“Hook, if you don’t channel your inner Elsa and let this go so I can eat, you”—she arches a blonde brow in challenge—“are really going to be walking the plank.”
She turns on her heel, proving once again that she doesn’t give a fuck that I’m bigger, stronger, faster, and a whole lot deadlier than her.
“You may not have come home all that much in the last few years”—that’s a dig if I’ve ever heard one—“but in case you need the reminder, I get hangry if I’m not properly fed.”
No truer words have ever been spoken. I even spotted the warning sign she has hanging in her kitchen.
Hangry (han-gree) adj. A state of emotional turmoil caused by extreme hunger; a lack of food resulting in a negative change in personality and possible angry outbursts.
Experience with such outbursts has me throwing an arm around her shoulders—and if I enjoy the feel of her body snuggled against mine a bit too much, we just won’t mention it to her brothers—and lead us downstairs.
I didn’t think it was possible, but the noise volume has increased in the time we were gone. Rounding the corner into the open-concept back of the house, I can see why—the number of people has doubled.
“Oh, Gem, it smells amazing in here,” Maddey gushes, heading straight for the kitchen island.
The sweet and tangy scent of peppers and onions fills the house along with the sizzle of chicken cooking on the skillet across the stove’s burners.
“She made fajitas!” says Holly, one of the newer additions to their Coven, snapping her fingers and gesturing with her arms like a flamenco dancer.
Maddey giggles, the sound melodic and doing funny things to my insides. “Is that your first Friends reference of the day, Hol?”
“Yeah right.” Gemma scoffs. “It’s already after noon—she has to be close to three or four by now.” She makes up a plate and hands it to a salivating Maddey. Perks of having a personal chef as a friend.
“Dex! Bro.” Sammy beams when he spots me, coming over to pull me into a back-slapping hug, the force of it knocking the breath from my lungs. It may have been years since his high school football days, but he hasn’t lost any of his linebacker build, that’s for sure.
“Hey, Samz.” I return the welcoming embrace. He and Maddey have been attached at the hip since forever. Naturally, we grew close as well.
Honestly, if not for the fact that he and Maddey have the same taste in men, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had gotten married.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Taking his life in his hands, he reaches over Maddey’s shoulder and takes a pepper off her plate.
“Oh, you know…” Maddey waves a hand in the air. “The Die Hard Trilogy brought him in to play bodyguard.”
The glare she sends me has my balls tingling in both the Holy crap she’s sexy and the Shit, she’s gonna tase us again way.
“Oh, that’s hot,” Lyle says.
“Ooo, can we read a bodyguard romance for book club next?” Becky bounces over to lean across the counter. The Admiral in my pants salutes the suggestion, but as she is the eternal troublemaker of The Coven, he should be wary of where it’s coming from.
Sammy ignores them, instead turning to ask me, “They did, did they?” He arches a brow, decades of knowing Tink giving him a good idea of how well that went down.
“Yup,” Maddey answers with annoyance.
This whole scenario is going to be an uphill battle, and Maddey’s stubbornness? Yeah, it’s going to turn it into a full-on ruck run.
“Man,” Sammy whistles. “What I wouldn’t give to have been here when you told her that.” His gaze shifts back to me. “Did she yell?”
“She tased me in the balls,” I deadpan.
“Oh shit.” Sammy coughs, sputtering through his laughter. The rest of the room experiences a similar reaction while Maddey continues to eat like it’s just another day.
“If you need any help with them, I volunteer as tribute,” Lyle calls out from where he’s coloring with the Donovan twins.
“Kyle, get his travel cage.” Skye snickers at Lyle’s innuendo.
Personally, I find Lyle highly entertaining. He’s always reminded me of Jack from Will and Grace whenever he would crash the video chats Maddey took at his coffee shop.
“But he’s just so cute.” Kyle kisses Lyle on the cheek.
“Do you offer your ball-handling services to all the guys?” Holly takes the spot on the couch across from them.
“Only until they’re taken.” Lyle gives Holly a wink. “Don’t worry, Sweets—I’ll leave Vince’s in your very capable hands.”
“Just try to keep it out of the kitchen, will ya?” There’s a teasing tilt to Kyle’s lips.
“Did nobody think to tell me it was Dex Madz was with upstairs?” Sammy’s complaint is brushed off without any concern from the ladies.
Maddey spins on her stool, a smile peeking around the edges of the fajita shoved in her mouth as she looks around her house full of crazy. Then those icy eyes rise to me, and the slight narrowing at the corners tells me all I need to know.
I’m in big fucking trouble.
Chapter Nine
The way Dex’s dark eyes flare when he meets the Be afraid, be very, very afraid death glare I send his way has a kernel of satisfaction blooming in my belly, but I’m still too fucking pissed to enjoy it.
Of all the highhanded, overprotective, always thinking they know best things my brothers could have done, calling in Dex takes the cake.
I get it. Really, I do.
I haven’t been the most receptive—okay, I haven’t been receptive at all when it comes to suggestions on what to do about my…situation, but to just bring someone in without my consent…
For that person to be Dex—DEX!
Holy crap. I don’t even want to contemplate what this means.
A familiar weight settles against my leg, and I drop a hand down to scratch Trident behind his ear. My boy is always able to sense when I need his comfort.
Rehashing everything with Dex has to have been one of my least favorite things I’ve done this year. It’s a miracle I’m able to eat right now, but…
1. It’s Gemma’s cooking.
2. It’s fajitas.
3. It’s food, and I’m starving.
“Oh, man. I’m missing fajitas?” I spin the rest of the way on my stool to see Tucker’s pouting face on my television. Guess they decided video chat was the best way to check on the progress the guys were making.
“Yup.” I shove another bite of spicy chicken goodness into my gullet. “Soooo good,” I mumble.
“Save me some?” He perks up.
“Not likely.”
“Madz.” This time there’s a whine to go with the pout. “Come on. You know I’m your favorite.”
I slap a hand over my face when a piece of pepper burns my sinuses from snorting it out my nose.
“Yeah right, Tuck.” Sammy leans on the counter next to me, folding his arms across his chest. “You don’t even make top five with Madz.”
“Blondie.” Tucker scans the room for Jordan, looking for backup.