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She could make a mean stir fry, but when she made chili, it burned the roof of your fucking mouth off.
She threw away all my cleaning products, insisting there was absolutely no reason to use bleach, ever.
She talked to Peyton and Jamie whenever they called, even if it was three a.m. and they woke both of us up.
There was absolutely no reasoning with her about watching the news, so we improvised in the mornings and watched reruns of house renovation shows. Which, in a way, worked in our favor as she got a lot of ideas about what she wanted to do to the farmhouse.
For any little habit that took some getting used to, there were a dozen that made it not seem like a big deal.
There was nothing perfect about relationships, every couple had things to sort out, growing pains as they adjusted to a life as a duo instead of a single person.
There was no such thing as perfect.
But damn if we weren't as close as two people could get.
I was sitting at the front desk, sorting through some papers when I heard the front door open.
We didn't arm the system during work hours most days since it wasn't exactly a great way to secure new clientele by locking them out.
And you could pretty much count on any one of my siblings - or the Mallicks - randomly dropping by if they were in town. Especially now that Savea and I were officially a thing. They checked in on her without getting grumbles from her about them treating her like an 'invalid.' And they none-too-subtly prodded about us moving in together, everyone wanting to beat Helen at least once.
I didn't immediately look up.
Until I heard an odd click. Not quite high heels, but not sneakers or boots either - which one would expect my brothers or the Mallicks to be wearing.
My head lifted, brows knitted, finding a man in a suit walking toward me.
No.
It was doing it a disservice to call it a suit which brought to mind department stores where average men bought things off the rack that fit well enough.
No.
This was couture. I didn't even know any suit name brands, but I knew this was one of them. And it wasn't off a rack, discounted. It was perfectly tailored to fit the man wearing it like a second skin, like he was born in the smooth gray fabric with a sage green shirt, golden cufflinks.
The man himself was darker skinned, Middle Eastern, but with light green eyes, a short beard that could barely be called more than a shadow, but had the sharpest shape-up anyone had ever seen. His inky black hair was cut in a short fade but longer on top, long enough that if he leaned forward, strands would probably fall into his eyes.
Harry had grumbled about him hiring beautiful people, only good looking men and women.
There was no logical reason for me to assume it was the man himself walking into my office.
But there was no mistaking it.
This was Eamon Awan.
The possible gutter kid, possible oil money, possible model turned underground casino kingpin.
He said nothing, those startling eyes on me as he approached, reaching into his pocket, drawing something out so small that I couldn't even see it.
I didn't see it until he stopped walking, and flicked it into the air, turning and leaving without even seeing if I caught it or not.
I did, even as the door spoke of his departure.
I opened my hand, finding a golden, black edged chip with an address printed on it.
"That was the slickest shit I've ever seen," Nixon said, shaking his head.
It was hard to impress Nixon, but I had to agree.
Eamon Awan certainly knew how to grab your attention.
So I guess we were invited to the casino."I mean, we're not going to go," I told Savea as she eyed the chip in my hand, face oddly blank.
"Um... of course we are going," she shot back, face twisted up like I was insane.
"What?" I asked, not expecting that, figuring the whole idea of it would be a sore spot, given that the man who ran it had hired the men who had hurt her.
"Okay, first of all," she said, absentmindedly stroking Petunia's head. "Think of the never-ending crap I would get from Peyton if I had this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do something like this and turned it down."
She wasn't wrong about that. Peyton was forever looking for new, crazy, interesting things to do, swearing out that she was going to be the most interesting old lady on the planet, who all the kids sat around while she regaled them with the stories of her youthful debauchery.
"And second of all?" I asked.
"It's an underground casino! I've never been to a casino, but I figure if you are going to go, an exclusive, underground way is the perfect way to pop your cherry, right?"
