Page 52 of Smoky Mountain Dreams

Christopher ignored her pronouncement. “But I really thinkwe both want to see if there’s something more there. He made it sound like thatanyway.”

“Let’s not rush, but let’s not act likethis can’t be something. Do we have a deal?”Christopher remembered howJesse had looked as he’d said those words, his eyes still hot from the orgasmthey’d shared on the desk, and his hands tight on the open car window, holdingChristopher’s gaze intently.

“Is he a good father?”

“I think so.”

“His own dad was a bit of a brute and his mother wasuseless, but sometimes those kids turn out okay anyway. I hear his sister isstill a sweetheart, and he was always a good boy.”

“He’s a good father.” Though Christopher had no idea really.He’d only seen him with his children for a few minutes, but he had a goodfeeling about what he’d seen.

“Well,” Gran said, nodding. “He’s a fan of your singing?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m a fan ofhim. Doesn’thurt that he’s richer than sin too. I can’t think of anyone who could keep youin better style.”

“Gran, that doesn’t matter to me.”

He didn’tthinkit mattered inany case. He hadn’t even been to Jesse’s house yet, or seen what his life waslike really. But Gran was obviously already well on her way to them gettingmarried in white tuxes while the kids danced under handfuls of tossed rosepetals.

“I’ve always wanted you to meet a nice doctor, but with theway the government is messing that whole system up, you’ll be better off withan heir to a biscuit fortune. That’s for sure. I always knew you had some sweethoney to get the bees buzzin’! Just had to have some patience!”

“Gran, you and that honey metaphor are gonna be the death ofme.”

She finished up her burger before asking, “Will he be atThanksgiving?”

“God, no!”

“Why not? Can’t you just imagine Bob’s face?”

“Yes, I can. He’d have a stroke.”

“Perfect. Then we’d be done with him.”

“Gran!”

“What?” She smiled innocently. “I’m old. I have dementia. Idon’t even know what I said.”

He snorted. “You do not have dementia and you know what yousaid. And yes, I can imagine his face. And the ambulance. And Mom blaming meforever for her asshole husband keeling over dead because I went and provedwhat I’ve been telling them for years—that I’m a big ol’ homo. I think I’llskip it.”

“Invite him. I want to meet him.”

“He’s got his own family. I’m sure he has his owntraditions. Besides, we’re not even close to being there yet and Thanksgivingis a month away. We’ve known each other a couple of weeks.”

“Tsk, tsk. Who wants to buy a cow if the milk is free?”

Christopher sighed and rubbed his fingers over his eyes. “Gran…”

She burst out laughing, her wrinkles deepening and hershoulders wobbling. “I’ll tell you who buys a cow with free milk! Someone wholikes to listen to that cow sing!”

“I’m trying to decide if I should be insulted that you’recalling me a cow or happy that you believe he actually likes my singing.”

“Well, a bull then. A singing, beautiful, milk-giving bull.”

Christopher ignored her nonsense and tried to eat again.With luck, Gran would move on and he’d be able to finish his meal. He took abite of his burger and stuffed two fries in his mouth.

“Here’s the thing, Christopher. I’ve been thinkin’ aboutwhen I die.”