The Maverick: A Small Town Single-Parent Romance (Hayden Family Book 2) by Jennifer Millikin

Author:Jennifer Millikin [Millikin, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JNM LLC
Published: 2021-05-09T18:30:00+00:00

17

Tenley

Casserole.

Tater tot, to be exact.

I’ve never had it, but it smells good enough to have kicked my salivary glands into working order. Just one look at the glass dish in the center of the Hayden dinner table tells me I’ll be hooked for eternity.

“Juliette, that smells incredible.” I smile at Warner’s mother as she leans over the table with a large wooden salad bowl in her hand.

“Well, eat up,” she replies. “There’s plenty.” She sets the salad in front of Beau, as far from me as possible. Either she’s sending a message to her husband, or she’s sending a message to me. Somehow I think it’s the latter. She’s always trying to get me to eat more food at breakfast.

The dishes are passed around the table. I take a bite of my dinner. Oh my God. It’s as good as it smells. I chew and swallow, then open my mouth to compliment Juliette a second time, but decide not to. Twice would be overkill. Juliette doesn’t seem the type to appreciate a barrage of compliments. Instead, I focus my attention across the table.

“Peyton, how was school?” I look at Warner’s daughter and arrange my face into polite interest.

The look she gives me back could cut ice, slay a demon, maybe even scare the robe off Voldemort. “Fine,” she answers, the answer sounding more like ‘fine-uh.’

Oh Lord. The ‘-uh’ ending. I did it. My sister did it. A hallmark of teenage girls, both past and present. I nod enthusiastically, as if Peyton has just told me that today she was elected president of student council. “That’s great.”

Warner meets my eyes. His shoulders lift, his eyes squeeze tight. He releases them both, the frustration clear. His mouth opens, but the voice comes from the far end of the table.

“You can be rude to used car salesmen and boys trying to get you to do something you don’t want to do.” Beau’s voice is low, and he doesn’t look up from his plate. He doesn’t need to. He might have used a megaphone for all the attention he commanded the moment he spoke. “But you will not be rude to a guest in my house.”

Peyton ducks her head, and I feel bad for her. I want to defend her, to tell them I was a teenager once too, that I had the same attitude. What I didn’t have was an intimidating grandfather to tell me to knock it off.

I decide to keep my mouth shut. Drawing the ire of Beau ranks pretty low on the list of things I’d like to do anytime soon. Peyton can weather this one on her own.

Now it’s awkward. Quiet. Forks and knives scrape plates. And then, in a miracle that rivals manna raining from heaven, Dakota walks from the kitchen into the dining room. She’s holding a dinner plate.

She stands beside Juliette and grins at the table. “Would you believe me if I said I smelled dinner all the way from my house?”

Juliette snorts. “No.” She takes Dakota’s plate and passes it to Warner.

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