Page 19 of Stables Spurs Suits
“The suit?” I repeat, turning toward him.
“Oh, yeah, sorry, it was just the nickname they gave you. I mean, up until this week, I didn’t think you even owned anything else.”
“Up until this week, I didn’t,” I chuckle, not really offended. It’s better than half the nicknames I’ve had in my life. The worst was when an ex would call me “doormat.” He hated that I wouldn’t argue with him. I just never saw the point to it. I mean, who cares if we eat Italian or Asian fusion for dinner as long as we eat? He’d try to bait me too, purposefully having issues with something I planned or did just to see if I would back down and be thedoormathe always said I was. I can think of worse things to be. A total douchebag like him is near the top of that list.
When I get inside, I hear them before I see them all. Their voices carry down the hallway in a haze of laughter and with a warmth that makes me think of my mother and father. They’d laugh and talk while they cooked together most nights growing up, and it was the best sound in the world to come down to at dinner. I can just imagine them at home now, cooking some new pasta dish Dad found online that he insists will be his new favorite, while mom reminds him of the decades-long love he’s had for her lasagna.
“Stop that goat,” Poppy yells from up the top of the stairs, and I turn just in time to catch the little pigmy goat as it launches itself off the second-to-last stair right into my arms.
“Where are you trying to get to, little one?” I ask it as it nuzzles into my neck, the cool wet tip of his nose tickling my skin.
“He’s trying to sneak into dinner, but he’s not allowed. The last time I brought him in, he found a way onto the table and jumped through Sally-May’s mashed potatoes before landing in the bowl of peas. I don’t like peas, so I didn’t really care, but Dad said I wasn’t allowed to bring him down anymore.”
“This is Cuddles, right?” I ask as it settles into the crease where my shoulder meets my neck.
“Yep, here, I’ll pop him in the playroom until dinner is over. He can’t really get into trouble in there.”
“The goat has a playroom?”
“Sort of. I made the front sunroom into one for him and Connor’s mini goat, Lulu. Our dog Houdini and Gunther the pig spend a good bit of time in there now too. It’s got comfy beds and pillows and an obstacle course for the minis.”
“That sounds like a good idea. Here,” I say as I hand the tiny thing over. He wriggles his legs a little as if he is trying to make his way back to me. “I’ll come play with you after dinner,” I say, and Poppy chuckles and skips up the hall.
I slowly make my way to the dining room.
“Welcome,” Sally-May says the moment she sees me. “Come, come, sit up here.”
She pulls out a chair at the other end of the table, and as I move sideways around the backs of chairs, I notice no one is eating yet, even though there’s plenty of food already laid out.
“You weren’t waiting for me, were you?” I ask, and Atlas walks in from the kitchen, eyes me suspiciously, then takes a seat at one of the two empty chairs at the end. There are twelve seats bunched in, but no one seems to mind.
“We eat when Sally-May says we eat,” Dean chuckles. “Poppy, it’s time for dinner,” he tilts his head back to call.
“She was just putting Cuddles in the playroom,” I say, and I sit in the seat between Atlas and Sally-May.
Sally-May does a head count under her breath, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks as I wonder if they’re all thinking the same thing I am. They had the perfect setup until I decided to stay for dinner. Now we’re packed in like sardines, and I’m so close to Atlas that his musky scent is filling my nose and making my head spin a little.
“Isn’t this cozy?” Sally-May says. I’m about to apologize when Dean cuts in.
“Reminds me of when Alan, Kelly, and Gramps were here.”
“When are they coming for another visit?” Sally-May asks. I feel my smile rising and quickly grab a glass of water to hide it. I guess I suck at keeping fun secrets too.
Dean shrugs.
“They’re doing their own thing in Savannah. Maybe when the Banana Ball season is over, Alan might bring his beau and the team again for a break.”
“His beau?” Nial asks with a chuckle. “How old are you?”
“Shut up,” Dean replies, elbowing him in the side. Nial reaches for the mashed potatoes, and Sally-May swats his hand with a serving spoon.
“Enough, you two. I’m sorry, Matthew, you’ll have to excuse these two; manners appear to be lost on them tonight.”
“It’s okay, this is… great, actually. Nice, I mean. I haven’t had a dinner like this in a while. Maybe ever, actually,” I say, the fire in my cheeks growing as my gaze moves around the table. But none of them are laughing at me. They all wear a sort of knowing smile, and Skye is nodding in my direction.
“It’s the best part of my day,” he says, and Sally-May scoops a helping of what appears to be shepherd’s pie from the baking dish in the middle and drops it onto the plate in front of her husband, Perry. Just like that, dinner is on, and everyoneis reaching in, scooping servings of sides and grabbing rolls, passing dishes sideways and across. I have no idea how it happened, but a few minutes later, when Connor walks in, I’m staring down at a plate piled as high as any other.
“I hope you left some for me,” he says, as he scoots in behind Nial and then takes his seat beside his partner, Hayden. His plate has a good helping of the shepherd’s pie on it that Hayden scooped for him before even serving himself, but none of the sides.
