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“Way to save the world, bro,” Ryder joked, elbowing me in the bicep.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, letting his ribbing slide. I was too hungry to care.
“What’d you guys do all day?” I asked.
“Not much. Helped Mom and Dad cook. Played some football with Charlie.”
“I had dinner at my sister’s, then came over afterward. Gigi insisted on feeding me a second time. I’m going to have to plan better at Christmas,” she said, patting her tiny stomach.
“Oh yeah, there’s no way you can come here and not get fed. That’s like a McCauliffe law.” I mopped up the last bit of gravy with my roll. “You guys eat dessert yet?”
“Nope. We waited on you,” Ryder said.
“Great. I’ve really been looking forward to Mom’s pumpkin pie.”
“Speaking of pie, how’re things with Delaney?” Bree asked, raising her brow.
“Fine.” I put my plate on the coffee table, leaned back against the couch.
“Fine? That doesn’t sound good,” Bree said, crossing her arms.
“Nah, that’s Quinn’s code word forGreat, leave it the hell alone,” Ryder translated.
I didn’t comment, just watched Goldy lap up what little bit of gravy remained on my plate.
“Hmmm.” Bree fixed her eyes on me. “For what it’s worth, Quinn, I really like her. She’s cute and spunky and funny and driven. You guys seem good together.”
“Whoa, slow it down, Dr. Love,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes at me, hating the second nickname I’d given her.
“We’re just talking. Don’t go getting ahead of yourself,” I said, taking another slug of beer, skillfully avoiding eye contact.
“Talking? That’s what we’re calling it now?” Ryder snickered. “You remember we live in Peachtree Grove, right? I have it on good authority you were seen coming out of the bakery at seven A.M. And I’m no detective, but I’m pretty sure the bakery’s not even open at seven A.M. So...” He twiddled his thumbs, pleased with his mad sleuthing skills.
“So what? We were having an early morning chat.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever, bro, none of my business. But I will say, you do seem a little less grumpy lately.”
“Gee, thanks. I’m going to see if Mom needs help with that pie.” I stood up, tired of the inquisition.
“She’s lovely, Quinn,” Bree called out after me. I just waved my hand behind my back. Those two. Always trying to set me up. What was that saying about misery loves company?
* * *
My phone vibrated as I took my last bite of pumpkin pie.
Delaney:Happy Thanksgiving! Want to come over for pie?
Q: Sure. Be there in 15.
“Hate to eat and run, but I’m beat,” I said, standing up. “Thanks for dinner, Mom. Happy Thanksgiving, guys.” I nodded to the table, ignoring the suspicious look Ryder threw my way.
“See you tomorrow at the annual tree lighting?” Pops asked.
“I’ll be there, manning the toy drive for the station most of the night. I’m in charge this year.”
“Wonderful! I have a few gifts to donate. We’ll bring them by,” Mom said.
