“Sorry. I should have introduced myself.” Bonnie focused on steadying her voice and offered her hand. “I’m Bonnie Drummond.”
He clasped his hand in hers, his grip solid, yet not overly so. While his smile was gracious and his demeanor cordial, there was no mistaking—this man was capable of dark and dangerous actions. “Welcome to our home, Miss Drummond. I’ve heard many lovely things about you.”
“You have?” Hearing wild stories, she’d buy. Or maybe some colorful descriptions including her penchant for f-bombs, but lovely? “From who?”
Genuine humor crept into his features, the type she suspected few ever laid witness to. He released her hand and nodded. “Indeed. It appears you’ve earned many champions in the last few days.”
There was something about the way he said it. An undercurrent that spoke of hidden meanings and ulterior motives. Rather like an anonymous note slipped under a bedroom door.
And, Bonnie being who she was, very much wanted to pick that note up and learn more about it. Except the door to the kitchen opened at that exact moment.
Olga hustled out with two trays loaded with meat.
But she wasn’t the only one coming from the house. A whole string of people followed behind her, kicking a round of We’re here! Hello! and How the hell are ya? into gear.
And they were absolutely not the type of people she’d expected. First out the door was a guy she’d expect to find at one of the biker bars her dad favored, his arm around a long-haired brunette who rocked some serious curves. Another couple followed that looked more like they belonged on the cover of a modern Western romance. But it was the last two out the door that were the real shockers—a man in his early thirties with ruler straight black hair down to his shoulder blades and an older woman with equally long hair in an enviable silver color she’d bet a good number of females would pay damned good money to duplicate. While they moved beside each other with obvious familiarity and affection, Bonnie’s gut told her they weren’t a couple like the first two pairs were.
Evette and Sergei meandered toward their guests, Evie easily doling out warm hugs. Kir and Roman moseyed toward the new arrivals as well and traded their share of handshakes and backslaps, but Emerson beelined it toward the classically elegant older woman and nearly knocked her over with a fierce hug.
So tied up in her sideline observations, Bonnie didn’t realize Cassie was still beside her until she spoke in a hushed, yet highly amused voice. “I probably shouldn’t point this out, but you’re gaping like a tie-dyed elephant just paraded onto the lawn.”
She was?
Shit.
She snapped her mouth shut and schooled her expression, but the disbelief was still evident in her voice. “I thought you said these people had private jets and shit.”
“Oh, yeah,” Cassie said. “And shit for sure.” She dipped her head toward the biker couple. “Jace is essentially the entertainment kingpin of Texas—or for our part of the country, for that matter. That’s his wife, Vivienne. Who, by the way, has a background pretty similar to yours. She’s now running her own marketing, PR and event planning company in Dallas.
“The blond-haired cowboy with the killer swagger and the gorgeous woman with him are Trevor and Natalie Raines. Trevor grew up on a farm and has a serious love for horses, but his biggest passion is airplanes. He’s the one with the charter service. Natalie was a single mom to a boy just four years older than Emerson when the two of them met. Had a mega-asshole for an ex who liked to throw his fists when things didn’t go his way.”
The silver-haired woman looked up as if she sensed someone talking about her and locked gazes with Bonnie.
“That’s Ninette,” Cassie said softly. “She’s Jace’s momma. Coolest lady I know—next to my aunt Freida, anyway. She’s got a bestie named Sylvie who couldn’t make it today. She stayed home to take care of Trevor and Natalie’s boy so they could have a night out alone in New Orleans tonight.”
“And the yummilicious guy next to her?”
Ninette grinned and nudged the man beside her. He glanced up, spied Cassie and Bonnie and waved.
“That’s Danny Parker. He’s a Haven brother, too, and his sister is married to another guy who didn’t make the trip today—Zeke Dugan.” Cassie clamped her hand around Bonnie’s triceps and tugged her forward. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
Shit.
She hated meeting new people. Was always worried she’d say something stupid or go all-in and offend the ever-lovin’ hell out of someone. Though, she had to admit, this particular crew did seem to be her kind of people. “What do you mean brother? These guys don’t look related.”
“They’re not. But sometimes family built on choice is stronger than those built on blood.”
Truer words had never been spoken. She’d have said as much but they moved into talking distance too quickly. One by one, she shook hands and traded hellos and nice-to-meet-yous, the entirety of the New Orleans crew staunchly bolstering the space behind and around her.
Danny was the last of the group to greet her and, while his smile was just as genuine as everyone else’s, his expression held manly appreciation as well. One of those easy-going, flirtatious looks that invited a girl to linger a while and see where things led. He’d also held her hand a fraction longer than everyone else and focused on her as though there was no one else in the backyard. “So, have you lived in NOLA your whole life?”
“Born and bred, yeah.”
“That’s awesome.” Danny shifted enough to make eye contact with Jace. “Maybe we could take her with us when we go out scouting. I bet she’d know the best places for our kind of shop.”
“Scouting for what?” Evie said.
“Been talkin’ to Danny about going in on a custom ride business in New Orleans,” Jace said. “The shop he opened in Dallas is at max capacity. We figured we spend enough time here, this might be a good spot to branch out.”
“Custom rides?” Bonnie said. “We talkin’ cars or motorcycles?”
Danny shrugged, but his smile was pure delight. “Either. Both. Whatever the customer wants.”
“He’s really good,” Vivienne said. “You should see the one he made for Zeke.”
“Oh, yeah,” Natalie said. “A ’69 cherry red Z28.”
“Well, that was more of a refurb with extra engine added in than a custom,” Danny said. “But she is pretty.”
Hoooly shit. She could talk bikes and cars. Maybe this wouldn’t be the barbecue from hell after all.
Roman’s heat blanketed her back all of a second before his hand cupped her shoulder. His words were anvil heavy compared to the light conversation that had come before it. “Bonnie cannot go. Not without me.”