Accidental Knight: A Marriage Mistake Romance(23)

“You’ll be fine, Drake.”

He shifts the truck into drive, an amused quirk pulling at his lips. “Your funeral, lady.”

I laugh. “Oh, wanna bet? Dead serious. Let’s bet if he’ll be there or not.”

“Bet what?” His eyes are still on the rear-view mirror, even as we roll forward. “In case you’re wondering, I can’t ante up a fraction of what you’re sitting on now.”

I roll my eyes. We really are strangers. If he knew me at all, he’d know I can’t even handle sticking money into those dumb claw machines for cuddly stuffed animals.

“Not money. I’m talking about supper.” I can’t think of anything else. “If Edison’s not there, I’ll cook. If he is, you’ll impress me.” Thinking of the tray in the hallway last night, I say, “But it has to be more than a sandwich and fruit. Unless, I mean, that’s all you can handle...”

His eyes shift over, shooting me a sharp look. “Please. If you have my famous steak and hash browns, you’ll fill up on your own damn words. Last night, I didn’t know if you were hungry or not. I’m as good a chef as I am a lay, woman.”

Oh. My. God.

Does he hear what’s on his own tongue? It’s whip-sharp and suddenly too good at lashing my cheeks red.

He says it without a smidge of doubt. And the satisfied glint in his eyes when they glance at me tells me it might be true. My gaze drops to his hands, resting on the wheel, imagining the wicked things they could do with a frying pan or spreading any woman wide–

“No offense intended,” I say a little too quickly, desperate to banish crazy thoughts. “The sandwich was good, really. But it’s not exactly worthy of the stakes.”

“You’re welcome.”

I shift in the seat so I can look out the back window. Edison has stopped near the barn now, munching on grass. The rope is still in my hand, so I reach between the seats to drop it in the back. It plops down next to a big manila envelope. “Are those the papers I signed last night?”

He shoots a quick glance my way, then looks out the windshield again, at the road. “You trying to change the subject?”

I twist and sit down in my seat again. “No. I just noticed it. Think my hand still hurts today from all that signing.”

“So we’ve got ourselves a bet? Loser has to cook tonight?” he asks.

I stare at him a moment, wondering if he’s serious. “Yeah. We’re on.”

“Hope you know how to cook Mexican. I feel like enchiladas.”

Fully confident I won’t have to cook, I still answer, “Of course. Beef or chicken?”

“How ’bout both?”

I smile. “I hope you know how to make them too. If not, guess I’ll settle for tacos.”

“You won’t be settling for nothing. I will.”

My smile widens, and I shake my head as he shoots another glance my way. “We can stop at the grocery store while in town so you can get everything you’ll need.”

“No need. Got a bunch of meat in the freezer. Went a little crazy last week, knowing I’d be holed up in the house a while. The cupboards, fridge, and freezer are bursting at the seams. Everything you’ll need, Chef Reed.”

I burst out laughing at how ridiculous 'Chef Reed' sounds.

He’s a fun one to joust with, I’ll give him that.

I twist to glance out the back window again, but we’re too far away to see Edison. He’ll be there, though. I know it.

I catch sight of the envelope again. He must plan on dropping the papers off at Sheridan’s office while we’re still in town. Fine, one less thing to do later.

After this meeting at North Earhart Oil, I’m sure I’ll be just about wiped out. Hopefully my luck holds up and I don’t have to make him a king’s fiesta feast.

A sudden heaviness tugs at my chest.

Slowly, I sigh, dreading what’s a few more miles down the road. “So, I suppose I should warn you about my parents.”

“No need.”

I blink, but it only takes me a second to catch the drift. “Oh. Gramps already did, I take it?”

“Yeah. Him and life. I know their type and I’m ready.”

I watch the fence posts as we roll past, my brain spinning.

For as much as my parents said about Gramps, he rarely spoke about them.

I have to ask.

“What’d he tell you?” There has to be more. Much more, and I need to know where to start.

“Everything.”

Nice and vague. If he notices me side-eyeing him, he doesn’t show it.

“Yeah? What’s everything?”

“You really want the dirt?” He waits until the truck hits the highway. “From the beginning?”

No doubt. I need to know what dirt he means, and he needs to be truly ready for an ugly scene.

I nod. “Let’s hear it.”

“Well, Jonah told me your ma never knew her father. No one knew who he was, not even her mother, who worked at a bar in town. He said your mother knew your old man was her only hope of leaving this place and reaching for her big dreams, so a week before they graduated high school, she told him she was pregnant.”

Holy hell. What?!

I try to stifle a gasp, sucking at my lip. If it came from Gramps, it must be true.