“Fuckin’ hell, now I gotta fight wood before I see my parents.”
“Now you know how I feel when you’re being awesome.”
“Make no mistake, beautiful, I pretty much am fighting wood anytime I look at you,” pause, then, “or think of you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t exaggerate.”
He moved my hand.
Oh my.
He moved it again, to my thigh.
“Let’s get there safe so I don’t have to explain a hard-on to paramedics,” he suggested.
At that, I busted out laughing.
I also felt tons better.
And such was Rix’s magic, I continued to feel this way after we hit Flagstaff proper, then eventually entered an older, established neighborhood that sat among a ton of trees, the lots very large, most of the landscaping entirely natural, so it was really beautiful.
Rix pulled into a long, windy, paved drive at the end of which had a lovely large home built of wood and stone, with green trim and a matching garage door.
I was good through that too.
Through him parking alongside a big, white Range Rover.
Through me jumping out after he did.
It all fell apart when the front door opened and people piled out.
The rundown:
Rix’s mom?
Ex-Sports Illustrated supermodel.
Rix’s dad?
Rix, thirty-some years ago.
Rix’s brother?
Rix, except with some of his mom’s more refined features, not his dad’s fully rugged ones.
Rix’s sister-in-law?
Totally cover material.
Seeing Hailey’s easy-breezy chic in dark jeans, a cream, double-pocket shirt, a fantastic belt and high-heeled booties, I mentally scanned my outfit.
Nice jeans with purposeful fading. Ivory shell with lace trim. Long, pink cardigan. Rosy-taupe, suede, low-heeled booties with a smart leather tote in almost the same shade. Drop necklace ending in a marbly, polished, pink-and-brown stone and a gold tassel. And it was the plain truth, I had on kickass shades.
I still didn’t stand a chance.
This vanished from my mind as I was suddenly colliding with Rix’s side, my shoulder slamming into him and remaining wedged there as he clamped on to me.
What on…?
I didn’t ask.
His entire family was heading our way, and each and every one of them had a reaction to Rix claiming me almost violently.
Head jerks. Stutter steps. Widened eyes.
Rix moved us forward in our nearly fused-together state, and we all met in the middle.
His dad got there first.
“Son,” he greeted hesitantly.
“Dad. Mom. Josh. Hails,” Rix grunted.
I looked up at him, now shocked by his ominous tone.
His arm tightened, and I feared he might dislocate my shoulder.
He also kept talking.
“This is Alexandra. She’s shy. She doesn’t talk much. She can get uncomfortable around people she doesn’t know, until she’s comfortable around them. So be cool with her.”
The last was voiced almost like a threat.
“You want to, I don’t know, give them hugs or something first, honey?” I suggested. “That is, before you go into detail about the consequences of your family not being nice to me when you just told me in the truck how nice your family will be because they’re nice.”
He looked down at me. “I just don’t want you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not sure this was the way to go,” I remarked.
“We lay it out in my family,” he explained.
“I’m getting that,” I replied.
“You were worried in the truck,” he reminded me.
“I don’t know, but I might be more worried now,” I returned.
He scowled at me.
I rolled my eyes and turned to his family, sticking up my hand at random to whoever wanted to take it, and stated, “Hi, I’m Alex, and it probably comes as no surprise your son-slash-brother is overprotective. I’d appreciate it if you could just ignore his intro and stick with mine.”
No one said a word.
No one moved.
Then Hailey snorted.
Which caused Mr. Hendrix to guffaw.
That led to Josh chuckling.
And Mrs. Hendrix moved forward, taking my hand.
“Alex, so nice to meet you,” she said, not gushy or anything, just real.
“You too. Rix has talked a lot about you,” I told her.
“Lord help me, I don’t want to know what he said,” she replied.
“It’s all good,” I promised.
“You can let her go, son, we won’t release the hounds,” his dad promised.
Reluctantly, Rix let me go.
He gave and received hugs (and through this, I got to watch a heartwarming Hendrix Show when his dad’s hug went on a long time, his hug with his brother ended in a long, loving moment of eye contact, and Rix not only kissed the side of his mom’s head, he did the same with Hailey).
I got introductions (his dad, whose first name was Garrison, told me to call him Gare, his mom, with whom I shared a name, though mine was my middle one, told me to call her Mags).
Then Josh asked his brother, “Do you want to go in first? Do a walkthrough? Make sure we haven’t laid any traps?”
“Fuck off,” Rix muttered, claiming me again, but a lot less aggressively.
“Language,” Mags snapped.
“Where’s Kins?” Rix ignored his mom to ask Josh as we moved to the house.
“Napping.”
Rix then turned his attention to his mother and promptly communicated he wasn’t over it.
“You couldn’t have had just the two of you to start? You had to call Joshua and Hails here?”
“Rix!” I chided.
“What?” he asked me as we shuffled into his family’s home, still attached. “It’s a valid question. Your friends didn’t trial-by-fire me. My family doesn’t need to pull that shit with you.”
“John Hendrix,” his mother clipped. “Language.”
“Mom, I’m thirty-four years old, give it up,” Rix returned.
“Ohmigod,” I breathed as it dawned on me. “You’re the baby boy who gets away with everything.”
Rix was unfazed by this. “Well, yeah.”
“And…yeah,” Josh confirmed. “And I have a million and five stories to illustrate that.”
“Like you were the perfect son,” Rix scoffed.
“I had to put the effort into not getting caught,” Josh returned. “You didn’t give a shit you got caught because you knew you could get away with anything.”
We were all heading toward the kitchen, but Mags had already made it there, and she was addressing the ceiling.
“Lord God, you have my devotion. You’ve given me great bounty. I’m grateful, so I don’t ask much. But can you please send a message down to my sons that they are to respect their mother in her own home by cleaning up their mouths? I’ll accept a lightning bolt.”
Hailey laughed softly.
I caught her eyes as I did the same.
“Sweetheart, they’re boys,” for some reason Gare pointed out the obvious.
“And this is why they don’t respect their mother,” Mags shot back. “You and that tired excuse of ‘they’re boys.’” She turned to me and Hailey, who was standing beside me. “Foul mouths? It is what it is. They’re boys. Totaled car? No big deal. They’re boys. Eight hundred dollars for hockey skates, times two? We must. They’re boys. Girl’s panties in my laundry that were not mine? It comes with the territory. They’re boys.”