The Hookup (Moonlight and Motor Oil #1)(45)

“Okay.”

“Have fun at the festival,” he bid.

“Are you, um . . . going?”

“I always swing by. The garage sponsors a tent that makes money for Pop Warner. I think this year it’s a hog roast. Or ribs. Or something. My GM sets it up but I gotta make an appearance.”

That was all he said. Not that he’d meet me there. Not that we could hang there for a while then go to Home and hang there for a while, and then maybe go to his place, or mine, and fuck each other until we pass out.

So maybe him calling me a pet name as derived from his German grandmother, something he didn’t give Shandra, wasn’t what it might seem to be, especially to Deanna if she knew about it (which she wouldn’t, I was learning).

And anyway, I’d just promised not to let that enter my head.

It wasn’t my business.

They were who they were and would be whatever they became.

And we were who we were and would be whatever we became.

And Johnny clearly did not intend for the twain to meet.

“Oh, okay,” I replied.

“Have a good day at work and talk to you later.”

“You too, Johnny.”

“Later, babe.”

“’Bye, Johnny.”

We hung up. Our texts came back up. And I stared at the screen, confused at what had just happened.

Deanna would sort it out.

But I was not telling Deanna.

I also wasn’t going to take her advice, though part of it I was.

I wasn’t going to pay attention. I wasn’t going to read into things to see if Johnny intended to make any play, then let him make it, possibly getting my hopes up only for them to be dashed.

What I was going to do was be careful, look after me and do what I’d told myself I was going to do weeks earlier when this all began.

I was just going to be.



As I drove up my drive that night, I stared at the yellow Ford Focus parked in front of my house, my heart thrumming a mad beat.

The dogs were out and they avoided my car as I parked, but they were on me the minute I opened my door.

I loved my babies.

But it was only cursory pets I gave them before I ran to my front door, the screen shut, the door behind it open.

Me and Swirl and Dempsey pushed through and we barely got two steps in before I shouted, “Addie!”

My sister appeared at the back of the hall coming out of my kitchen, my nephew on her hip.

“Jeez, the drama,” she drawled.

I raced down the hall and threw my arms around her and Brooks.

She only had one arm but she wrapped it around me and held tight.

Brooks pulled my hair.

I shifted a bit away, not letting her go, and declared happily, “I can’t believe you guys are here!”

“Well we are, in the flesh,” she returned.

I smiled at her, turned and gave Brooks a sloppy kiss on his neck. He tilted his head toward the kiss and squealed. I looked back to my sister.

“Where’s Perry?” I asked after my brother-in-law.

Her face shut down.

Oh no.

My enthusiasm at her surprise visit started to dissolve.

“What’s happening?” I queried gently.

“Nothing,” she answered, pulling from my hold but then depositing Brooks right in my arms before she moved back into the kitchen. “Brooklyn and me just needed a little vacation. We can’t afford a five star on the Riviera so we came to the next best place.” She stopped at my island and turned back to me. “Here.”

“And Perry couldn’t come on this vacation?” I pushed.

She shrugged one shoulder.

Brooks attacked my necklace.

I turned my attention to him, lifting a hand to carefully disengage the chain from his grip. “No, baby. That’s delicate and it was Grandma’s,” I whispered.

He looked at my face like I swear he understood me then giggled so hard, his roly-poly body bobbled in my arm and his attention shifted to the floor when Swirl trotted in.

Brooks squealed and reached toward my dog.

“The chicken is in the brine,” Addie declared and I looked to her. “I’m making my famous chicken parmigiana.”

“It’s my famous chicken parmigiana,” I corrected her.

“Even if someone steals something, they’ve stolen it so they have it so it’s theirs,” she returned.

“But I still have it so it’s mine.”

“We can share it,” she replied.

I didn’t want to talk about chicken parmigiana.

I wanted to talk about why my sister and her son were in my house without warning and Perry wasn’t with them.

“Addie—” I began.

“Put him down. The dogs love him and he loves them. He’ll be fine,” she ordered, moving toward the fridge.

“Addie—” I tried again.

“And get changed. I brought two bottles of tequila and the makings for my famous margarita mixer, and that is mine even though you stole it and you can’t say it isn’t.”

She was right. That was hers and I totally stole it, her margaritas were that marvelous.

“We’re eating, putting Brooks down and getting loaded,” she finished.

I decided to wade into the Perry situation after she’d had a margarita or two.