Page 32 of New Orleans Rush

Axel scratched his head, a move that allowed him to flex his arm. “I’d like to meet this bitter, feisty Beatrice. She sounds fun.”

Huxley tucked her into his side. “You will do no such thing.”

Fox’s annoying contribution: “That color lipstick really brings out your eyes.”

He needed new brothers. He also liked being branded by Beatrice, red lipstick and all. He imagined burying his face between her thighs, drinking her in, covering his scruffy chin and cheeks in her feminine scent. Not thoughts he should entertain in front of his aggravating siblings. “If you two are done annoying me, it’s time to move along.”

And for Beatrice to reply to his request. He’d bet the theater she was about to agree to spend the night with him. But she extricated herself from his possessive hold, approached Axel, and studied his snake tattoo. Axel tipped his lips into what he deemed his lady-killer smile.

Beatrice stood back and planted her hands on her hips. “Is that a puff adder?”

He angled his inked ribs toward her. “A woman who knows her snakes. I think I’m in love.”

Huxley considered tampering with Axel’s straitjacket so the thing would imprison his obnoxious brother. “Why are you still here?”

“Because your girl is staring at me.”

“I bet the ladies love that ink,” she said.

Axel winked. “You know it.”

“Which gives me an idea.”

“You want to touch my snake?” Axel waggled his eyebrows at Beatrice, while Huxley glowered.

Fox tapped his middle finger against his thigh—his mind-reading pose. “It’s not the worst idea.”

Huxley wasn’t sure which brother to smack first, but Beatrice faced him. “Have you told the boys about your music decision?”

“We’re modernizing the music,” he told them. Now they knew. And they could leave.

“Seriously?” Axel’s eyes lit up like the Christmas their dad got him his pet gopher snake. He loved that reptile more than flexing for beautiful women.

“I’ll work on the music,” Fox said. “You have enough going on with the construction, and I don’t trust Cocky Smurf.”

Beatrice clapped. “You made a joke!”

Fox remained straight-faced. “We’ll see who’s laughing when you suggest the performance change.”

Huxley’s spine went rigid. “Performance change?”

She clicked her heels together, an adorable move he’d noticed a few times. She gestured to Axel’s bare chest. “He’s quite the looker, and those Magic Mike shows do bring in crowds.”

Axel dialed up his smolder to eleven. “If you want me to strip for you, all you have to do is ask.”

Huxley grumbled.

Beatrice shushed him. “I did some research, and there are a couple Australian magicians who perform half-naked. It’s a gimmick, but the ladies love them. I thought it would be a great way to shake things up, market yourselves to women for girls’ nights or bachelorette parties.”

“No way.” Huxley wouldn’t put his damaged body on display for a bunch of drunk women. As it stood, he was hesitant for Beatrice to see his angry scars and puckered skin. Not enough to keep him from pursuing her, but not all women could handle the sight.

“Count me out, but he’ll do it.” Fox jutted his chin toward Axel.

“Damn straight. First the music, now this. Rainbow Brite keying your car could be the best thing to happen to the Marvelous Marlow Boys.”

Huxley couldn’t argue with that. He was also desperate enough to let his brother perform commando if it brought in business. “We’ll try it.”

Beatrice looked at him like he’d hung the moon. “Really?”