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As much as I like Sam, she has a way of crawling under my skin.
Take now for instance.
“My apologies.” Everett bows his head to her. “But I’m afraid Lemon is the love of my life.”
“No apologies necessary.” Sam sighs over at the bar. “I think I’ve met the love of my life as well.”
Meg snorts.
Meg is one year younger than me, late twenties, has dark hair spun in a beehive, wears copious amounts of dark eyeliner, and dresses like a punk rock princess.
She used to be a major player in the female wrestling circuit down in Vegas but now she runs the strip joint down the street, Red Satin. And on occasion she still works for Charlie at the Honey Pot Diner.
“As if you stand a chance with a man like Jed Silver.” Meg sheds a maniacal smile. Fun fact: Meg rarely, if ever, smiles. She’s a lot like Everett in that respect. “He needs someone who enjoys the grittier side of life. You couldn’t keep up with him, honey.”
Noah steps over, but before he can so much as shed a smile himself, Sam gets right up in Meg’s face.
“Oh yeah?” she howls. “Well, it just so happens I keep up with him just fine—in bed.”
“Sam?” Noah’s face bleaches out.
But neither Sam nor Meg pays him or his pale face any mind.
“Is that right?” A dark laugh brews in my sister’s chest. “Well, it just so happens he keeps up with me in bed, too. How’s that for the man of your dreams?”
Sam gasps so loud, half the patrons living and dead crane their necks this way.
“Save it, sis,” Meg barks in Sam’s face. “You’re amateur hour, and I’m a seasoned pro. Take a guess who he’ll be going home with tonight?” She takes off for the bar and Sam shakes her head.
“I’m going to kill her,” she declares. “And then I’m going to kill Jed, too,” she says as she stalks off in my sister’s wake.
“Save Jed for me,” Noah growls after her. “And maybe don’t touch Meg either.”
“Thank you,” I tell him just as he comes in for a quick embrace.
“How about you thank me later?” He offers a soft smile. “I’ve got a hankering for some pizza at Mangias, and I’d love your company.”
“Sounds great. Anyplace that’s not the bakery or Rizzo’s is a welcome distraction,” I say.
“Then it’s a date.”
Everett’s chest bounces. “You are not dating my wife, Fox.”
“My wife.” Noah nods as if it were a fact.
It may be a fact, but still, Noah is playing with fire when it comes to Everett. Although, that’s never stopped him before.
“Your marriage to Lottie is just as much a technicality as mine,” Noah says to Everett with a stern look. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re on an even playing field. You and Lot should have a discussion about it.”
Everett lifts his chin a notch. “We will later tonight, under the roof we share, in the bed we happen to share, too.”
Carlotta giggles like a schoolgirl. “Don’t worry, Foxy. I’ll stick a glass to the wall and report every grunt and groan I hear.”
Before Noah can decline or accept the offer, my mother comes this way with an entire gaggle of women with her—four to be exact.
The phrase here comes trouble blips through my mind.
I’m not sure which one is trouble, but I have a feeling we’re about to find out.
