunch. My body ain’t built for bran.” He leaned forward so he could make eye contact with Dane. “She’s trying to kill me with healthy food. She thinks I don’t know, but I do.”
“Are all families like the two of you?” Dane had always been interested in other people’s family dynamics.
Susie shared a look with her uncle and then shrugged. “Probably. All of my friend’s families are crazy in their own way. Doesn’t your family have some quirks?”
“I don’t really have a family. It’s just my mom and me.” He didn’t like talking about his mother. It was too personal. He’d spent his childhood being the adult, and according to his therapist, he resented it.
“Well, that’s just damn sad.” Milton reached around Susie and clapped Dane on the shoulder. “Every family needs a loco cousin or two.”
Susie nodded. “Like cousin Alfie. He’s definitely our most unusual cousin.”
Dane was pretty sure cousin Alfie had nothing on Susie and her great-uncle.
“What’s special about cousin Alfie?” Since two of the oddest—but in a nice way—people he’d ever met thought Alfie was unusual, he must really be out there.
“He’s one of them …” Milton dropped his hand and turned to Susie. “What do you call them people who collect things?”
“Hoarders. He hoards rocks.” Susie readjusted the ice pack on her foot.
“Rocks? You mean like gemstones?” He knew rockhounding was a thing, but he’d never heard of rock hoarding.
“No, like rocks from the front yard. Hardened lumps of silica and calcium carbonate.” Susie sipped her coffee. “You know, pebbles and boulders and such.”
Milton sighed and shook his head. “That boy stole some of my favorite rocks.” He looked at Dane. “If there’s any rocks you like having in your yard, don’t invite him over for dinner. That man can dig up a rock faster than anything I’ve ever seen.”
“What does he do with all of these rocks?” He guessed it was better than hoarding dead animals, like one lady he’d seen on TV had done. She’d had a collection of roadkill racoons in her freezer.
“He piles them up inside his house.” Milton got up from the table and went to the coffee maker. He popped a K-Cup in and set a mug in place to catch the coffee stream. “Eventually we convinced him to move to New Mexico. We told him they had better rocks. It was the only way to save our property.”
“One time, he overnighted me a giant box. He called to ask me to sell them for him on eBay because they were dinosaur bones. When I opened the box, guess what? They were just rocks. I know bones.” Susie thumbed her chest. “Undergrad degree in anthropology right here.”
“What did you do with the rocks?” Cousin Alfie sounded like a handful, but Dane couldn’t help wishing that his family consisted of more than just him and his black sheep mother. He would have liked to have had a cousin—even one who had a thing for rocks.
“I told him that I couldn’t sell them unless he had the proper paperwork verifying their authenticity because trafficking in illegal dinosaur bones came with a minimum ten-year-per-bone jail sentence.” Susie took another sip of her coffee.
“Is it illegal to sell undocumented dinosaur bones?” Every minute he spent with Susie was more fun than the last.
She shrugged. “Who knows? If it’s not, it should be.”
“I’m sorry to say this about my own kin, but that boy’s stupid. His momma must have dropped him on his head one too many times.” Milton sipped his own coffee. “Need me to frost them cinnamon rolls?”
“Sure.” Susie made as if to get up and then seemed to remember she couldn’t walk. “Could you also grab some plates, forks, knives, and napkins?”
“I’ll get those.” Dane stood and looked around for the obvious place where those things would be kept.
Milton nodded to the drawer in the island. “Silverware’s in there, and the plates are in the cabinet behind me.”
Dane grabbed everything and laid out three place settings on the table.
“Somebody knows how to set a table.” Susie nodded approvingly.
“Somebody watches a whole lot of Food Network.” He liked the approval she gave him. He hated to admit it, but he was a people pleaser, like most actors. Give him a little praise and he was Silly Putty.
“Do you like to cook?” Susie smiled at him as he finished setting out the dishes. She sounded genuinely interested in his life.
“No, but I love to watch other people cook in the hopes that someday, I’ll learn how to boil an egg.” Now she knew another one of his secrets: he couldn’t cook.
“Cooking’s easy. Every man should know how to cook.” Using pot holders, Milton placed the cinnamon rolls in the middle of the table.
“All you know is how to make this casserole, flip an omelet, and pour cereal into a bowl.” Susie took Dane’s plate and served him a giant piece of casserole. It looked like it had sausage, cheese, eggs, and green chilies in it. It smelled wonderful. She also scooped him up a cinnamon roll dripping in cream cheese frosting and set it on the opposite side of the plate.
“Here you go.” She set the plate down in front of him.
He smiled to himself. If someone had told him yesterday that he’d be having something other than a protein shake for breakfast, he’d have laughed in their face.
“As long as a man raises hens and knows how to make an omelet, he won’t starve. Even when the zombie apocalypse comes.” Milton watched as Susie heaped his plate with food.
“Have you been watching The Walking Dead again? You know it scares the hell out of you.” Susie served herself and set her plate down. She grabbed Dane’s hand and then reached over and took Milton’s.
Milton reached across and took Dane’s other hand. He bowed his head. “Dear Lord, please bless this food and our family and even this stranger from California who has a girlfriend but is hitting on my great-niece. Please make sure he knows that if he breaks her heart, his body will never be found. In Jesus’s name, amen.” Milton dropped Dane’s hand.
Dane wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t religious, but he didn’t want to be disrespectful so he said, “Amen.”
“Amen.” Susie looked like she was trying not to laugh. “As you might have noticed, we’re not that religious of a family, so Milton tries to sneak in extra prayers while blessing the food.” She picked up her fork and dug in to the casserole.
“Okay.” Dane stole a look at Uncle Milton. He was only mildly worried that he wouldn’t make it out of the house today aliv
e.
Milton was busy eating his cinnamon roll. “Now about the zombie apocalypse that’s coming, I’ve got everything all worked out. Since we both have wells and a natural spring, we’re good on water. We’re going to drive the horse trailer over to that hippy commune toward Marble Falls and steal all of their solar panels—”
“It’s not a hippy commune. It’s an organic farm—”
“Same difference. They’re all about peace, love, and hugging it out. They’ll be the first ones eaten. Anyway, we’re going to take their solar panels and harvest any crops that haven’t been trampled by the zombies and bring everything back here. We’re going to use them solar panels so’s we can take hot showers and run our refrigerators. Then we’re going to build a really tall fence around our land and establish the town of Miltonville.” He took a sip of coffee. “We’re only going to let in people we like.” He held a hand up. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out. I’ve staked out the whole town on the map in my barn.”
“Thank God. I’d hate to head into a zombie apocalypse without a plan.” Susie took another bite of her casserole.
Dane had the feeling she’d listened to lots of crazy stories from Milton.
“Will I be able to move into Miltonville?” Dane wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer, but he wanted to be as close to Susie as she’d let him.
Milton put his fork down, sat back, and studied Dane. “Well, I don’t know, son. We won’t need actors. Do you have any useful skills? Miltonville might could use a bricklayer. Are you a bricklayer?”
“Sadly, I am not. But I’m an excellent gardener, and if I promise to take some bricklaying classes, will you agree to give me a thirty-day trial stay?” It sure would make it easier to spend time with Susie if her uncle liked him.
“Depends. Are you planning on bringing your girlfriend with you?” Milton arched an eyebrow. “Miltonville ain’t no polygamist colony.”
Susie threw up her hands. “This is ridiculous. Miltonville isn’t real. Zombies aren’t real.”
“You say that now, but wait until you’re knee-deep in zombies and fighting to the death over a can of tuna. You’ll be begging for me to let you into Miltonville.” The old man shoved the rest of the cinnamon roll into his mouth.
Susie turned to Dane. “I would apologize for him, but there aren’t enough words in the English language to craft an apology that’s adequate.”
“What? This is the best breakfast I’ve had in a very long time. Certainly the most entertaining.” Dane pointed to the cinnamon rolls. “These are crazy good. Thanks for including me.”
He liked being here with this odd family. He hadn’t realized that sharing a meal with family could actually be an enjoyable experience. He had a feeling that he would enjoy anything as long as Susie was there.
* * *
Chapter 7
* * *
“I don’t think its broken. The pins are holding. I’ll order the X-ray just in case.” Dr. Giles Nixon, Susie’s friend January’s husband and her other friend Laney’s father, palpated the outside edge of Susie’s foot. “I think you just made your peroneal tendon angry.”
“Can the X-ray wait until tomorrow? I’m about to have like three hundred people descend upon my house.” She didn’t have time to drive into town and have an X-ray. Her foot might have hurt, but she had plans that couldn’t be rescheduled. Besides, she was taking ibuprofen for the pain.
Giles waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, it’s only to rule out a stress fracture.”
“You know that peroneal tendon, it’s so touchy.” January shoved an entire orange roll in her mouth. Amelia, the eight-month-old baby on her hip, played with January’s strawberry-blonde hair.
“We have some news.” Giles grinned. “We’re expecting again.”
January patted her flat stomach. “Yeah, we’re having another baby. Lately my life is a series of unplanned pregnancies. My husband’s trying to keep me barefoot and pregnant, but I’m one step ahead of him.” She pointed down to her turquoise-Converse-clad feet. “I don’t do barefoot.”
“You do know how babies are conceived?” Laney pried her half sister from January’s arms. “I can explain it if you’re unclear on any of the details.”
“What can I say, my husband can’t keep his hands off of me.” January shoved another orange roll in her mouth.
Giles grinned and rested a hand on his wife’s waist. Clearly, he agreed.
Laney gagged as she settled Amelia onto her hip. “I’m taking Amelia outside to look at the trees before she’s completely damaged by hearing about her parents’ sex life.”
“I’ll follow you out.” Giles grabbed his medical bag. “I need to put this back in the car and get a boot for Susie to wear.”
“That’s why God made therapists, so they can fix our kiddos.” January slid onto a barstool. “So, is anyone going to bring up the romantic comedy film star riding the elephant in the room?”
Susie glanced out the kitchen window that looked onto the front yard. Dane was chatting with the rental car man who’d brought him a whole new car. It was another Tesla Model X. She hoped this one had a spare tire.
“It’s just like I said. I found him on the side of the road. We walked over to my house for him to call the rental car company. I tripped over a rock and he helped me get home.” Susie couldn’t help the smile. Dane was a surprise, and she loved surprises.
This wasn’t going to end up being some epic love story, but she felt like it could be the start of a fun fling. Or, she dared to hope, maybe even a lasting friendship.
“He’s staying for Potato Cannon Wars?” January eyed up another orange roll. At this rate, she’d have the pan polished off and licked clean in the next five minutes.
“I know. I’d have thought he had better things to do, but he wants to stay. He also fed the animals for me this morning.” Susie shrugged. “He’s a nice guy. He’s going to be an honorary judge. Oh,” she sat up, “he doesn’t want for people to freak out in front of him, so today he’s my cousin Stewart.”
She knew she should tell them about the kisses, but her friends would read too much into them. Dane was famous. He wouldn’t want anything serious with a country girl from Texas, and her fellow Tough Ladies were way too protective for their own good.
“Stewart huh. Think people will buy that? He’s sort of … distinctive looking.” January popped another orange roll into her mouth.
“He’s an actor. I think he can sell it. Plus, I think he enjoys being just a regular guy.” Susie always did what she could to make people feel comfortable.
“Have you told your uncle that you’re related to Dane … um … cousin Stewart? Before he left to get into his clown costume, I could have sworn Milton made the cutthroat sign behind Dane’s back.” January popped in the last orange roll.
“Uncle Milton already knows about Dane. Things went sideways between them over the zombie apocalypse. Milton suggested that Dane learn a useful trade like bricklaying so Dane would be allowed inside our commune,” she threw up some air quotes, “‘Miltonville,’ and Dane agreed, but then Milton decided Dane would be better as a zombie-fighting gladiator in a zombie cage-fighting ring.” She shook her head. The whole idea sounded even sillier when she explained it out loud. “Apparently Miltonville needs entertainment or morale will suffer. His idea of entertainment is watching Dane throw down with some zombies in the octagon.”
January shook her head in sympathy. “I thought he’d agreed to stop watching The Walking Dead.” She used her fingernail to pry up some caramelized cinnamon sugar from the bottom of the pan. “Have you forgotten the last time he binged on it? He was barricaded for two whole days inside his house and it took your key lime pie to finally convince him to move the refrigerator blocking the front door.”
Susie threw her hands up in frustration. “I know. I canceled his cable, but they must have turned it back on. But don’t worry. This time he’s got a plan. He’s walling off the property, stealing some sol
ar panels, and creating a whole town. He’s got it all figured out. He’s only letting in people with useful skills, like bricklaying and cage fighting.”
“Oh God, is he going to let me in?” January looked worried. “Think he remembers the time I helped you rig up his refrigerator light to turn off when he opened the door but to have his kitchen lights come on?”
Susie grimaced. “I wouldn’t mention it if I were you.”
“Why is Dane Bennett in the front yard?” Nina Muñoz, one of Susie’s good friends and a fellow triathlon teammate, set a large foil-covered dish on the kitchen island.
“He’s posing as cousin Stewart today and judging Potato Cannon Wars.” January wiped her mouth with a paper towel. “He had a flat on the side of the road and Susie picked him up. Now he won’t leave. Isn’t that the way with movie stars. You pick them up and then they move in.” January patted her flat stomach. “By the way, I’ve got another bun in the oven.” She picked up a corner of the foil and looked under it. “Could this be your abuela’s famous coconut flan?”
“You just ate an entire pan of orange rolls. How can you still be hungry?” Susie gave her the once-over. “And how come you never gain an ounce?”
“Genetics. I was blessed with a great metabolism. I have ugly feet, so it’s a trade-off.” January grabbed a knife from the drawer next to the stove and cut herself a huge square of flan and plopped it onto a plate. “I love flan.”
“How many babies are you eating for?” Susie couldn’t believe how much January could eat. It was still nothing compared to Laney, who should have retired from pediatric oncology and gone into competitive eating.
“There’s just the one baby and me.” She threw up an index finger. “I’m still breastfeeding, so I guess, technically, I’m eating for three.” Her eyes lit up. “That means more flan for me.”
Nina picked up the pan, smoothed down the foil, and walked out of the room. “I’m hiding it from you. You’ll thank me later.”
January rolled her eyes. “Please, you’re putting it in the refrigerator in the garage.”
Sweet Susie Sweet Page 6
