“Mason seems a nice boy,” Rilla said.
“He’s not one of us,” Elijah pointed out. “I can’t go through that again.” He paused. “However nice he is.”
What was up with Mason anyway? His reaction to Elijah’s proffered hand was…unusual. Sure, some people weren’t touchy feely, but Mason didn’t seem merely reluctant to shake hands. He looked terrified.
As if on cue, Mason poked his head into the kitchen. “Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful.” He hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude on your family reunion though, so I’m happy to eat in my room.”
“Nonsense,” Annalise said briskly. “You’re our only visitor, apart from Elijah, so of course you can join us for dinner.” She frowned. “I hope you’re not vegetarian. Sorry, I should have checked.”
Mason slid into the empty chair opposite Elijah, His gaze lingered on Elijah, then he turned away, a slow flush creeping over his face. “I’ll eat anything. As long as you don’t have any olives hiding in there. I’m not fond of those.”
“No olives. Promise.” Annalise spooned a generous portion of food onto three plates, laid them on the table, and took the other seat, “I never cook with them when Elijah’s here as he hates them, and besides they don’t go with this recipe.”
Rilla settled herself on the barstool, and winked at Elijah. “See, something in common already.”
Elijah sighed. “Not going there, Aunty.”