Page 6 of Feel It in the Air

“Seven.”

“Seven?”

There it is. The inevitable shock that comes with that number. I nod, confirming that she heard me properly.

“Five brothers, one sister. And yes, she’s the baby, spoiled out of her mind. Before you ask, our parents deny that they kept going until they had a girl, but that doesn’t stop my sister from pointing out that they ‘stopped after achieving perfection,’” I joke, trying to imitate Willa. I do a poor job, but it still earns me a giggle.

“I’m sure they didn’t.” She gives me a wink, playing along with taking my side.

Our food arrives, and we dig in, our conversation lulling a bit as we shovel in the food. As much as I want to be a gentleman, I’m hungrier than I realized, and polish off the potstickers before she even gets one. She doesn’t seem to mind though, having made it halfway through the fries all on her own.

My phone vibrates again, and my stomach clenches, eyes flicking over to Marlo’s phone, waiting for hers to react as well. Only this time, mine’s a solo act. Uh-oh.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Marlo stop, a fry halfway to her mouth, trying to be inconspicuous about watching me as I check to see what it is. I swear, if it’s another delay, I might lose my mind.

Fate is on my side though. Sort of.

It’s not another delay. It is, however, Willa. Still pissed at me for being unable to control the weather.

I sigh, dismissing her text without replying. I can deal with her nonsense later.

“Bad news?”

“Nope,” I reply, popping a nacho into my mouth. “Just said spoiled baby sister. She’s upset because I am not Thor, God of Thunder.”

Marlo looks at me quizzically. “Your little sister is pissed because you’re not the hot Avenger?”

Errr…no. That’s not what I meant. Umm, shit. Shit. Time to backpedal. Because that is not what I meant. At all.

“No. No. Who was the Greek god of weather? Zeus? She’s upset I’m not him.” I huff out a breath, grabbing my beer and slugging back a couple of big swigs, as Marlo laughs. Glad one of us finds this funny. “Sorry, it’s been a really long day trying to get back to Atlanta. We have this new marketing director starting, and she’s moving to Georgia from Boston. The town we live in is three hours outside Atlanta, so we coordinated the whole thing so our flights would land around the same time and we could drive back together. Only⁠—”

“Only you got stuck here,” she finishes for me.

I nod. “And my sister is pissed. She is really excited about this new hire, and I am too. She comes from a fantastic firm, and her being willing to relocate to Georgia is huge, and this is not the first impression I wanted to make.”

“Gus, like you said, you don’t control the weather.”

I hold out my phone toward her. “Care to call my sister and explain that?”

“Nope!”

Time for a change of subject.

“You said you had a brother who is running the restaurant?”

“I do. I’m the oldest of three. Two younger brothers, one who runs the restaurant with my mother and grandfather and the other is in the army. Everyone is currently back in Louisiana.”

Louisiana. I knew it.

“New Orleans?”

“Of course.”

“I’d say Go Tigers, but that’d be betraying my Dawgs.”

“First, it’s Geaux Tigers,” she says, placing the emphasis and inflection on the word so it sounds not only slightly more French, but infinitely sexier. “And second…” She narrows her eyes playfully, leaning in closer. “Dogs gets fleas.”

“And overgrown cats don’t?” I counter.