16
“ O h my word, it smells wonderful in here!” Analiese yelled from the doorway.
Skyla grabbed a towel and dried her hands on it, walking out of the kitchen just enough to see the arrival of her guests. She smiled when she caught Dalton’s eye and waited for him to come to her.
“Ugh. You two are disgusting,” Analiese complained as she brushed past Skyla.
“Don’t listen to her,” Dalton whispered as he drew closer, his hands slowly going around her waist. “She’s just jealous.” He followed his words with a kiss deep enough to leave Skyla light headed and weak-kneed when he finally pulled back.
She couldn’t look away. The flecks of gold in his brown eyes were mesmerizing, and his hands on her back were solid and steady.
Dalton must have been in a similar state of mind because he didn’t move either. “Hi,” he whispered after several long seconds of staring.
Skyla’s smile widened. “Hi.”
“How’s your day been going?” Dalton reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
She’d pulled it up in a ponytail today, against her better judgment, but cooking a Thanksgiving meal was no joke, and Skyla didn’t want her hair in the way, though she could already feel a headache coming on.
“Kinda busy,” she admitted.
“Yeah? Anything I can help with?”
Skyla shook her head. “Not really. I’ve been prepping all morning, and now I’m kind of at my down time. In about another hour, it’ll get busy again.”
Dalton leaned down until they were nose to nose. “Does that mean I can have you to myself for an hour?”
“If you want,” Skyla offered, dropping the kitchen towel and wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Oh, I want,” Dalton teased, kissing the edge of her jaw.
Skyla hummed under her breath, loving the riot of sensations racing down her back, but it was over all too soon when her grandfather cleared his throat loud enough to wake the dead.
Jumping slightly and immediately feeling guilty for being caught with her boyfriend, Skyla let go of Dalton and stepped back, turning to wave at Grandpa. “Hey.”
Grandpa grunted. “I don’t even have a good saying for this one,” he muttered, scratching at his jaw.
Skyla sighed and rolled her eyes. “We’re dating, Grandpa. I’m allowed to kiss him.”
“What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss?” Grandpa asked, spreading his hands to the side. He then pointed at Skyla. “Yes, I say, yes!”
“That is not how that saying goes,” Skyla argued. Shaking her head, she took Dalton's hand, giving him a quick glare when he chuckled at her expense. He never seemed as upset at being caught as she did.
And they were caught a lot.
It was proving more and more difficult to find time together with the holidays closing in. Dalton’s tours were busy, Skyla was working more hours than ever, and Grandpa still hadn’t recovered his strength, so they rarely went anywhere at night, choosing instead to spend time eating as a foursome.
It was wonderful.
And frustrating.
The now infamous fishing expedition had been the last real time they’d gotten by themselves, and Skyla was aching for another evening with no responsibilities and no one interrupting them.
“I’d better check on the cider,” she said, squeezing Dalton’s hand and starting to step away.
Grandpa also turned to go, but as he did, Dalton pulled Skyla so her back was against his chest and wrapped his arms around her, his mouth resting at her ear. “If I were to kiss you, then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.”
His voice was slightly husky, and Skyla’s knees trembled. “Dalton,” she tried to scold him. “Don’t curse.”
His chest shook as he laughed under his breath. “I’ve been doing a little research so I can throw a few things back at your grandpa when he gets feisty,” Dalton admitted. “That one caught my attention, and it’s completely true.” He kissed the shell of her ear. “Though the internet is arguing about whether or not it’s really a Shakespeare quote. The credit goes to like a dozen people, and he’s one of them.”
Skyla closed her eyes and bit back a sigh. She needed time with this man.
“If cursing was good enough for Shakespeare, or some other poet, this mere plebeian can do no less.”
Skyla gently smacked his hands that were still wrapped around her. “Naughty.”
“Always.” He kissed her head again and let her go. “Now. You said something about cider?”
Skyla bent down to pick up the towel she’d dropped. “I made cranberry cider. It’s been simmering all morning and is probably ready to drink if you want some. It’s not as good as your family recipe, but…”
Dalton put his hand on her lower back. “By all means. Take me to the place of food and drink.”
Skyla put her fingers over her mouth to hold back a laugh. “I think your studying is going to your head.”
“Probably,” Dalton admitted with a shrug. “Does it make me sound smarter?”
“It makes you sound like my grandpa.”
Dalton paused, then looked down at her. “I’m not sure I want you to view me like you view your grandpa.”
Skyla dropped her hand. “Then I suggest you just be you.” Raising up on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “Come on. I’m starved.”
Dalton was right on her heels as she walked back over the threshold of the kitchen, only to find Analiese and Grandpa huddling over something. “What are you two doing?”
They looked at each other, then slowly looked at Skyla.
Skyla frowned, recognizing the guilty look on her grandfather’s face. “Just what do you…” She gasped as she walked closer to see through their shoulders. “Grandpa!”
“What?” he sputtered, pointing at the destroyed pie. “Why do you think this was me?”
Skyla put her hands on her hips. “Who else would cut a square directly out of the middle?”
Grandpa pointed at Analiese, who scoffed.
“Right. This isn’t even my house, John. You can’t pin this on me.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Grandpa argued. “You’re here all the time.”
“Someone has to supervise the lovebirds,” Analiese responded.
“I’m here,” Grandpa retorted.
Analiese pointed at the pie. “I think we can all clearly see what type of person you are. There’s no way I’m gonna trust you to keep Dalton in line.”
“Hmm…” Grandpa pursed his lips. “The lady has a good point.” He shrugged and picked up the pie, shuffling to the table. “Since it’s already ruined, we might as well enjoy it.”
Skyla’s jaw dropped.
“Who’s up for a game of Uno?”
“But!” Skyla tried to call.
Dalton came up behind her. “Let it go,” he said, rubbing her upper arms. “He’s happy, and it’s a compliment to your cooking. Might as well just grab a fork and join the fun.”
Skyla’s argument died on her tongue, and she looked over her shoulder at Dalton. “Why are you so good at being a peacemaker?”
Dalton grinned. “Because I live with Analiese.”
“I heard that!” his sister called.
Dalton tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if to say “see?”
Fighting to relax, Skyla went to the drawer and grabbed a handful of forks. “Life’s short,” she announced. “Let’s eat dessert first.”
Dalton stuffed another bite of the apple pie in his mouth. Now, he wasn’t exactly incompetent in the kitchen, but everything Skyla made was awesome. She was far superior to his basic skills, and Dalton was loving every delicious bite of it.
Though he did feel bad that she was constantly cooking for him and Analiese. It was a lot of work, and he needed to find another way to make it up to her. He’d offered to bring something for the dinner, but Skyla had turned him down, saying she wanted to say thank you for the fishing trip.
If only she knew how much her kiss had already done that.
His gaze drifted over his cards to where she chewed her bottom lip in concentration. He wanted to reach over and pop that lip out before she cut a hole in it. Of course…if he let her wound it, he would have an excuse to kiss it better, right?
“Put that mind to work on the game,” Analiese hissed, nudging him with her elbow. “Quit being a creeper.”
Dalton huffed and gave his sister a harsh stare. “I’m not being a creeper.”
Analiese put down a card. “Blue,” she announced, grinning when Grandpa moaned. “I’m sure Skyla doesn’t want you staring at her all the time, do you Skyla?” Analiese looked over the table.
Skyla’s gaze met Dalton’s for a moment, then she dropped them back to her hand, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t mind,” she finally said.
Analiese nudged Dalton again. “It’s your turn.”
Dalton laid a card, not even caring what it was.
“You can’t do that!” Analiese yelled, snatching the card back. “I said blue, not yellow.”
Grumbling under his breath, Dalton retrieved the wrong card and set down a blue one. “Happy?”
Analiese smiled widely, bouncing in her seat. “Of course.”
“You realize she’s about to win,” Grandpa muttered, rearranging his own cards.
“She’s still got three cards left,” Skyla argued. “We have a couple of rounds to go.”
Dalton took another bite of pie, forcing himself to focus on something other than Skyla. Analiese was kinda correct. He stared. A lot.
It was just so hard to look away. Could he help it if he loved watching her smile, frown, laugh, or any other emotion that crossed her face. Or what about that hair? His fingers were always dreaming up ways to touch it and let it slip like silk through his fingers.
“Your turn,” Analiese drawled, smacking his shoulder. “Geez, Dalt. I’ve been in love before too, and I didn’t act like this.”
A retort was on the edge of his tongue, but Dalton swallowed it back. It would only cause contention and ruin the Thanksgiving dinner that Skyla had worked so hard on all day.
But, man…he was getting tired of his sister.
“Anna, girl,” Mr. Bowen warned. “Thy tongue doth run away with thee.”
To Dalton’s shock, Analiese blushed and slumped in her seat. “Sorry.”
What was that?
Ever since her break up with her fiance, Analiese had been bitter and brash. Dalton had gotten used to it and just figured she was still healing. Getting left like that was a pretty horrific trauma, and it stood to reason that she wouldn’t really be the same woman she was before.
But even as he tried to take care of her and protect her, Dalton had never, in the last two years, seen Analiese back down or apologize.
“We know you’re just excited to win,” Skyla said sweetly. “It’s fine.”
Analiese’s smile came back a little, and Dalton’s gaze went right back to Skyla. She teased that Dalton was the peacemaker, but Skyla had a gift. Dalton had merely learned to swallow his argument.
“Uno!” Analiese cried, coming back to life as she laid down her second to last card. Apparently, Mr. Bowen’s scolding could only keep her down so long.
Dalton stuffed more pie in his mouth. He was going to be rolling home today. “Hmmm…” he murmured, eyeing his sister. “Now the question is, what color do you have, and how can we counteract it?”
Analiese gave him a cheeky smile and held her card to her chest. “You have a twenty-five percent chance of getting it right.”
“She turned it blue not long ago,” Skyla offered.
“Right,” Dalton said with a slow nod.
“Hey. Whose side are you on?” Analiese asked Skyla. “I thought women were supposed to stick together.”
Skyla held up a palm. “Sorry. I’m looking out for my own win.” She wiggled her two leftover cards.
“Dadgummit,” Mr. Bowen grumbled. He held nearly a dozen cards himself. “How do they do it? I can’t seem to get rid of anything.”
Dalton put his elbow on the table and leaned over. “Mr. Bowen. Do you have anything that might stop Analiese?”
Mr. Bowen shuffled his cards and paused before looking up. “Maybe.”
“If I keep it blue, can you keep the game going?”
Mr. Bowen shook his head.
“No teaming up!” Analiese cried. “That’s cheating.”
“He didn’t tell me what color he has,” Dalton argued. “No cheating here.” He laid down a matching number in green. “That’s the only other thing I can change it to.”
Mr. Bowen nodded again, but didn’t respond.
Skyla eyed Dalton, then her grandfather, then Analiese.
“Skyla,” Analiese wheedled. “You know you love me.”
Skyla took one of her cards and tapped it against the table. Sighing, she finally laid it down, keeping the color green.
“Uno,” Dalton said quietly.
Skyla froze, her wide eyes turning to him. “What?”
Dalton pointed to her hand. “You didn’t say Uno. You need to draw two.”
“That’s what you get for supporting the boys,” Analiese grumbled.
Grandpa’s lips were twitching as Skyla drew her cards, then he triumphantly placed a Draw Two on the pile.
Dalton had managed to get the right color.
He snickered when Analiese glared at the older man.
“See if I sneak you any more candy bars,” she said.
The smile fell from Mr. Bowen’s face, and he slumped in his seat, his face going ashen.
Dalton frowned. “Mr. Bowen?” Was he upset about Analiese’s comment? Or was he really getting sick?
“Grandpa?” Skyla asked, leaning over and putting her hand on his shoulder. “Grandpa, you’re really pale. What’s wrong?”
Mr. Bowen wheezed a few times, then coughed and patted his chest. “Just inhaled wrong,” he said, pushing himself back from the table. “You know, after all that pie, I think maybe I’ll take a nap.”
“Grandpa—” Skyla began, but Mr. Bowen cut her off.
“Finish without me.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I want to hear who wins.”
He disappeared down the hall, and the table was quiet, everyone staring after Mr. Bowen’s departure.
“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Analiese whispered thickly.
Dalton put his arm around her and tucked his sister into his side. “I don’t think that had anything to do with you.”
“It didn’t,” Skyla assured Analiese. “He…” She swallowed hard and put on a trembling smile. “He hasn’t been the same since the stroke. I’m sure the nap will do him good.” Taking a deep breath, Skyla’s smile widened but didn’t grow more sincere. “Now…who’s turn is it?”