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“Yep, thanks to Meg.” Once she’d strapped Asher into his car seat, she slid into the Audi. The tires crunched as Tanner then began a slow drive along the lengthy driveway.
At one time, Harper had been intimidated by the estate with its heavy metal gates, long manicured lawn, neatly-trimmed hedges, and the high-brick walls. Then there was the house itself. Well, “house” wasn’t the right word. Not for such an expansive, magnificent piece of custom-built architecture. It was way ahead of its time and possessed the same allure and charm as its owner.
Before Knox, she’d lived in a dingy apartment in North Las Vegas. She’d never known this kind of luxury. Never thought she’d be able to feel that she “fit” amongst high vaulted ceilings, winding staircases, upscale furnishings, and walk-in cedar closets. But the estate had become her private little oasis.
Riding shotgun, Keenan glanced over his shoulder. “Is Knox meeting you at Jolene’s house?”
“Yes. I don’t think he’s disappointed that he’s running late. An afternoon with my family is never relaxing.” Wild and rowdy, Wallis imps would test even a nun’s patience, especially with their penchant for lying, stealing, and cheating, amongst many other things.
“It’s a kids’ tea party,” said Keenan, facing forward. “How bad can it be?”
When they pulled up outside Jolene’s house a short while later, “I Don’t Fuck With You” by Big Sean filtered out of the open windows. The front of the house was virtually covered in balloons and paper lanterns. Yard cards were strewn across the lawn—some were clocks, some were tea pots, others were playing cards. All of them surrounded a huge cardboard cutout of the Mad Hatter.
As
Harper carried Asher up the path and to the porch, he pointed at the decorations, oohing and awing. She rang the doorbell, rubbing her cheek against his plump, petal-soft one. His hands gently slapped her cheeks, squishing her face.
“Ow,” she mumbled. He just giggled.
Just then, the door swung open. Jolene Wallis didn’t look like a grandmother. Not with her chic blouse, sleek skirt, high heels, perfectly coiled hair, and veneer of sheer elegance. She also didn’t look bat-shit crazy, but she totally was.
“Finally, you’re here.” Jolene stepped back and gestured for them to enter. “Harper, I’ve missed you.” She gave her a one-armed hug. “And where’s my little guy?” Jolene plucked Asher out of her arms. “Come to Grams. I love this little outfit you’re rocking.”
“You should, since you bought it,” said Harper. Well, Jolene bought the jeans and checked shirt. The boots came from Raini, Harper’s friend and business partner.
Jolene kissed his cheek. “Come see what’s in the backyard.”
Harper and the sentinels followed her down the hallway. Passing the living room, Harper peeked inside. Male imps were crowded on the couches, chairs, and floor, drinking beer and eating chips while watching a basketball game on TV. She was pretty sure the one curled around the beer keg, clinging to the funnel, had passed out. Typical.
She heard laughter, squealing, and the whir of an air compressor before she even stepped into the backyard, so the bouncy castle came as no surprise.
People waved and shouted out welcomes. Some sat on lawn furniture and floor pillows while others stood around the long patio table, filling paper plates with snack foods. A bunch of female relatives swarmed Jolene to fuss over Asher, who giggled at the kids that were jumping in the bouncy castle like demented kangaroos.
Frilly three-tiered cake stands sat on kid-sized tables among plastic teacups, saucers, and spoons. There were dozens upon dozens of cupcakes—all were covered in different colored swirly frosting topped with either edible sprinkles, pearls, glitter, flowers, or chocolate chips. Harper would nab a few when she got a chance.
Her aunt, Martina, left the outdoor bar and approached with a tray of Jell-O shots. “Drink, anyone? We also have iced tea, lemonade, mojitos, margaritas, and beer.”
Keenan’s brow furrowed. “This is a kids’ tea party, right?”
“Uh-huh.” Martina downed a shot like a pro. “No Knox?”
“He’s meeting me here later,” Harper told her. Hearing the snap of flip-flops, she looked to see Raini approaching. “Hey, how are you?”
“Good, thanks,” replied the succubus, flicking her white-blonde, pink-streaked hair over her shoulder. “Ooh, I’ll have one of those.” Raini grabbed a neon-blue shot and chugged it down. Even in her casual clothing, she exuded sex with her wicked curves, flawless skin, and sharp amber eyes. “Where’s my honorary nephew?”
“With Grams.” Harper frowned when she saw Jolene coming toward them, empty handed. “Or, at least, I thought he was. Where’s Asher, Grams?”
“On the bouncy castle. Khloë has him,” Jolene replied.
Keenan’s frown deepened. “Khloë’s in there?” He sighed, adding dryly, “Well of course she is. Where else would she be?”
Yeah, Harper’s cousin wasn’t exactly the most mature person in the world, so it often surprised people that she was incredibly well-organized. It was that very quality that made Harper and Raini hire her as the receptionist at their tattoo studio in the Underground—a subterranean demonic paradise owned by Knox.
Chuckling, Harper watched as Khloë gently bounced Asher, who tried stomping his little feet on the inflatable castle.
Tanner’s own chuckle cut off as he looked over Harper’s shoulder and grinned, golden eyes lighting up. “Here kitty, kitty.”
Devon, an apprentice at their studio, glared at the hellhound. “Eat shit, pooch.”
