Page 36 of Two-Step
“Well, you have to keep them because I’m not returning them,” she declares in a teasing voice. “Any L.A. woman worth her salt doesn’t have time for that.”
She’s imitating his boast about the pocket knife, and I should think it’s funny—everyone else thinks it’s funny, evenNonc—but I don’t.
“Fine,”Noncsays, all bluster. “I’ll keep ‘em. I’ll even wear ‘em. But this is all too much.” He waves his good hand over the still full basket. “I don’t need all this.”
Iris cocks a brow at him. “Not even the sugar-glazed, spiral-sliced honey ham?”
My uncle’s mouth forms anO. “You got me one of those?” The wonder in his voice is more childlike than I’ve ever heard. But I know him. He loves ham. He loves bacon. He loves pork roast, pork chops, pork butt, and pork cracklins. He loves pork of every kind, and with a sugar-glazed ham, Iris Adams just won him over for life.
Iris grabs the biggest and heaviest-looking of the bundles from the basket. “I’ll just put this in the fridge.”
“You told her that was your favorite?” I accuse, low-voiced.
Noncscowls at me. “No,” and then in an even lower voice,“Va brasser dan tes chaudières.” Go stir your own pot.Judging by the smirks on Ramon and Sally’s faces, they don’t need much of a translation. But I can’t see Iris’s expression because she has her head in the refrigerator.
“You told me to get the ham and pepper jack poboy from Olde Tyme Grocery the other night when I’d skipped lunch,” she says, shifting things around inNonc’sfridge. “You said that was the best.”
“Huh,”Noncutters, wearing a look of realization. “Ididsay that. Can’t believe you remembered.”
Iris straightens up, closes the fridge door, and beams sweetly at my uncle. “Of course, I remembered, Mr. Hebert.”
I’m sorry, but nobody is that sweet. She’s got to be playing a part.
Right?
She waves toward the basket. “You can open the rest later. There’s more food, but nothing else that needs to be refrigerated.” Then she turns to me, still wearing the smile meant forNonc,and the force of her gaze hits me like an electric current. “You ready? We should probably get started.”
I swallow, slow to respond. “Yeah,” I say finally. “Let’s go.”
She nods and slips through the kitchen’s swinging door, headed to the parlor. Sally and Ramon follow her, but before the PA can exit, I stop him.
“Hold up.”
With his hand on the door, he stops. “Yeah?”
I can feelNonc’seyes on me, but I don’t care. “Is she for real?”
The PA frowns. “Huh?”
My impatience flairs. “What’s she like when she’s noton?”
His frown turns into a glower. I’d bet money if I looked at my uncle, I’d find the same expression in his face. “Iris? She’s neveron.”He spits out the word like it’s rotten fruit and pushes past the swinging door.
Chapter Nine
IRIS
“I don’t like that guy,”Ramon mutters when he joins us in the front studio.
“Me either,” Sally whispers. “And I think he’s the first person I’ve met in Louisiana who’s unfriendly.”
I want to point out that she didn’t meet the gross guy with the bike last night, but I don’t dare bring that up in front of Ramon. I told Sally about it after we got back to the house, but Ramon is still in the dark and it’s going to stay that way.
Still, my best friend likes everyone. I guess it comes with the territory if you’re a preschool teacher. That is, she likes everyone except for Moira, so the fact that she doesn’t like Beau Landry is a pretty serious black mark as far as I’m concerned.
But looking at him is like breathing nitrous oxide. Pain goes away, and I have the urge to giggle. Yeah, he’s that good looking. Even when he’s scowling.
Maybe even especially when he’s scowling.
