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“Owen and Jacob’s idea of an entertaining afternoon.”
He flicked backward to the picture of Owen mooning the cow, and she laughed. She laughed harder when he showed her the second picture of the angry bull chasing the band’s bassist.
“I don’
t think that bull appreciated Owen making a moooove on his woman,” Madison said.
Adam snorted and shook his head. So his woman told lame jokes, so what?
I think Owen is tired of insulting bovines. Jacob’s next text came through quickly. He always used a voice-to-text app, as if he couldn’t be bothered with typing. Join us. You can bring your girl. We won’t embarrass you.
There was a pause, and then Adam’s phone received a single word text.
Much.
Adam was sure they’d embarrass the hell out of him, but he wouldn’t mind it too bad. He missed the camaraderie of the band’s early days. Back before his troubles with addiction tried to destroy his friendships. He was grateful those bonds hadn’t been completely severed and was more than ready to strengthen them again.
“Do you like Cajun food?” Adam asked Madison.
“Sure do. The spicier the better.”
“Do you want to join Jacob and Owen for a late lunch? They say the restaurant isn’t far from here.”
“I guess so.”
At Adam’s request, Jacob sent him directions and by not far, Jacob meant twenty miles away on a completely different highway, so Adam had a bit more time to enjoy the feel of Madison at his back, the breeze against his neck, and the bike rumbling between his thighs. Life was good. He couldn’t stop grinning.
It turned out the Cajun restaurant was an old camper that had been converted into a portable kitchen. The picnic tables surrounding the little eatery were mostly full. Considering that there were only eight tables, the crowd wasn’t excessive. But the pile of crawdads in front of Jacob bordered on obscene.
“Are you going to share any of those?” Owen was asking as Adam directed Madison to the table with a protective hand on her lower back.
Jacob slapped Owen’s hand and, as his mouth was full, responded with a grunt of denial.
“No one comes between Jacob and his crawdads,” Adam said.
Jacob paused in his feasting long enough to nod at Madison and smile at Adam, but he wasn’t distracted enough to miss Owen’s attempt to sneak another crawdad from his plate.
“We’re supposed to share those,” Owen complained. “That’s why we got a double order.”
“Let’s go get some for ourselves,” Madison suggested.
“Order me another mess,” Jacob said as he snapped another crustacean’s shell to get at the presumably delicious meat inside.
“Get your own,” Owen said and climbed over the picnic table bench to get to his feet. He seemed to notice Madison for the first time. “Hey,” he said, “when did you become hot?”
“She was always hot,” Adam said, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her close at his side.
“No,” Owen said. “She was always cute. Now she’s hot.”
“Must be Louisiana’s sweltering heat,” Madison said, piling on the Southern accent and fanning herself dramatically.
“I do believe it’s the leather,” Owen said.
“It is rather stifling in this humidity, unless we’re riding. That’s a bit cooler. And fun. I love it. It’s a lot like riding horses, only faster and a bit more predictable.”
She tipped her face up at Adam to offer him a proud smile, and he couldn’t resist kissing her lips softly.
They followed Owen to the order window and talked about Owen’s adventure with disgruntled cattle while they waited for their food.
“Why were you bothering the cows in the first place?” Adam asked.
“They looked bored,” Owen said.
“Cows always look bored,” Madison said and laughed.
“They just need someone to show them how to party,” Owen insisted, drawing his basket—crawdads and Cajun fries, with sides of red beans and rice—across the counter toward him.
“And I’m sure you’re up for the task,” Adam said. He shook his head at his friend and collected his and Madison’s baskets. She carried their drinks and plastic forks.
“I’m a perpetual party, baby,” Owen said as he skirted the table and settled on the bench next to Jacob.
“Your perpetual party is in your pants,” Jacob said, eyeing the line at the counter. His pile of crawdads had dwindled to unacceptable levels, and not one of them was keen on sharing with him when he’d refused to do likewise. He’d even tried to stare Madison down, but she merely raised a brow, pulled her basket closer, and started eating.
“Better be careful with that kind of party,” Madison said with a chuckle, “or you’ll end up knocking up some groupie.”
Adam’s stomach dropped. Jacob produced a full body shudder. Owen turned an unsettling shade of green.
“Yeah,” Owen said quietly. “We wouldn’t want that to happen.”
Jacob shoved his few remaining crawdads to the center of the table. He’d apparently lost his appetite. Owen tackled his fries and carb-rich sides as if he hadn’t eaten in months. Adam picked over his food, wondering if he should warn Madison about the situation with Lindsey now or wait until the obviously pregnant woman was staring her in the face. More than likely the two women would meet before the concert. How awkward could it be? Girlfriend meet baby mama. Baby mama meet . . . Ugh. He didn’t even want to think of Lindsey that way. Adam was almost positive that her baby wasn’t his. And he hoped to God it wasn’t. He’d make a terrible father, and he knew it. The last thing he needed in his life was a baby. Thinking about babies made him queasy. Unlike Jacob . . . Jacob actually liked kids. Adam glanced at his friend, who was staring down at his clenched fists on the weathered table. He was a good father to Julie, but Adam hoped it wasn’t Jacob’s unborn child either. The guy had a hard enough time dealing with one crazy baby mama. He sure as hell didn’t need two. And Owen . . . Well, he seemed willing to take the fall, so he was more than welcome to. More power to him.
“What’s wrong?” Madison asked, looking from one man to the other.
She must have sensed how the atmosphere had completely changed after her offhanded remark about knocking up a groupie. She was good at picking up on that kind of thing, which was a trait that made her an excellent counselor. And because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, she’d lost her job. And because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, soon there might be a kid in the world cursed with half of its genetic material coming from Adam. Perhaps he should invest in a cock cage to keep his troublemaking dick locked safely in his pants.
“You haven’t told her?” Jacob asked.
“Told me what?” Madison slurped from her soda as if she’d been crawling through a desert for days.
“Nothing,” Adam said. “Do you want another drink?”
“You’d better tell her,” Jacob said. “It might be yours. No sense in making this worse than it already is.”
Frowning, Madison released her straw and looked from Adam to Jacob and back again.
“What might be yours?”
“It’s probably mine,” Owen said glumly. “Damn party in my pants was bound to get me into trouble sooner or later.”
Madison’s eyes shifted from Adam to Owen and then to Jacob. “Will someone please tell me what you guys are talking about?”
“Some knocked-up groupie showed up a couple of days ago,” Jacob said. “She’s like six months pregnant and claims one of us is the father of her baby.”
“Which one of you?”
Jacob shrugged. “Don’t know.”
Madison shook her head as if trying to rid it of the stupid words rattling around between her ears. “How can you not know? Whichever one of you had sex with her is the father.”
“Therein lies the problem,” Jacob said.
“We all had sex with her,” Adam said, rubbing a hand over his face.
Madison’s hand smashed into his chest. “You promised me,” she shouted.
No, he hadn’t. He hadn’t promised her he wouldn’t sleep around until recently. Six months ago wasn’t recently as far as he was concerned.
“I did not,” Adam said. “Don’t overreact.”
“Overreact? How can anything short of murdering you with my fork be an overreaction?” She shoved her white fork in his face and looked mad enough to gouge his eyes out with it. “How could you do this to me, Adam?”
“Shh,” Jacob said when all eyes turned their way. “This is not the place for an argument.”
Adam agreed, but apparently Madison had more to say. She did lower her voice to an angry whisper, but did not lower her plastic weapon.
