“Just an observation,” he replied softly, without meeting anyone’s eyes.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Deacon cleared his throat. “Okay, then, Miss Twinkle Toes. Guess you’re getting your precious dance lessons.”

Willow squealed with excitement, her body bouncing in her chair beside me. “I want a pink leotard, Miss Alex.”

I grinned. “I think I can make that happen.”

Beth set down a large platter of ham. “Well, now. I think that’s everything.” After she dropped down into the empty chair at the other end of the table, she nodded at Deacon. “Will you return thanks, son?”

My mouth gaped open when Deacon laced his fingers together and bowed his head. It took me a moment in my stupor to bow my head as well. Deacon’s deep voice boomed through the silent dining room. “Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies and our bodies to your service. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoed around the table.

We then started passing around the bowls of food. “This all looks so delicious,” I said, spooning some green beans onto my plate.

“Thank you,” Beth replied with a pleased smile. After she offered me some corn bread, she asked, “Now, where is it you’re from originally?”

“Marietta. I moved here when I was seventeen to live with my aunt and uncle.”

After nodding her head in acknowledgment, Beth chewed thoughtfully on her corn bread, and I could see the questions about my past whirling through her mind. Deciding to put her out of her misery, I said, “My parents were killed in a car accident when I was seventeen. My brother and I came to live with my mother’s brother.”

Beth’s face fell at my admission. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. Such a terrible tragedy for one so young.”

A knot formed in my throat, and I could only nod my head in acknowledgment. Although almost ten years had passed since my parents died, there were still times when I found it almost unbearable to think about, much less talk about. Most of my initial grieving had gotten pushed aside to be strong for Charlie.

“I believe your uncle is a lifer here?” Deacon asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Well, for most of his life, I suppose. He was twenty when he got married and moved here to be with my aunt’s family.”

“He’s a former state trooper.”

My brows rose in surprise at all of Deacon’s knowledge about my family. “Yes. He retired two years ago with forty years with the Georgia State Patrol.”

“Ah, God’s Special Police,” Bishop said with a grin.

I laughed. “A lot of his local PD buddies teased him with that.”

“Does he still have ties to the GSP or the local PD?” Deacon asked.

With a shrug, I replied, “I don’t really know. I think he’s enjoying his retirement a lot. He has a cabin in Blue Ridge, and he and my aunt spend a lot of time there.” Gazing down the table at him, I smiled. “Why all the interest in my uncle’s law-enforcement ties?”

Deacon swiped his mouth with a napkin. “I was hoping he might help me with a speeding ticket.”

“It’s judges—not patrolmen—who fix tickets.”

He winked at me. “Good to know.”

Something told me he didn’t have any tickets that needed fixing. He was more concerned with how Uncle Jimmy might affect his club. Wanting to steer the subject away from Uncle Jimmy, I said, “This is delicious. You’re a wonderful cook, Mrs. Malloy.”

“Call me Beth. And thank you so much.”

“I should probably hire you to teach me to cook. I’m afraid that I’m not very good at it.”

Beth smiled. “I would be happy to teach you. But there would be no charge. It would be a pleasure.” Gazing around the table, she said, “Since I wasn’t blessed with daughters, I’d love to be able to pass on my knowledge.”

“You got a granddaughter,” Deacon protested.

“That’s right. I do. But it’s going to be a few more years before she’s ready to be unleashed in the kitchen.”

Willow paused in gnawing on a piece of ham to eye Beth. “But you said I’m your bestest cooking helper.”

“And you are, sweetheart. But you’re going to stay a helper for now rather than the cook.” At Willow’s crestfallen expression, Beth said, “You need to put all your energy into your schoolwork and being a ballerina.”

Tilting her head to the side, Willow mulled over Beth’s response. Then, as she perked up, Willow turned to me. “Can my leotard have sparkles on it?” she asked.

“I don’t see why not.”

“And I want a pink tutu. Do I have to wear white tights or can I have pink?” As she rambled off more and more questions, her plate remained untouched.

“Finish your green beans,” Deacon instructed gruffly, showing a rare moment of his paternal side.

“Okaaay,” Willow mumbled.

Deacon’s brows rose while fire flashed in his eyes. “What did you say?”

Willow tucked her head to her chin, refusing to meet his eye. “Okay.”

“You say ‘yes, sir’ when answering me.”

“Don’t be so hard on her,” Rev said.

Deacon pinned Rev with a hard glare. “Don’t tell me how to parent my kid.”

“She’s only five, Deacon,” Rev challenged.

At the rising voices of her father and uncle, Willow began shrinking down in her chair. Desperate to soothe her distress and ease the building tension between the brothers, I blurted, “So which one of you Malloy boys is going to take me for a ride on his motorcycle? ’Cause, you know, I’m a motorcycle virgin.”

Rev’s fork clattered noisily onto his plate as he stared, dumbfounded by my outburst, while Deacon’s finger froze in midpoint at Rev. Bishop started coughing on the large bite of corn bread he’d swallowed. He reached for his iced tea and drained it in a long gulp.

“I do believe my request has rendered you all speechless,” I mused.

“I think it’s hearing the word ‘virgin’ come out of your lips,” Bishop replied with a cheeky grin.

“What’s a virgin?” Willow asked.

I giggled at the look of horror that crossed all three Malloy brothers’ faces at Willow’s question. “Something you’ll find out about when you’re older,” I answered, letting the boys off the hook. My response elicited a sigh of relief from the men and a nod of approval from Beth.