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"Regardless, I have a much better use for you. I need you on publicity and community relations. I was trying to figure out how to juggle the radio and TV spots we've booked, because poor Madison got a cold and sounds like a frog right now. I can give you the basics and let you run with it. You're as good as Steve Martin in Leap of Faith, getting everybody out to the tent revival."
"I take it he wasn't available?"
"All booked." She beamed and then impulsively flung herself back into their arms, holding on tight. "I love you guys. I can't wait for you to meet Des, though I'm scared to death about it. I want you all to like each other so much, I probably need to let you three get together on your own so I don't turn it into a disaster by trying to control all of it."
"Have you ever known Marcus to let anyone else take control?" Thomas pointed out.
"I think you know the answer to that," Marcus rebounded, tossing him a look. Julie raised a brow as Thomas flushed this time.
"Do tell?"
"Nope, that one stays between him and me," Marcus informed her firmly. "The hint was just to torture you."
"You love your small torments of us lesser mortals."
"Exactly." Marcus pinched her ass and she punched his solid stomach. "How about you show us what we can do for you right now? It'll take your mind off what we'll do to Des if he's not good enough for you."
She smirked, but as she led them backstage, she couldn't help adding, "He's good enough for me. Really. He's...we fit."
She stopped and faced them. "Honestly, I think I want you guys to like him so much because I do. I'm a big girl and
I know even if you don't hit it off, that doesn't matter as much as what he and I feel for one another. But I love you guys and...I love him." She shook her head. "I adore my idiot family, you know I do, but the two of you are the ones I want to approve of him, dumb as that sounds. I've had appalling taste in guys, but he's different. God, I know that sounds lame and meaningless."
Thomas and Marcus exchanged a look full of multiple meanings, then Thomas reached out and clasped her hand, Marcus taking the other. "You don't have appalling taste in men," Marcus informed her with a direct look. "You just have a very good heart. If this guy is good for you--and he seems to be--I think it will be easy for us to get along. Anyone who truly loves and cares about you will get our vote."
"That doesn't mean we won't bust his balls," Thomas added with a worrisome twinkle in his eyes. "That's required. We have to at least throw him in the trunk and make him think we're going to stake him out in the woods for possums and fire ants to eat his eyeballs."
"You can take the boy out of redneck country, but you can't take the redneck out of the boy," Marcus said fondly.
"Does the Maserati even have a trunk?" Julie demanded. "One bigger than a toddler?"
"Oh, he finally let the Spyder go. Mercedes CLA Class. Much more leg room. And a decent trunk."
Julie widened her eyes and put her hand on Thomas's arm as she did a mock stagger. "He got rid of the Spyder? I never thought I'd see the day."
"Well, he is over forty now," Thomas affected a stage whisper behind one hand. "He's starting to grow out of that sports car thing."
Julie laughed as Marcus went after Thomas, probably intending to take him to the floor and pummel him. Thomas ducked behind her, holding her by the shoulders to use her as a human shield, while Marcus resorted to tickling to get her out of the way.
She shrieked and squirmed away, but threw her arms out in front of Thomas to protect him. "Be nice," she told Marcus. "You need him to take care of you in your old age."
"Oh, you are both so dead."
She'd arranged for Des to first meet Marcus and Thomas at a Chili's for dinner. She figured the casual atmosphere, good food and busy bar would be a good combination for the three men.
Des had texted her that he'd meet them at the restaurant. She, Marcus and Thomas had time for a round of beers and a half hour of catching up before he arrived.
When he came in, her heart did its usual little tilt, the way it did each time they were apart and she saw him again. Evidence like that supported her resolve that this time things would be different. Even the few times she'd imagined herself in love, she hadn't experienced the light-as-air reaction to a man as often as she did with Des.
Giving Marcus and Thomas a smile, she slipped away from the booth to retrieve him, since the restaurant was crowded and he might not locate them. It also gave her the excuse to put her hands on his shoulders, lift onto her toes and kiss him without any self-consciousness.
He'd showered, and smelled clean and damp. Over his dark blue jeans he wore a Doctor Who T-shirt. It showed the Tardis as if it was the center point of Van Gogh's Starry Night.
Gathering her close, he pressed his face into her hair. "You smell so pretty," he said. "Just as pretty as you look. I missed you today."
He said that almost every time they'd been apart, but it wasn't rote. He seemed to mean it every time. They really were kind of gone over one another. As much as she wanted to rein it in, chide herself not to be silly, or to risk too much, whenever she saw him at the end of the day there was no choice but to react honestly, because he did the same.
She drew back. "You look pretty special yourself. Love the T-shirt. I may have to steal that one."
