“I trust the process about as much as I trust Thore at an open mic night,” I muttered, grabbing a cup of coffee.
The crew chuckled. Though Thore didn’t bother defending himself—probably because the last time he’d tried stand-up comedy, we’d been banned from three bars on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras.
Still, there was no denying Donut’s enthusiasm had a way of rubbing off. Even Worm, who’d spent most of yesterday sulking, was peeking over Donut’s shoulder.
As the hours ticked by, Donut’s “masterpiece” began taking shape. It involved fairy lights, a highly suspicious amount of glitter, and a series of pre-recorded messages that, frankly, had me wincing. At one point, I leaned over his shoulder and whispered, “Are you sure this won’ end with me being skinned alive?”
Donut smirked, shoving a small disco ball into my hands. “Gator, my man, you gotta have faith. Trust me—Devlyn’s gonna love it.”
Faith, I thought grimly, was in short supply. But then again, Devlyn had always thrived on spectacle, and if anyone could deliver, it was Donut.
By the time the sun set, the contraption was complete, and we stood back to admire Donut’s work.
It was... something, alright.
Glimmering, gaudy, and definitely a fire hazard.
But who knew—maybe it’d do the trick.
“Alright, boys,” I said, clapping my hands. “Let’s see if this circus act can keep my woman from torching us all.”
“Hold up,” Juju piped up. “Where’s the food?”
“Food?” Donut asked, confused.
“You didn’t get food?!” Worm shouted incredulously.
“Seriously, Donut,” Braveheart moaned. “The woman’s been eating twenty-four seven since she got here. You don’t give her food and shewillincinerate all of us.”
“Braveheart’s got a point,” Thore said, looking around the bar. “We gotta get some food in here, fast.”
“Alright,” I groaned, rubbing the back of my neck. “This is fucking NOLA for crying out loud. Our town is known for its food. Everyone head out and buy as much as you can and meetback here in an hour. In the meantime,” I gulped and maybe whimpered a bit as I looked toward the stairs. “I’ll go keep her busy.”
My brothers snickered as they saw my dejected face.
I slowly made my way upstairs, nerves jangling in time with the chaotic noise of the bar. Opening my bedroom door, she sat there, lounging on an old leather chaise that had more duct tape than upholstery, her fingers flipping through a book she was reading. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine—a dangerous mix of amusement and irritation sparkling in their depths.
“I’m hungry,” she drawled, her voice dripping with faux patience.
I swallowed hard and plastered on a grin, trying to ignore the way my palms were already sweating. “Well,Chèr, I’ve got the boys hunting down the finest New Orleans has to offer. You’ll be fed like a queen in no time.”
Her eyebrow arched, unimpressed. “And in the meantime?”
My eyes darted to my bed, and for the first time since I was ten, I wanted to run to mymômanand hide.
Gulping, I muttered, “How about a little entertainment?”
She leaned back, her lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. “You don’t sound too happy about that,” she accused, but she rose to her feet anyway, moving toward me with a predatory grace that made my stomach twist.
“You know me. I’m always down for a little fun.”
Her smirk deepened, revealing just enough teeth to send a shiver dancing down my spine. “Let’s hope your idea of fun doesn’t disappoint, Gator.”
An hour and three nut dumps later, I stumbled slowly down the stairs, praying my dick didn’t fall off.
“Wade, can we go get that sandwich? You know, the one I like so much,” Devlyn jabbered on as I rolled my eyes.
Woman had a two-track mind.
