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“None of you are homesick?”

“Wow. A guy gets a wife, and suddenly we’re not important anymore,” Evie quipped.

“Oh, shit. You told her?” Tripp asked, lowering the paper.

“Later. Did you get what I needed?”

“Ya, I left it in the car.”

“Go get it.” I walked over to the fridge and grabbed the carton of OJ. “Has anyone seen Callum yet?”

“I’m here,” his voice came from beneath an archway.

“I need to talk to you.”

“If its about Em, do whatever you need to.”

Half the room paused. Tripp with his ass halfway off the stool he’d been sitting in, and Angel with a pancake mid-flip.

I guess no one expected that response other than Evie and me.

“But you like her,” Angel protested.

“I’ve liked a lot of girls. None of them stick.”

“Okay, but you really like her,” Evie piped up. “And before you come back with some dipshit remark, it’s been obvious since she showed up at the lodge.”

“See.” Angel pointed to Evie with one bold red, manicured nail. “If that evil bitch says its true, then it’s true.”

“Women read too much into things. Haven’t you been single for the past three years?” he directed at Angel, going for the OJ I’d just put back in the fridge. “And Evie’s got a fiancé none of us ever see.”

Both girls turned and looked at him with matching glares.

“That’s my cue to get the fucks out of here,” Tripp muttered, exiting the kitchen through the rear French doors.

“My man is the one always busting his ass for us behind the scenes.” Evie snapped. “Be a little grateful.”

I watched the three of them banter, sipping down my orange juice. Callum engaged accordingly, but I could tell he was somewhat distracted. Emery must have gotten under his skin the other night. He’d tell me about it when he was ready. I wasn’t going to pry.

Tripp returned with the items I’d asked him to grab, coming to stand beside me. He was a big motherfucker, tall and beefy. His tats and long hair gave people a certain impression about him. He could be a vicious machine when need be, but with us he was a giant teddy-bear, a fucking genius too.

I drained down the rest of my OJ, and then rolled my shoulders. “We have forty-eight hours to get Jericho his proto-type.”

That was enough to end their bickering.

“Did you talk to Nova about it?” Angel asked.

“Did it sound like they were talking last night?” Tripp questioned rhetorically.

“That’s usually how I communicate too,” Callum joked.

“Because you’re sadly all fuck-boy and no brains.” Evie rolled her eyes at him. “Do you think she’ll tell you where it is?”

I shrugged. “I can’t give you a for sure answer. Nova is Nova. She doesn’t trust me, but she also knows now that it was never her fathers to begin with.”

“But ya’ll did stuff,” Angel objected.

“I know my dicks miraculous, but it isn’t a miracle worker.”

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