I look past her again. Her team appears to comprise senior women, a few people with a bunch of tattoos, and a kid who looks to be about thirteen. I cock an eyebrow at Lana. “Kind of a ragtag crew you have, don’t you think?”
She snorts a laugh. “Yes, well. The store is already closed for the holiday and my normal delivery guys are taking some much-deserved time off, so I called in reinforcements.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” a small elderly woman in a bright pink tracksuit yells from the back of the pack. “We’re missing the holiday pudding-wrestling extravaganza at Peaceful Pines for this.”
One man turns to look at her. “Gran, I told you that you didn’t have to come. The guys and I could have taken care of this.”
She scoffs. “You guys look like a bunch of criminals,” she says, turning to address the most heavily tattooed man in the group. “We know nothing about this guy. He could be one of those stuck-up rich boys who thinks anyone with tattoos is a weirdo. And you and Becca havea lotof tattoos. And you certainly look weird. No offense.”
He snickers and wraps an arm around the heavily tattooed woman next to him. “That’s alright, Gran. We’re used to the ridiculous shit that comes out of your mouth.”
Another man, the most normal looking of the group despite his fiery red hair, reaches over and smacks the tattooed guy in the head. “Johnny,” he snaps. “Braden’s here.” He jerks a thumb toward the teenager. “His mom is going to be so pissed at me if he comes home swearing a blue streak after this. I told her I was taking him to do a good deed for Christmas.” He steps to the front and sticks his hand out. “I’m Travis.” He points at each person and says their name. “The kid is my stepson, Braden. That’s Connor, his wife Alex, Becca, and Johnny, Aiden, Rhea, Ryder, Gran, Gladys, and Cathy. And you already met Lana.”
The woman he called Gladys sidles up to me in her neon green tracksuit.—what is with these older women and tracksuits, anyway? Even Lana is wearing one, only hers is a shiny purple—and looks me up and down, blatantly resting her gaze at the front of my pants.
“Well?” she asks, raising a sparse white eyebrow. “Are you married? Or can I get tickets to this ride?”
I choke on a laugh. Over her head, I can see the man Travis introduced as Ryder trying to mouth something at me, but the woman he called Gran slaps him on the arm before I can decipher what he wants me to say. I decide to answer honestly, because that’s always the best policy, right?
“Um, no. I’m not married.”
Gladys cracks a grin. “Perfect. All these idiots”—she gestures to the men—“got married before they showed me their dicks. You look like you might have something in there to make an old woman happy. What say you take me into that fancy penthouse and show me your ham candle, hot stuff?”
Travis pulls her back and puts a hand over her mouth. “Gladys,” he hisses. “For the love of god, will you please shut up? Fin won’t be too happy to hear you’ve moved on to propositioning strangers because all the men you know are married. Especially since you’re doing it in front of your great-grandson.”
She elbows him in the stomach and wrenches free. “Pssh. Braden’s almost a man. I’m sure he’s heard worse at school. Besides, what’s wrong with ham candle? It’s not like I’m swearing.” Travis shakes his head while he massages his temples. “What? What do you expect me to do? Be happy with looking at the wrinkly pink pantserpillars the old coots at Peaceful Pines are carrying around? Gross. I’ll pass, thanks.” She turns back to me and flutters her eyelashes. “So what do you say, handsome? Grant an old lady her dying wish?”
I can’t get any words out as I look around at the faces of the strangers gathered around me. I’m going to have to have a talk with MaeLynn about the kinds of people she hangs around with, if this woman is any sign. Although…Gladys seems to be enjoying herself. I guess there’s nothing wrong with a little harmless fun. Besides, I run a sex toy factory. I’m pretty sure I can handle a little friendly sexual harassment from a feisty senior citizen. Lord knows I’ve experienced far worse when dealing with getting our products into new retailers.
I shake my head and smile at the group. “Why don’t you all come in and I’ll get to work on these boxes? Grab a drink and relax. I’m sure it won’t take long for me to move this stuff in here.”
“I don’t think so,” Braden, the kid, says. “We told my mom we were coming to deliver a bunch of baby stuff to some guy’s apartment.” He looks around the lobby with a smirk. “And if this is your apartment, I’d say you have bigger problems than not having any baby stuff.” He steps back and grabs a box. “Now, where do you want this stuff?”
The rest of the group follows his lead, and after a few trips back to the lobby for more items, I soon have a mountain of boxes piled next to a bunch of new furniture in my living room. And that’s not even taking into consideration all the shopping bags piled on my couch.
“Here,” the woman named Alex says, passing me a slip of paper. “Connor and I host a family dinner for all our friends every Sunday when we’re in town. You and your baby, and his mom, should come by some time.”
I fold the paper and slip it into my pocket. These perfect strangers are giving me an open invitation for family dinner, and I didn’t even get an invitation from my own parents for the holidays.
“That’s nice of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”
A man steps up beside Alex and puts an arm around her. “Not an imposition, man. Alex loves to cook for a crowd, and she does it as often as she can. I have to warn you, though. That shit with Gladys? Yeah, that will probably happen again, several times over. We try to keep her under control, but nothing’s worked yet.”
“And nothing ever will!” Gladys yells from where she’s rummaging through my fridge. “I’m too much woman. Silly men like you can only dream of suppressing my big vagina energy. That’s right. I’ve got that B. V. E. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” She and the other women dressed in tracksuits make a squeezing motion in front of their breasts while nodding somberly. I don’t even want to know what that’s about.
A laugh breaks out, and a few people throw in head shakes.
“That sounds like something you should see a gynecologist for, Gladys. I wouldn’t go saying that out loud just anywhere if you can help it,” Alex calls back with a laugh. “You probably won’t like the looks you get after.”
“Well, well, well. Looks like you started the party without us. What’s going on here?”
Eric, Mason, Lucas, and Damien walk into the apartment and take in my other guests.
“You said two hours, right? Looks like you needed us sooner.” Eric says, looking at the diverse group of strangers gathered in my apartment. “Hey, Archer? Is there a reason all the guys from Sleeping Dogs are here in your apartment?”
Chapter 18
Doting Grandmothers With Donuts
