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Granny claps her hands, and that’s it for me. I’m whisked off the bed and hurtled into a flurry of fast-moving brothers. In no time, I’m in my tux, my hair is combed—not by me either, which is slightly creepy—and I’m slipping into a fresh pair of shiny black shoes.
“Well…” Ransom stands back with the rest of my brothers to inspect me. “I guess you’ll pass.”
So, with that proclamation, I’m led downstairs to wait. I sit in the living room nervously, along with my men, who flank me on all sides. My brothers take up the rest of the spaces that are still unoccupied. Lennox grumbles about having to bring in a chair from the kitchen because there isn’t enough room, but he parks his ass and looks happy enough despite all his fussing.
Thank goodness this group is by far the wildest group of characters you’ll ever meet. It’s not long before Pink is standing up and walking around the room, showing his phone to everyone. “It’s super cute. That poor little chicken. It’s adorable that they made her a wheelchair, so now she can walk like the other chickens. And not just walk but race around too. Go, little chicken, go!”
Lennox pretends not to be impressed, but I can tell he likes the video. He’s a big softie, just like Ransom, who actually brushes a tear out of his eye. Orion and Atlas cheer the chicken on, then rib Ransom about the eye leakage. Deano, Binksky, and Johnny all keep their emotions in check, though, so they don’t get poked fun at for having feelings. Not that Ransom cares. He’s the kind of guy who could sit there, cry a bucketload, and still be the toughest motherfarger you’ve ever met. Man tears are tough, by the way. Everyone knows it’s harder to let the emotion out than it is to keep it in and pretend you don’t have any.
As soon as Pink’s ass hits the couch, the doorbell rings. He jumps back up, glancing around the place like some suspicious activity has just occurred, and he needs to be on high alert.
“It’s probably the JP,” I tell him dryly, even though my palms are waterfalling all over me because I’m suddenly that nervous.
Sure enough, a middle-aged man who looks more nervous than I feel is ushered into the room. He’s clutching a black binder against the paunch that overhangs his belt. He looks decidedly kind, with thick glasses and a forced smile that probably comes easier when there aren’t nine hulking black-clad beastly men surrounding him in a single room.
“I’m looking for a Miss Gougleheimbutzler?”
We all try and hold back our snickers at once. If Granny is going to pick an alias, then I wish she’d pick something normal, but she always goes for the extreme.
“Did she give you a first name?” Lennox wheezes. He’s turning purple from holding in the burst of laughter that wants to spill out.
“Oh. Yes.” The JP peels open his binder and consults it through his heavy-framed glasses. “Doodioh.”
“Doodioh Gougleheimbuztler?” Lennox holds up a palm while his face turns plum purple. “One second.”
He marches out of the room, and I hear the back door open and slide shut. No doubt he’s talking a big long walk around the backyard, laughing his sillies out where no one can hear him.
I shoot up from the couch before I can burst into guffaws so loud that they bend me in half and get everyone going. “Drinks. I think drinks are in order. Can I get you anything? Water? Milk? A shot of rye whisky?”
The JP fumbles with the light brown dress shirt he’s wearing under a brown sweater vest with an argyle pattern on the front. I wonder why they never carry the design over to the back. Like argyle seriously rocks. It deserves to be on both sides. He tugs up the shirt sleeve after a lot of effort, all just to check his watch. And yeah, it really is just after eight in the morning.
“Uh, water, please.”
“Alright? Anyone else?” It’s unanimous from the rest of my brothers and my men that they would all like the five o’clock somewhere special. “Great. I’ll bring the bottle.”
I leave the stunned JP to the mercy of my brothers while I go to the kitchen to fetch a tray with glasses and a bottle of water. Lennox slides into the patio door, but as soon as he sees me and we share a glance, he needs to evacuate the premises again.
I enter the living room bearing some very much-needed gifts—okay, so it might be liquid courage, but that’s beside the point. As soon as I get into the room, I have to do a double take. Because there, standing just to the side of the JP, who looks much more comfortable now that there are women present, is my bride-to-be.
