2.
Jewel is going to shock us all and find a good man who realizes she’s royalty and treats her that way. She’ll pop out half a dozen babies and take over the PTA the second she registers her first kid in kindergarten. After that, the sky’s the limit.
Smokey Forrester
JEWEL
“My oldest son lives in Colorado, but my younger two still live with me–at least part-time, since they go to their father’s house every other week.”
“How old is the one in Colorado?”
I smiled at my new friend. Honestly, calling her that didn’t feel like a stretch, even though we’d only met a few days ago. “Parker is almost twenty-five.”
“No!” Gabby looked confused for a second. “You had him before you went to med school?”
“I had him when I was sixteen.”
“Oh, goodness. Graduating high school with an infant must have been incredibly difficult. But then college and med school? Your internship and residency? I can’t imagine.”
“My family and his father’s family are very close, and everyone was so supportive it wasn’t nearly as hard as you’d think.
I’m very lucky to have all of them, including Parker’s father.
” I pointed toward a group of men standing across the bar.
“The man in the black button-up shirt is Parker’s father, Micah Tempest.”
“He’s Rin’s uncle?” Angelia asked, clearly confused. It made sense, given how many people she’d met since arriving in Rojo for Bella Conner and Matteo Russo’s wedding. All of our families were so interwoven it was difficult to keep track.
“No, he’s Rin’s cousin. Rin’s father is Loki Tempest, and Micah’s father is Styx Tempest.”
“Okay, I think I’ve got it now,” Angelia said as she worked out the connection. Her niece by marriage, Constance–whom everyone lovingly called Stan–was living with Rin, who I’d known since he was born and had babysat more than a few times. “And you have two more children?”
“Yes. Robby is eighteen, and Max is sixteen.”
“Where is their father?” Gabby asked, scanning the bar.
“Not here, and unfortunately not roasting in hell yet, but I’m waiting patiently.”
Gabby, Angelia, and their sister-in-law, Bex, who sat on my other side, cackled before their friend, Tabby, asked, “How many times have you planned his horribly painful death?”
Angelia laughed. “Hypothetically, of course.”
“As much as I’d love to make it happen, I can’t do it. He’s a good father to Robby and Max, even though he was a shitty stepfather to Parker.”
“He treated your oldest son differently?” Gabby asked.
“When it was just the three of us, he was wonderful to Parker. But when Robby was born, his entire demeanor changed, and it only got worse when Max arrived.”
“Obviously, Rico was lucky enough to marry a woman who adores all of his children . . .”
Gabby’s voice trailed off when Bex interrupted. “Because they’re incredible!”
“They are,” Gabby agreed with a grin. “Luckily, when Ziggy married his second wife, she fell in love with his boys, Zander and Zane, and still maintains a wonderful relationship with them to this day.”
“Did they have any children together?” I asked.
“Another set of twins, actually–Ziva and Zara. They’re here in Rojo, too, but I think they made friends with some of the young adults Stan introduced them to when they were in Colorado, so we haven’t seen them much.”
“How old are they?”
“The boys are twenty-four, and the girls are eighteen.”
“I’m sure your nieces hang out in a group that includes my younger sons, and my guess is your nephews have already met Parker.”
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they all became friends? Vigo and Nicky are right around that age, so they’re probably part of the same group.”
“I wonder where they are right now, since all the adults came here to the bar.”
“Gabby, my friend, it’s best not to wonder about things like that. We’ll just assume they’re all tucked into their beds dreaming of lollipops and gummy bears instead of what we know is more likely.”
“What’s that?”
“They’re in a field somewhere, drunk on cheap wine and moonshine they stole from Landry’s still.”
“Yep,” Bex said with a knowing grin. She looked up and smiled dreamily. “Oh, the days . . .”
“I never did that,” Tabby said primly. She giggled. “Often. I didn’t do that often.”
“Considering I’ve probably gotten drunk in that same field with the parents, aunts, and uncles of most of the kids out there, it terrifies me, but what can I do?” I asked. “They’ve gotta spread their wings. The only thing we can do is hope they stick together and don’t do anything too stupid.”
“You fit in so well with us; it’s hard to imagine we just met,” Gabby said earnestly. “To most people, that would be terrifying. But when you know, you know, right?”
My gaze drifted to Micah, who was chatting with a man I’d met during Bella’s wedding festivities. Whatever Micah said made the man laugh. I’d always loved Micah’s laugh, and no matter what was happening in our lives, it never failed to make me smile.
Micah glanced my way and winked when he caught me watching.
I rolled my eyes, but then I noticed the man he’d been talking to was frowning at me.
I kept my expression pleasant, even though he studied me like a lab specimen.
If anything, his glare made my smile even brighter–or evil, if you listened to my siblings describe it.
Micah said something to the man that deepened his scowl, but it only made Micah laugh harder as he started walking my way. The fact that the stranger couldn’t take his eyes off of me felt a little disconcerting, but I also took it as a challenge.
I loved a challenge.
◆◆◆
ZIGGY
“I seriously had no idea people like this existed outside of movies and television,” I admitted as I looked around the crowd that didn’t look like they belonged in the same room together.
Tattooed bikers with an air that screamed I don’t give a shit about what you think chatted with businessmen, who mingled with blue-collar men and women.
I appreciated the diversity of the people I’d met in Rojo so far, just like I liked getting to know the family of my niece’s boyfriend.
One of them was currently laughing at my observation.
“Should we be having a gang fight in the street or something?” Micah asked. “I thought a man of your . . . um . . . position would understand the whole family thing.”
“My position?” I rolled my eyes. “Famiglia is the most important thing to us, yes, but we’re not usually known for our diverse array of friends.”
“We are,” Micah boasted.
His face lit up when he spotted someone across the room.
I followed his gaze and found the woman who had accosted me at the paintball field.
I reached up and rubbed my nipple, still sporting a dark purple bruise from where she pinched me with her gnarled witch claws .
. . no, that wasn’t true. I remembered thinking her hands were delicate, just like her features, and wondering how the hell an angel could be so fucking abrasive.
“Do you know that woman?” I asked.
“I know pretty much every woman here except the ones related to you.”
“The sharp-tongued, sarcastic one over there.”
Micah threw his head back and roared. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, because you just described almost all of them.”
“At the table. Why is she smiling like that?”
“It makes you think she’s plotting something, doesn’t it?”
“Yes! That’s exactly what I thought.”
“She probably is, and whatever she’s coming up with in that fantastic mind of hers will shock everyone around to witness the fallout.”
“How can such a beautiful woman be so fucking irritating?”
“That is a question all of the men in my family have been asking for ages, my friend. Let’s go over there and fuck with her. She’s so fun to pick on I can never seem to resist.”
“Stay out of reach, because she has a grip like a vise,” I warned, walking toward the table with him.
“I know, right? I think I’ve still got a bruise from the last time she pinched me.”
“She attacked you like she did me, huh?”
“Yep. I said something shitty about Parker’s girlfriend, and she pinched the shit out of me. She said if I kept trying to pull him away from her, he’d just hold on tighter. Sounds like something she’d do, so it tracks.”
“Parker’s your son, right?” I asked as we stopped next to the table.
“He’s our son, but Mic seems to forget that occasionally, especially when Parker acts like a decent human,” the woman answered. “When he was a teenager and caught a horrible case of asshole, he suddenly became my son.”
“That’s the joy of co-parenting, Jewel. You get to blame other people for whatever bullshit your kid tries to pull.”
“You share a child?” I asked in horror.
“He’s an adult now, but yes.”
“How did you survive?” I asked Micah.
“How did he survive? I’m the one who gave birth to the boy!” she announced in outrage.
I looked at Micah, then back at Jewel, and taunted, “I thought you’d be the type to rip your mate’s head off when the deed was done. Some insects do that, don’t they?”
“The praying mantis does, and I think the black widow does something similar, but I’m not sure,” Micah said. “I think there’s an octopus that kills her mate too.”
“I’m surprised you’re still alive.”
“So am I,” Micah admitted.
Jewel shuddered. “I practiced immense restraint then and a million times more through the years, although ripping someone’s head off sounds fun. Wanna volunteer so I can try it?”
My sister-in-law snorted, but Jewel’s face stayed expressionless as she watched my reaction. Instead of replying with something scathing to make her back down, I said, “Can I have at least one dance before you kill me?”
“That’s your last wish?”
“Not the only one, but I’ll settle for it right now.”
“Get up and dance with him, Jewel,” Micah encouraged. “Come on. Practice those social niceties your mom has worked to teach you since birth.”
“Obviously, I’m not a very good student,” Jewel said without moving.
“I thought you’d have a little more spark than that,” I said as I looked around the room. “Sad, really.”
“Are you trying to bait me into dancing with you?”
“No, I’m calling you a pussy because you talk a good game and injure a man when he’s down, but you won’t stand toe-to-toe with someone immune to your attitude.”
“He did not!” Jewel gasped, looking around before staring at Micah. “Did he just . . .?”
“Put the claws away, kitten, and dance with me.”
“You just called me a pussy in two ways!” Jewel shouted in horror as she stood up and slammed her chair under the table.
“I’m a multitasker. What can I say?”
“The audacity!”
“Your mouth is moving, but all I hear is ‘meow meow meow,’” I taunted.
Micah laughed so hard he had to hold onto the back of the chair in front of him to stand upright.
The women around the table watched our back-and-forth like a tennis match they couldn't look away from. I didn’t care about the audience, though.
I was locked on the woman with fire in her eyes, wondering how much I could taunt her before she exploded.
I decided to push a little harder. Leaning forward until I was just a fraction closer to Jewel, I whispered, “Meow.”
Jewel reached out, quick as a flash. Given our first encounter and the bruise on my chest that reminded me of it every time I looked in the mirror, it took everything I had not to flinch.
Somehow, I remained still. Instead of pinching me or punching me in the face like her expression suggested she wanted to do, she grabbed my hand, spun around, and marched toward the dance floor.
When she nearly yanked me off my feet, forcing me to jog to keep up, the entire table behind us hooted with laughter, throwing in a few whistles and a smattering of applause.
Then I caught a whiff of Jewel’s perfume, and everything around me fell away, unimportant now that I had the scent of my prey.
And that’s exactly what Jewel Parker was now: my prey.
Every time I thought about the irritating woman, all I could think about was how much I wanted to get my hands on her.
Not around her neck to choke that cocky smile off her face.
I’d never actually do that. I wanted my hands roaming all over what I knew had to be soft, smooth skin.
From the sides of her breasts, into the curve of her waist, and down over her hips that begged for my fingers to leave bruises that were pleasurable rather than painful, like the one she’d given me.
I wasn’t sure what the hell was wrong with me that I found such an abrasive woman so goddamn irresistible.
Yet here I was, walking toward a dance floor with the twang of country music pumping out of the speakers while every eye in the room seemed glued to the inevitable showdown bound to happen the second we were within reaching distance of each other.
I felt like a kid in a candy store, barely able to contain my excitement at the challenge ahead.
Maybe my sister was right and I needed to get my head checked, or at least get a brain scan. Other than insanity or a tumor, no reasonable explanation existed for why this woman’s smart mouth was just as sexy to me as the body it was attached to.
Insanity. That was the only explanation.