The woman turns around to look at me with a half-smile. “The world needs bright colors to make it more interesting,” she reasons, and I can’t really argue, even though it seems like the answer has nothing to do with my question.
“And apparently flowers,” I mumble, annoyed when she shakes her head and turns away from me.
She looks over her shoulder. “You’re a spicy little thing, aren’t you?” she says, laughing. “I think I’ll like you just fine for my boy.”
“I’m not with your boy.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m here to give him a piece of my mind.”
“If you must, dear, but I think Gray would rather have a piece of something else from you.”
I can feel my face flame at her words because the first thing that comes to mind is a picture of Gray’s body naked and lying on my bed asking me to—I stop the thought by clearing my throat.
“Whatever. I’m telling him off and then I’m going back home to Kentucky and that’s that.”
“A fine plan, dear.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“I only have one question,” she asks as she throws a stick out for the baby cow. I watch as he goes lumbering after it and doesn’t stop until he reaches it and puts it back in his mouth. Did I just watch a cow play fetch?
“What’s that?” I ask, momentarily distracted.
“Why did you have to come all the way here to give him a piece of your mind? You could have done that on the telephone, surely.”
“Well, I wanted to see his face when I told him exactly what I thought about him,” I grumble, and then realizing that I’m talking about her son, I decide to try and soften my response. “No offense.”
“None taken, dear. Gray is as stubborn as a horse’s ass. It’s good to see he’s picked a woman who matches him.”
I’m inside following her to the kitchen before it hits me that Gray’s mom just threw shade at me. Somehow, I get the feeling the woman is a master at putting people in their place. I almost… like her.
“I love your kitchen, Ida Sue,” I say lamely. I even like her. In fact, so far, I like everything about this place, and somehow that makes me feel horrible. I needed more reasons not to like Grayson. His family, as crazy as they are, have nothing to do with Grayson himself. The kitchen looks like the kitchen that used to be on television for that old TV show about the family with a huge amount of kids that lived in the mountains of Virginia. I can’t remember the name now, but I remember grinning at the end when all the kids were telling each other goodnight and wishing I had a big family. Grayson can’t realize how blessed he is.
“Thanks, dear. The kids about ruined it when they remodeled, but at least they kept my kitchen table,” she says. I have no idea what she’s talking about; the room is a work of art. If this is almost ruining it, I wish someone would do it to my whole house. Plus, her kitchen table, as she calls it, looks like an outdoor picnic table covered in a large white table cloth. It has bench seating only and could probably hold an entire football team.
“I have the tomatoes sliced. I hate to be a bother, but I really need to go find Grayson so I can head back home,” I tell her, putting my knife down. In answer, she puts cucumbers down in front of me.
“These too, sweetie. Besides, Grayson’s out on the range with Blue. It will be much easier if you catch him here at supper time. Otherwise, you could be looking until dark out there in the pasture and never find him.”
“They don’t tell you where they’re working? That seems like it wouldn’t be safe. What if one of them got hurt or something?” I mumble, working with the cucumbers and wondering why things aren’t working out the way I had them planned out in my head. I’m thinking the one answer to that is Ida Sue.
“Men. Who can keep up with them?” Ida Sue says just as the back door opens up. I tense, half-hoping and half-dreading to see Gray walk through the door. It’s not, however. There’s an older man in a black cowboy hat, jeans, and a faded button-up shirt with sandy-blonde hair that has some gray mixed in. Following him is a tall man dressed much the same, but he has shaggy hair, no hat, a faded blue shirt that’s more unbuttoned than buttoned, and he looks like walking sex. He has this rumpled look about him that says he just crawled out of bed, or maybe it’s just the way those smoky brown eyes look that makes you wish he just crawled out of your bed.
“Damn, Mom, something sure smells good in here,” the man says, going to the stove where Ida Sue is standing. He grabs one of the rolls she’s putting in a bowl and takes a bite. My eyes are glued to him because he might be the prettiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Jesus, if all of Ida Sue’s kids look like Gray and this guy, then the woman should have never stopped. In fact, the country should pay her to continue to reproduce because good golly, Miss Molly, I had no idea they even made men like this. I sure haven’t seen them in Kentucky before.