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“Loud and clear.”
“Don’t be too public with your affection. Hearin’ that shit is weird. But you make her happy, and we’re good. You understand me?”
“All I want is to make her as happy as she makes me.”
“Un-fucking-believable,” Hurricane mumbles, then turns, walking for the clubhouse, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s totally uncomfortable with everything about this whole thing.
Bayou, on the other hand, walks over and slaps my shoulder. “Welcome to the family,pops.” He chuckles so loudly.
Scrunching my face, I groan. “No, just fucking no.”
He lets out a louder belly laugh as he wraps his arm around my neck and walks back to the clubhouse with me. “Honestly, if I could have picked a guy for my stepmother, you’re the kinda guy I’d want her with. Is it weird you’re younger than me? Yeah! But so what? Whatever makes that woman happy makes me happy. Give Hurricane time… he takes longer to get used to shit. Me, I’m already over it. If you love Ingrid, that’s all I need to know.”
I breathe out, the release of tension waning as we walk inside the clubhouse, everyone looking our way, wondering what the hell is happening. “Thanks, brother… appreciate it.”
“What the fuck is going on? You’re being fucking weird,” Hoodoo calls out.
I glance at Ingrid, sitting by the bar looking tense, drinking some kind of hard alcohol.
The secret is out now.
It’s better if everyone knows.
So I stand in front of my brothers, practically naked, and throw my hands to the side. “I, South of NOLA Defiance, am utterly in love with Ingrid Ladet.”
She gasps, dropping her drink to the floor, the glass shattering on impact.
Oh, shit.
Did I read this wrong?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ingrid
The burn of bourbon does nothing to soothe my anger.
Or is it nerves?I’m not entirely sure.
I’ve come a long way from that gin-drinking girl I used to be. Now, it seems the hard stuff doesn’t even work for me anymore. It’s been a hell of a couple of days, and this little stunt from Hurricane and Bayou is something I really didn’t need to top it off.
I watch as the three of them walk back inside the clubhouse, Bayou and South seeming to be back on friendly terms, which eases my anxiety somewhat.
But I feel like this went down exactly how Ididn’twant it to go.
I never wanted to feel ashamed or disappointed in my boys.
But boy, do I feel it.
And I think that hurts most of all.
“What the fuck is going on? You’re being fucking weird,” Hoodoo calls out.
I tense all over, knowing the entire clubhouse is officially aware that shit is going down. So I take another drink of my bourbon as I spot South.
I see a sparkle in his eyes, and if anything, he looks relieved.
Somehow, that makes me feel calmer as he strolls out, standing in front of everyone, practically naked, throwing his hands to the side. “I, South of NOLA Defiance, am utterly in love with Ingrid Ladet.”
