“I wasjustthinkin’ the same damn thing, darlin’,” Mac adds.
Eleanor’s blue eyes widen. “Hey wait, didn’t you used to work at the Rouge Elephant—”
“Oh! You were the girl at the flower shop—”
Mac and Eleanor cut each other off, exchanging a look and then a laugh when they realize they both remember me from different places.
“I’ve had a lot of jobs,” I explain wryly. Working at the flower shop was to help someone Abuela knows through church, but the seating hostess gig at the Rouge Elephant was because I needed some credit card information on a few of their high rollers for a job.
“You’re the green-haired seating hostess who tried to steal my man,” Eleanor says, still smiling widely. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nicole stiffen.
I swallow. Fuck. Now I kinda remember her, too. I’m a bit thrown off by her persistently friendly face, which seems so at odds with her fighting words. She doesn’tseemmad, but I turn to the side and tuck myself against Wesley a little harder, hoping to show her exactly where my loyalties lie. Wesley lifts a hand and gently rubs my upper arm in a move so possessive and supportive it makes my uterus do a little flip.
“Doesn’t look like he can be stolen,” I note, hoping I didn’t step too hard on anyone’s toes.
She laughs, and I feel the steel in my spine melt. “Nope!” she agrees brightly, going over to him. He holds his arm up, and she slots into the space he creates seamlessly, like they’ve done it thousands of times.
Now we’re all coupled up, standing in a strange triangle. I shoot a little smile at Wesley, who’s been a comforting presence but stood back and let me handle things. He’s been so quick to step in up until now—I wonder if it was my little lecture in the car, or if he just doesn’t think I need protection here.
Either way, I get the sense this introduction was important to him, so I hope I passed the test.
I blow out a long breath. “Is there somewhere we can put SB?” I ask, lifting the carrier in my hand.
Eleanor gasps jealously. “You have a cat!” She turns to Mac, lower lip dropping into a pout. “Now everyone has a pet but us.”
His gaze turns appraising. “You know I’ll get you whatever you want, darlin’. As long as you don’t want a parrot.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want… wait, you have a problem with parrots specifically?” she wonders. “Why?”
“Because it’s fucking creepy that they can talk, and frankly, more people should be concerned about that. I don’t trust ‘em.”
“Any bird that can talk is definitely spying on you and sending your secrets to the government,” I agree seriously.
“Thank you,” Mac says, gesturing to me like I’m the only sane one for believing him.
“Ravens can talk, too.”
Mac’s smile of teasing amusement falls instantly. “What?” he croaks.
“I’ll show you a video later that will blow your mind,” I offer, eyeing Eleanor just to be sure I’m not encroaching. Again. “Both of you,” I amend, just in case.I promise I don’t want your man.
She’s pressing her lips together to suppress a smile. “Let’s go into the kitchen. Are you hungry, Madison?”
“Madison, you’re bleeding,” Wesley says before I can answer, gently taking my forearm and examining the back of my elbow. The stinging sensation when my skin pulls against the handling probably means I’ve got a strawberry from my fall.
Nicole straightens. “What happened?” she asks in a low voice. And if her no-nonsense medical professional tone wasn’t enough to convince me, the way she instantly crosses the room in concern when she’s been so standoffish would.
That means she’s probably the nurse Tío kidnapped. Great.
“Just hit the ground a little hard,” I explain, lifting my forearm and feeling like a kid at the doctor when the Amazonian Queen gets close enough to examine the scratch.
“Go with Nicole,” Wesley urges. He holds out his hand to take the cat carrier from me. “I’m going to put him in my office.”
My eyes cut to the dog, still sitting like a good boy at Dimitri’s feet. “He wasn’t exactly a fan of Small Dog,” I say quietly.
“No dogs allowed in the office,” he assures me with a wink.
Still holding my forearm with her gentle, cool touch, Nicole turns to shoot Dimitri a look over her shoulder, to which he ducks his head. “Small Dog,” she rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch in playful exasperation as she turns to me. “They named him George at the shelter. I just don’t want to confuse him.”
