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When Shay decides that climbing on the roof of the Gator is a good idea, despite the loud protests of both of her brothers, I take a shot while lying on the ground so it will have the added effect of a cool perspective. Even through the lens, I can tell that Shayanne looks powerful, invincible, ready to take the world by storm, which fits what Bobby has told me about her. The second shot I take of that moment includes both guys standing at the ready to catch her and watching her closely. The affection is obvious and shines brightly.
“Oh, my phone,” Shay says, jumping from the roof of the Gator as if the five feet are no big deal. Pulling it out of her pocket, she grins that evil smile again before looking at Bobby. “Mama Louise says it’s time for us all to wash up for dinner.”
“Oh, I’ll go then,” I offer, not wanting to intrude any more than I already have. I’m sure Bobby and Brutal had chores to do today, but they’ve spent the last hour goofing off with me. It’s been fun and I’ve gotten some amazing pictures, but I know their family dinners are pretty sacrosanct.
Bobby stops me with a growl and his arms around my waist. “The fuck? She said ‘us all’. That means Mama Louise is expecting you at dinner too. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now that I have you here, I might never let you go.” He sounds serious, and rather than being scared at becoming his pseudo-hostage, my whole body lights up like fireworks again. He wants me here as much as I want to be here. While I’m playing through mental images of never leaving his side, he keeps talking, trying to sell me on the idea of staying. “The last person you want to disappoint is Mama Louise. You also don’t refuse her food. She’s the best.”
“I thought Ilene was the best,” I tease.
“So does she,” Bobby says sadly, shaking his head like Ilene is delusional and everyone just goes along with it. I’ve had Ilene’s food, though, and it’s delicious. But if Mama Louise can top it, I’m in. Hell, I’m in if only to meet the woman he says rescued his family.
Chapter 12
Bobby
I shove Shayanne toward Brutal’s Gator, grabbing at the keys as she tries to hold them behind her back.
“I can drive Willow up to the house!” she argues. She knows it’s a losing battle, but that doesn’t stop her. It never does.
“Shayanne. Give me the keys,” I sternly order. Once upon a time, that’d be enough to get her to do it, but now, she’s all independent and wild, thinking she can do any old thing she wants, like invite Willow out for the day without telling me.
Shit, that could’ve gone so badly if Willow had freaked the fuck out. But looking at her now, wind blowing her short hair around, eyes bright behind her glasses, and a sunny smile on her face, she seems perfectly at ease. Thank fuck.
Knowing what I have to do to get the keys, I grab Shayanne around her middle, picking her up so her booted feet kick the air. Spinning her around, I tell her loudly enough for Brutal and Willow to hear, because public humiliation is key to this apology. “Thank you for inviting Willow out to the farm. I appreciate it. Now, can I have the keys . . . please?”
Sitting her back down, she laughs, her mouth open wide and grinning. “See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” I hold my hand out, and she drops the key into my hand. “We’d best get to the house, no dilly-dallying. Mama and me made pot roast.”
I groan. Pot roast is delicious, Shay and Mama Louise’s even more so, but when they cook roast, it means they planned the day with ideas in mind, like ambushing me with Willow and spending the day fucking off with the goats. Shayanne is such a schemer. God, I love that girl.
At the house, we wash up on the back porch and I can feel the tension in Willow now. I throw my chin at Brutal and Shayanne, telling them to go in without us. With my hands on Willow’s shoulders, I turn her to face me, quietly asking, “Hey, you okay?”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, just a little nervous to meet the infamous Mama Louise. Unc talks about her too, you know? Basically makes her sound like a fictional warrior woman, battling for her family and the power of love. He talks about her pies too, says they’re better than Ilene’s but that I’d best take that to the grave if I know what’s good for my stomach.”
I laugh a little. Hank’s not that far off. “Actually, that’s pretty true. She’s a force, but in a good way. I think you’ll have that in common.”
