Holding Her Hand (Reed Brothers Book 15)(43)

Mrs. Shepherd looks at me and smiles. “Would you like to help me in the kitchen?” she asks.

Relief washes over me. “I’d love to.”

“Send her back to me one piece,” Ryan jokes.

“You are not funny,” she says, and she shakes her finger at him.

“Not at all,” I say and I shoot him a look. My security guy follows us and I tell him, “You can go to the car. I’m fine.”

He shakes his head and stares straight ahead. “I’ll wait right here.”

“Really, it’s okay.”

His eyes linger on Mrs. Shepherd and he finds a place in the corner, out of the way, where he can wait. “Nope.”

“You know most of these people can’t hear, don’t listen to music, and have no idea who I am, right?”

“I’ll wait,” he says.

“Suit yourself.”

Suddenly, a familiar face bustles around the corner, wearing an apron. “What else can I do,” the girl asks.

Mrs. Shepherd smiles at her. “You can talk to Lark while I take these outside.”

Mrs. Shepherd leaves the room, and Ryan’s ex-girlfriend stares hard at me. “What are you doing here?”

“Ryan invited me. And you?” I stare back just as hard.

“Molly invited me. His mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” I hold out a hand. She slaps it instead of shaking it, and my security guy gets up to come toward us. “It’s okay,” I tell him out loud. “I got this.”

Samantha rolls her eyes and picks up the cookie box, shaking it as she peers through the little plastic window. “What kind of cookies are these?”

“I think they’re pecan something,” I say. “I’m not sure. My mother made them.”

She gets a gleam in her eye that I don’t quite understand, but I let it slide. “Molly will love them.”

“Hope so.”

Ryan’s mom bustles back into the room, and pulls out a tray and some vegetables. She hands them to me, and then gives me a knife. I chop and arrange vegetables in the completely silent room, until Ryan comes in and holds his mouth open like a baby bird, and waits for me to pop a carrot in. He chews loudly as he signs. “Dad says it’s time to eat.”

Mrs. Shepherd motions for everyone to follow her. We all end up on the deck, where there are picnic tables set up. Ryan makes a plate for me and one for him, and we sit down at a table with Mick, Samantha, and a few other people. Samantha sits down on Ryan’s other side and he scoots closer to me. He’s so close that I’m going to slide right off the bench.

I get up and motion for him to take my spot, and he looks up at me quizzically, but he does it. Then I squeeze between Samantha and him. I look at her and grin. “There,” I say. “That’s so much better.”

Mick tosses his head back and laughs out loud. “I like you, Lark,” he says.

I grin. “I like you too, Mick.”

“You must have balls this big,” he says as he mimics palming a baseball with two hands.

Ryan must have read our lips, because he chimes in. “She doesn’t,” Ryan says. “I checked.” He kisses me on my hot cheek. It’s a loud smack and it’s awesome.

Mrs. Shepherd walks over and holds out her hand. “My presents, please?” she says to Mick and Ryan. Ryan reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper. He wasn’t kidding. It’s the spiral notebook kind and everything. She unfolds it, and then she leans over and presses a lingering kiss to his forehead.

She shows it to me. “I used to tell him this story every night before he went to bed,” she tells me. Ryan has drawn a moon and some cows and sheep jumping over it. It’s really beautiful. “I’m going to put it on the wall with the others.”

Mick hands her the same kind of note.

“He writes stupid poetry,” Ryan says. Then he rolls his eyes.

“She loves my stupid poetry, thank you very much,” Mick replies.

She reads it, gets a little tear in her eye, and blinks it back. Then she kisses his forehead too, the same way she did Ryan’s.

“Ha!” Mick cries. “She liked mine better than yours.”

“She did not. Take it back!” Ryan cries. Then he picks up a forkful of potato salad and hooks the end of it with his finger, like he’s readying it to launch it at Mick.

Mrs. Shepherd pops him on the back of his head and he drops the makeshift weapon.

“Mom loves me more than you,” Mick tells him.

Ryan holds up a middle finger. His mom sees that and slaps at it to scold him. “Be nice!” she warns, pointing at them both.

“Should I give her the present I got her, or should I just leave it for her?” I ask Ryan.

“Where is it?”

“In my pocket.”

He holds out his hand and I lay the tiny box in it. He tugs his mom’s sleeve and she looks at the box. “What’s that?” she asks.

“From Lark,” he says.

“Is it handmade?” she asks.

Ryan starts to say, “Does it matter?” but I cut him off. “It is, actually. I made it myself.” My face heats again. I wish I could curtail some of the blushing.

She smiles and starts to open it. Then she stops and takes in a breath, covering her chest with her palm. She pulls the silver barrettes out of the box and holds them up. “You made these?”