I feel like a cow being led to slaughter.
I don’t know who Emery is, so I don’t look any of them in the eye. At all. Not a hard feat, really, when I feel like I’m seconds away from turning into an embarrassed puddle of hickey goo on the perfectly stained porch. No Zane needed.
Ian moves around us and swings open the door, gesturing us inside. I already hear old country music playing and a woman’s voice singing along.
We find her a minute later, short and plump with a mess of blond waves piled on her head, a rolled red bandanna tied like a headband in front. She blows her bangs out of her face and smiles when she sees us.
“And who might this be?” she asks, a southern twang in her voice.
“Yeah, Bowen, who might this be?” The guy sitting at the island looks up from his phone and grins, narrowing his eyes. Not a glare like Clint, but an assessing look.
I’m already obsessed with a man, not blind to others, okay? The guy is hot. Like, real, real hot. Not a linebacker Bennet, still big but in a sleek way. Toned, bronzed with darker hair and a sharp jaw.
Boe snorts. “Kit, this is Jo.” He walks over to her and kisses her cheek. Jo smiles up at him, pinching his in return before she turns her eyes back to me.
“Ah, the infamous Kit. Or should I call youkitten?” Hottie all but purrs. I’ve never felt as much like a kitten as I do right now. A scared little kitten up against a smirking panther.
But also…Boe told them my nickname?
I file that bit of info away for later, glancing at Boe in time to see him pick a roll up out of a basket on the island and chuck it at the guy’s head. Panther snatches it out of the air and takes a bite out of it like it’s an apple. Totally unfazed.
Jo rolls her eyes and swats Bowen’s shoulder. “At least let the food make it to the table, Bowen Lee.”
She government names him?Who are these people?
“Now go and get, I expect you all at the table.” Hottie goes to get up from the island, but Jo pulls a wooden spoon out of her back pocket and points it at him. “Not you, Zane Lee. Sit.”
Another Lee?
The table in question looks like it should fit fifteen people. The center is already full of plates, platters and bowls of food. Ian is just sitting down when we walk in from the kitchen, and Clint and the other of Ian’s brothers follow from the other doorway on the other side of the room. Bowen leads me to a chair, pulling it out casually before sitting in the one next to me.
“What the fuck was that, Bowen?” Pink romper says, holding matching pink nails to his chest. “Did you just…gentleman?”
“Language,” Jo callsfrom the kitchen.
“Bowen is a perfect gentleman,” Ian says, perusing the food on the table and rubbing his hands together.
“How long do you think it’ll take Jo to bring up the massive hickey?” Romper says. “You do realize it’s just called an Adam’s apple, right, Briggs? Not an actual apple? You can’t suck it out of his throat. Looks like you gave a valiant effort, though.”
I cringe, flicking Bowen’s thigh under the table.
“So, you must be Emery?” I question, hesitantly. I already know he’s not Zane, but he still feels like a guy who would come with a warning.
Emery smirks, a little humor and a lot wicked. “Has Bowie been talking about me?”
“Just telling him to avoid you like the plague and never, under any circumstances, give you his number.”
The biggest brother reaches forward and snags a piece of lettuce out of the bowl in front of him before Clint can smack his hand away. Clint may have been able to move with more swift accuracy if he wasn’tstill glaring.
If eyes could actually shoot lasers, I’d be a walking slice of Swiss.
“That’s insinuating I don’t already have it.”
Bowen narrows his eyes, pulls his phone out of his pocket and types something. Three beeps go off at the table. Ian, Emery and the big dude all pull out their own phones. All four of them are typing in what I’m starting to gather must be a group chat.
Emery gasps loudly, then says out loud, slamming his phone on the table. “Oh my God, Briggs. Youlovehim. Disgusting. This is wonderful.”
“Emery, chill,” Ian says, still eying the roasted chicken in front of him like a dog.
