Page 47 of Unscripted Love
She narrowed her eyes and said. “Ma’am is worse than Mrs. Talbot.”
“Did you fellas have a nice night?” Grandma Gertie asked. “You don’t look like you slept very much.”
“Mom,” Mrs. Talbot and Clara said.
“I did a lot of wicked things, Grandma,” Chaz said, dropping a kiss on her wrinkled cheek.
“I taught you well then,” his grandmother said then winked at me.
“Come on in and have a cup of coffee,” I said to the ladies.
The table was small, so it was a pretty tight squeeze for the five of us, but we managed. I felt Chaz’s tension rolling off of him and placed my hand on his knee hoping to calm him a bit. I wasn’t worried about anything the women might say or questions they could ask. They were Chaz’s family, and I wanted to get to know them.
Chaz told them that we had attended Josh and Gabe’s Halloween party and had gone as Ross and Chandler from the showFriends. Sandra said she spent the evening playing bingo at the Catholic church while Clara said she and Chaz’s father, Denver, watched the ID channel.
“It’s not healthy to watch all those killing shows unless you’re writing a book like Chaz,” Grandma Gertie said.
“It’s about as unhealthy as you polishing the wood floors at your age,” Clara replied.
“Bullshit!” Grandma Gertie yelled. “It keeps me young.”
“Is that why you hobbled over here like you’ve been riding a horse for a week straight with no break?” Mrs. Talbot teased.
Chaz placed his hand on top of mine, and I turned to look at him. The smile he gave me warmed my heart because it was genuine and free of strain. I reacted in a way that felt natural to me. I pressed my lips to his for a quick kiss, earning an even happier smile. I was about to go back in for another kiss that was longer and more satisfying, but the happy sighs coming from around the table reminded me that we weren’t alone.
My mom pushed her chair back suddenly and stood up. “Time to go,” she announced.
“What? We just got here,” Grandma Gertie groused. “I only had two sips of my coffee.”
“Mom, you’ve already had three cups. All that caffeine probably isn’t good for you at your age,” Aunt Sandra said.
“What the hell is it with you girls harping at me about my age? For crying out loud, I’m only sixty-nine years old. Wanda Honeycutt was killing people at seventy!” Grandma rolled her eyes like she’d been saddled with the two biggest dimwits for daughters. “Besides, it’s just starting to get interesting over here.”
“I’m not sure that’s a standard you should try to live up to,” I told my grandmother. Mrs. Honeycutt was my former Sunday school teacher who spoke with a soft voice and always had a kind smile. She baked cookies, volunteered at the library, and killed her former employer after she was forced into an early retirement. We learned that small, sleepy towns often hid large, dark secrets.
“I’ll be sleeping with one eye open from now on,” Aunt Sandra said. “Come on, Mom. Let’s give Chaz and Kyle some privacy.”
“Fine, but I want all the juicy tidbits later, Charles Bailey. You know you’re my favorite grandchild,” Grandma said as she reluctantly headed to the front door.
“I’m youronlygrandchild,” I reminded her.
Luckily, Kyle laughed during the entire exchange instead of bolting for the door. I looked over and smiled at him. “They mean well,” I told him.
“Yes, they certainly do.”
We stared at each other awkwardly for a few heartbeats before we closed the distance between us. “Kyle, I want to kiss you now.”
“Okay then,” Kyle replied. We might’ve been starting over, but I was glad we kept our familiar little phrase.
I leaned in slowly to savor the moment because in many ways it felt like it was our first kiss all over again. I had read many kissing scenes in books over the years and even started writing some of my own. There were only so many words a person could use to describe the tempo of a kiss or so many places for a man to put his hands. As vast as the English language was, only a handful of adjectives worked well. Knowing those words and living them were two different things though.
I seriously thought I was going to melt on the spot when Kyle slipped his tongue into my mouth and teasingly flicked it against the tip of mine. I tried to suck his tongue deeper into my mouth, but he pulled it back with a chuckle. Always before, Kyle kissed me like he thought I would disappear, but that morning he kissed like a man who believed I was there to stay. He took his time exploring and tasting me, sending butterflies into flight inside my stomach and fireworks exploding behind my eyelids just like I’d read in books. He made my blood hum, my heart pound, and my body crave his touch. Yet, I’d discovered new adjectives I seldom used, or read, to describe the art of kissing and they were all a variation of the word consume.
I wasn’t just kissed by Kyle; I was immersed in him. I didn’t just partake, I imbibed. I became inebriated from Kyle’s mouth quicker than the time I stole a sip of my granddad’s moonshine when I was thirteen. I knew there were prettier words to describe the emotions Kyle made me feel, but the only one I could muster after our kiss ended was, “Wow.”
“I’ll say,” Kyle said breathlessly. “Um, you better get a move on with your laundry.”
Neither one of us wanted to stop kissing and touching for laundry, but our bond still felt tenuous. I wasn’t sure how far to push things, so I leaned forward and pecked his lips briefly before I went to my room to gather laundry.