Sam had no idea what to make of Braydon’s mother. Maureen continued to speak with hybrid comments filled with loving and crass observations about the McCulloughs while she bustled about the kitchen heating leftovers.
Sam noticed a microwave tucked between two raised cabinets, but Maureen continued to pull out pots and pans as she heated up food. Sam was willing to make the assumption that a women like Maureen never used a microwave. In just the brief few minutes she’d been in her presence, she could already tell Maureen McCullough was a woman who took great pride in working hard for her family and would scoff at shortcuts.
When the food was heated she placed a hefty bowl of stew in front of Braydon and Sam. There was also a bowl of roasted potatoes seasoned in rosemary and a basket of homemade biscuits wrapped in a dishcloth with red ticking that looked hand sewn.
The food was different than anything she ever tried in the city or anything she ever saw her own mother make, but it was still quite good. As Maureen prattled on about Frank, Braydon’s father, Sam watched Braydon shut his eyes in pleasure as his mother’s cooking settled into his belly.
Sam smiled. Most comfort food was embellished because it came from a mother’s love. Braydon obviously tasted more than just stew with each bite. He tasted recipes shaped by traditions and was likely remembering memories of being in this familiar place. She was happy to witness this settling side of him. She liked watching Braydon at home.
Once she finished her supper, Sam pushed her bowl away. Without pausing for even a syllable, Maureen chattered on as she stood and carried the dishes to the sink and began washing them. The kitchen was clearly her domain. She navigated through the motions of tidying up without ever taking her eyes off Sam or her son.
It occurred to Sam that her anxiety about being here had disappeared the moment she met Maureen McCullough. She analyzed the women and wondered what magical gift she held that made her able to put guests at such ease. Maurine was a natural when it came to hospitable courtesy, even if she didn’t necessarily follow propriety.
As they all laughed at an anecdote Maureen shared about a woman at the butcher, Sam decided that for as much as she loved the McCulloughs' log cabin, she loved their mother more.
Contrary to her first impression, Samantha saw the beautiful woman that was Maureen McCullough. She imagined her hair was once a fiery red to match her spicy personality although now it was more fawn colored with natural highlights in the deepest shade of orange. Laugh lines softened her dark green eyes. Her clipped un-manicured fingernails spoke volumes about how no nonsense she was when it came to taking on the labors of mothering seven children.
At first her brisk mannerisms made Maureen come off as abrasive, Sam would now describe her as soft. Not due to her round bosom or generous curves, but because of the way Maureen would titter and giggle in between stories with absolute femininity, her eyes twinkling like a little girl's. It didn’t matter how many times she said bollocks or cock in a sentence. It was all just noise coming from a sweet, loving woman with a dirty mouth.
They talked until well after one in the morning. After such a heavy meal and four hours of travel, Sam was ready to call it a night. They still had to carry in their bags from the car. The idea of carrying anything at this hour made sleeping in her travel clothes tempting.
Maureen said, “Well, I’m off to bed. I’ll see you two in the morning for breakfast.” And with that she was gone.
Braydon’s mother bustled out of the kitchen and climbed the steps. When Sam turned back to Braydon, he was smiling.
“What?” she asked.
“What do you think?”
Seeing no need to lie, Sam smiled and admitted, “I love her.”
He beamed and Sam was certain he was about to kiss her, but the front door opened and someone yelled, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph has the prodigal son returned?”
Braydon pulled back and groaned as he stood from his seat when a young man with rakishly spiked hair and sharp crystal blue eyes came into the kitchen.
“Kelly,” he greeted as he embraced his younger brother in a backslapping hug.
Ah, so this is the loner.
“It’s good to have you home, my brother.”
“Good to be home.”
They broke apart and Kelly turned to Sam. He leered at her with faintly sinister amusement while she tried not to bristle under his scrutiny.
Whoa. That expression should be photographed and put in the dictionary under the word smolder.
“Well, hello, pretty lady. I see you’ve come with the wrong brother, but I’d be glad to remedy that for ya and make sure you come again.”
Braydon shoved his brother out of the way. “Kelly, this is my girlfriend, Samantha.”
“Braydon, don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking with the lassies. How long are you here for, beautiful?”
Sam wasn’t sure if Kelly realized he was pissing his brother off, but she didn’t really want to get in the middle.
“Three weeks.”
He made an expression that Sam could only describe as disappointment.
“That, love, is a shame. Three weeks with this lot and you’ll be crazy as a loon by the time you head home. I can’t be exposing myself to anymore crazies.” He leaned in a theatrically whispered, “You see, they all know I’m the McCullough with the biggest cock and, the crazies, well, they don’t like to share.”
This time when Braydon shoved his brother Kelly actually stumbled and landed in a kitchen chair. “Shut up, moron. She’s not one of your trollops.”
Kelly laughed. “Oh, now Bray, it isn’t kind to call your friends’ mothers trollops.”
“I don’t even want to know what friends you’re referring to, but I hope they kick your ass when they find out you're diddling their mums. You’re disgusting. Samantha, I’m going to get our bags. Kelly, try not to repulse or corrupt her within the next three minutes.”
“Oh, come on now, Bray. I’m not you. Give me a little credit. I cannot corrupt a beautiful woman in three minutes. With stamina like mine I’ll ask for at least an hour.”
Braydon rolled his eyes heavenward in clear frustration. Truthfully though, Sam was having a hard time not laughing. As Braydon walked toward the door he turned and said, “You know what, Kelly?”
“What, big brother?”
“Take that big cock you’re so proud of and go fuck yourself.”
With that he stomped out of the house.
Kelly turned back toward Sam and was smiling at her as if they shared a secret. She finally gave into her smile and said, “You’re mean.”
He laughed. “Not mean, smart. You’ll see. Everyone around here kisses Bray’s arse. I make sure he doesn’t get ahead of himself and grow too cocky.”
“Ha! And you’re not cocky?”
He gave her a wicked half smile and said, “Samantha, love, I thought I already made it clear, out of all the McCullough men, I’m the cockiest.”
Braydon walked in and dropped the bags onto the wood floor. “You ready to head up to bed, Samantha?”
“Where am I sleeping?”
“In my room with me.”
It took her a minute to find her words. Kelly was distracted with making some kind of sandwich, but Sam was certain he wasn’t missing a single word. “Braydon, I cannot share your room. This is your parents’ house.”