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He nods his approval.
“Oh, here. These too.” I hand him a pair of thick socks.
“There, was that so hard?”
“I feel bad, I haven’t asked you to leave anything at my place,” I admit.
“The apartment I’m staying at isn’t that far from your house. We’re in the middle of nowhere here,” he explains. “Although, the girls are usually helpful at rounding up stuff if anyone needs it.”
Someone pounds on Dex’s bedroom door. “Downstairs in ten!” they shout.
“The fuck?” Dex growls.
Whoever it is continues pounding on doors and making the same announcement up and down the hallway.
Shouts of “fuck off” and loud groans can be heard outside our room.
Dex grabs his phone and checks his messages. A deep frown creases his brow.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Not sure. We were meeting at eleven anyway. Don’t know why it suddenly got moved up.”
I finish getting dressed, grab my phone, then follow Dex out of his room. We join a few of his rumpled, bed-headed brothers in marching down the stairs.
A bunch of people seem to be clustered near the doors Dex said belonged to their “war room.” Some of the women I met last night are with them.
Shelby’s eyes widen and she runs over to hug me. “Mornin’!”
“What’s going on?” Dex asks Rooster.
Rooster glances at us and shakes his head. “Still waitin’ for Rock, Murphy, and Z to get here.”
Dex blows out an annoyed breath but doesn’t say anything.
Sparky ambles up to us, his long, baggy jeans trailing over the hardwood floor.
“Was that you I saw feeding the birds at the crack of dawn?” I ask.
He lifts his head and stares at me, like I caught him doing something naughty and I’m tattling to his parents.
“Wait a minute?” Wrath gasps and joins our circle. “Sparky was outside in the daylight? Willingly?”
“Sorry,” I mutter to Sparky.
He shrugs it off. “I like the birds. Their music brings harmony to the home.”
“Their shit brings out my need to slap you around when it lands on my bike,” Wrath warns.
“It’s good luck,” Sparky insists.
Shelby steps up and taps a finger against Sparky’s chest. “I’ve got a good one I’ve been saving up for ya, Sparky.”
He waits with a hopeful expression, similar to a basset hound under the dinner table, waiting for you to throw a treat.
“Why can bees handle their liquor?” Shelby grins and rocks back on her heels.
Sparky scratches his head. “Because they only get a little buzzed?”
