Don't Hex with Texas

Page 52

I bit my tongue to force back the impulse to say that actually, the men up there were root vegetables. I knew she’d probably take that the wrong way and say something that would really embarrass Owen.
Out of consideration for his exhaustion, I decided to deflect the subject. “That looks a lot like Mom’s china,” I said, wandering over to the dinner table as if to admire it.
“Yeah, it’s the same pattern,” she said. “I loved it so much when she had that wedding tea for me that I decided to get some for myself. Wasn’t I lucky that Murphy’s still had it in stock, all these years later?”
“It’s a classic pattern,” I said, in the most neutral response I could manage. I couldn’t help but wonder how recently she’d acquired the china from the burgled jewelry store—or if maybe there were a few place settings missing from Mom’s china cabinet. Then because I couldn’t help myself, I asked, “Oh, is that a new necklace? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”
She stuck her chest out to display it better, and I heard Owen choke on his tea. “Do you like it? It goes with my new bracelet. And see, matching earrings, too.”
Now I was even more suspicious. Either Dean was selling drugs, she was selling her body, or something very, very fishy was going on.
Dean came back inside with a plate piled with steaks. “Steaks are ready,” he said. “How about the rest of dinner?”
Sherri fluttered her hands. “Ooh! I just have to get it on the table.” She ran to the kitchen and brought out take-out containers of slaw and baked beans. She dumped the beans into a bowl and put it in the microwave, then stuck a serving spoon in the slaw and put it on the table. I felt a little embarrassed that my family was being so very redneck in front of Owen, but then I glanced at him and saw that he didn’t seem to be particularly upset. Of course not. He embarrassed easily, but he wasn’t really a snob. Come to think of it, this was kind of the way he lived, eating out of take-out containers, though he did so in a multimillion-dollar Manhattan town house.
Oops, that meant I was the snob. I had to ask myself if I suspected Sherri because she really might be our greedy rogue wizard, or if it was because I was looking for an excuse to see her as my enemy. It was a tough call.
She got the beans out of the microwave and said, “Now, everybody take a seat. Sit wherever you want. We usually sit on the sofa and eat in front of the TV, so it’s not like we have usual seats at the table.”
Owen took a seat, and I sat across from him. Dean hovered with his platter of steaks. “Do you want yours more rare or well-done?” he asked Owen.
“Do you have anything somewhere in between?”
Dean laughed. “Right answer. I think that’s the way all of them are.” He sounded friendly enough now, so perhaps his earlier coolness had been about something else. More than likely, he and Sherri had had a spat soon before we got there. He served steaks to the rest of us, then took his seat. Sherri passed the side dishes around, then Dean said, “Dig in!”
Owen had managed to avoid the worst of the family interrogation so far. My parents must have been so happy to learn that I had a man, any man, that they weren’t going to look the gift horse in the mouth. My brother, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Dean barely waited until we’d started eating before he went on the offensive.
“So, Owen,” he said, “you’re from New York, right?”
Owen didn’t even flinch. He’d gone into his business mode. “Yes. I live in the city now, but I grew up in a small town not far outside the city.”
I held my breath, hoping Dean wouldn’t ask where Owen was born. That was a touchy subject, since he didn’t actually know for sure, and I didn’t want to have to get into that. Fortunately, Dean didn’t go there. Instead, he asked, “Where did you go to school?”
Owen gave him an even gaze and said, “Yale, for my undergraduate through my doctorate.” He didn’t blush, but I felt my own face growing warm with pride on his behalf. Yep, my guy—or ex-guy, or whatever he was—was hot stuff.
Even Sherri seemed to be impressed. “Whoa, so you’re like a doctor?”
“I’m not a medical doctor. It’s a PhD, and it mostly means I spent a lot of time in school writing a lot of papers.”
Dean didn’t see the need to back down. If anything, he was more intent on finding and exposing whatever was wrong with Owen. I wasn’t sure if he was really being the protective big brother on my behalf, or if he was looking for weaknesses so he could assure himself that he was still the hottest guy in town. “And what is it you do?” I was actually rather surprised that nobody had yet asked the question. The fact that Owen had worked with me had seemed like answer enough so far.