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“Lasagna,” Daisy cried.
Dante tugged on Daisy’s hair. “My favorite.”
“Mine too,” my daughter said.
We were eating early, because Dante and Mila worked nights at the club. Mila worked on PR and marketing for the club, as well as Dante’s neighboring bar, Smokehouse, and his two restaurants.
“Everyone, sit at the table,” Lola ordered.
Everyone moved. I set Daisy down, then headed for the fridge, and nabbed a beer.
“You okay?”
I looked up at Beau. “The job’s done. I’m home.”
“You seem…unsettled.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “I’m good.”
Beau’s gaze lingered, but he nodded. “If you need to blow off some steam, come to the gym.” A faint smile crossed his rugged face. “I’ll beat you up for a bit.”
I snorted. “I can hold my own, old man.” Beau was the oldest, but only by a few years. We still liked to give him hell about it.
“I’ll show you, old man,” he grumbled.
“Sit, you two.” Lola pushed between us, waving a hand. “Time to eat.”
I sat down, my little girl chattering in my ear, surrounded by my brothers.
No bad guys, and no tempting assistant.
This was just what I needed.
4
MACY
Taming my mass of hair was never easy. I had some curls, not tight ones, but just enough to make things challenging.
I decided to leave it loose today, even though I knew the humidity would wreak havoc on it.
Music played—Taylor’s latest hit, of course—and I danced my way into the kitchen. There was plenty to be happy about. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, it was summer. Even the humidity couldn’t dampen my mood.
Sometimes I missed San Francisco. Those sweeping views of the Bay and the majesty of the Golden Gate Bridge, but New Orleans more than made up for it. I loved the vibe of the city—sexy, a little mysterious, a little quirky.
Mostly what I missed about San Francisco were the memories of my mother. Losing her to cancer had been the worst thing in my life. Since I was little, it’d just been the two of us. The man who’d fathered me had taken off before I was even born.
Just the two of us, Macy Moo. We can take on the world. Keep rolling, have adventures. Live free.
My mother had always had more than a little hippie in her.
I popped a bagel in the toaster and pulled the cream cheese out of the fridge. The scent of coffee filled the kitchen thanks to the timer on my coffee machine.
I cha-cha-ed across the kitchen, once again so grateful that I’d found this place. It was a cute little shotgun house in Freret, painted a bright blue, with a red door. The best thing, it was close enough that I could ride my bicycle to work.
Thinking about the things I needed to do today, I started a mental list. I needed Colt to sign some paperwork. I wrinkled my nose. I’d probably need to tie the man down.
Ooh. A naughty image of Colt—shirtless and tied to a bed—popped into my head.
