“Looks like you’re dreading it,” Grey states.
“My parents fight like you wouldn’t believe. And then they’re at it like fuckin’ farm animals. Grates on me.” He shudders. “Seein’ other couples over the years all over one another while acting all jealous and shit. You, even, Mase. You looked at me like you wanted to rip my nuts off for talking to your woman. I don’t like that shit. And it ain’t gonna be me.”
Greyson pipes up. “Bet you twenty bucks, Quinn, that before long we’ll be laughing because of that saying… famous last words.”
“You first at least,” Jase mutters.
I sip my beer, swallow, then shake my head in the negative. “Not a losin’ man, brother.” I look back to Jase. “So I’ll pass on that wager, but you’ll see, Creed. Lookin’ forward to watching, too.”
Jase rolls his eyes. “What’s goin’ on? Vibes comin’ off you two comin’ in were more than about Mase’s woman. You were both amped as fuck.”
“It’s about Rye. I’ll get Linc over here, so we don’t have to tell it twice tonight,” I say, looking across the room toward Linc, who’s chatting up a female half-shifter pack member, Audrey, over by the pool table.
Amelia is coming my way. And her eyes are on me. Glassy, but igniting with arousal.
“Actually,” I pivot, “Would you fill ‘em both in instead, Grey? I need to get Amelia home.” To bed.
“The way she’s lookin’ at you, bro, I don’t blame you a bit,” Grey mumbles, good-naturedly.
“I’d say I need a few days with no interruptions, but interrupt if you need to. And I’ll meet you guys at the four corners at dawn for a run and a talk anyway. Ty’s coming,” I say for Jase’s benefit. “I’m there anyway I can be for Rye. Can you call Joel, Grey?”
“Of course.”
As Grey shakes my hand and slaps my back with affection, the door opens and pack member Sean struts in with two boxes of cigars and a mile-wide grin, announcing, “It’s a boy!”
Cheers break out through the place, including from Amelia.
“And you’re here?” Roxy calls out from behind the bar. “Why are you here?”
“It’s been six hours. They’re sleepin’ and her sisters and our moms are over. I just wanted a bevvie.”
Roxy rolls her eyes. “I’d give you shit, but it’s wolves like you that keep me in sexy boots and overpriced coffees.”
“Bevvies for everyone, on me!” Sean loudly announces and another round of agreeable reactions fill the air. My mother hurries over and throws her arms around Sean to hug him.
“Your mom is the bee’s knees, by the way,” Amelia informs, smiling in my mother’s direction.
“Yeah?” I slip my arm around her waist and hook a foot around a leg of her chair so I can shift her closer to me. I drop a kiss on her lips.
“Good babysitter choice, Doggo. And I really like your pops, too. He’s a silver fox. Or… silver wolf. I told him a lil’ while ago he was a silver fox and he corrected me. Foxes would love to be referred to as wolves but the vice versa is apparently untrue.” She wraps her lips around her straw and takes a big sip.
“What ‘cha drinkin’?” I ask, taking a whiff. “Tequila?”
“It’s a Tequila sunrise. Not nearly as good as Skye’s moonshine punch. But Roxy over there makes a fine drink.”
“That she does,” I agree.
“The moonshine is probably to blame for the shenanigans tonight,” my father puts in, sitting down at the table with us. “Staying for another drink, Mase?”
Not a shock. That moonshine has a reputation around these parts. Especially when mixed with fruit juice. Every new batch made, my mother shares it like it’s nectar of the gods and the pack’s women drink it like it’s about to go out of style. When she shares it, there’s always fun amongst the pack’s women, and that translates to fun for their mates, too.
“Actually, was gonna head out. How’d you all end up here anyway?”
“Your mother and the girls wanted to dance.” Dad shrugs.
“My idea!” Amelia snaps up that credit like she did a good thing today and is ready for her medal.
“And did they?” I ask, “Dance?”
“Oh yeah,” Dad nods. “Been at it all evening.”
Amelia pops up to standing and breaks out into a tap dance that ends with a pointing gesture directed at my dad who smiles wide.
“He teased earlier about us all having no rhythm and said we should take lessons.” She rolls her eyes. “Reverse psychology? Nice try. I then demonstrated some jazz, tap-”
“And ballerina stuff,” Dad adds.
Amelia nods. “Went to dance constantly for years. Hated nearly every minute of it but I’ll never forget those steps. Madame Chapette would skin me alive if I did. Ivy stuck it out until she was an adult? Me? The minute I got my first training bra I was out of there.” She jerks her thumb to the side for emphasis.