“No. Nope.” He shook his head and dropped his hand, still scowling at me. He turned to Lottie. “I know men like this. All’s said and done, I won’t have any girls left. So I do not give any of these matches my blessing. Hear me?”
“Smithie,” Lottie said softly.
“I like these ones,” Smithie declared, throwing an arm out to encompass all of us girls. “If I have to get new ones, I might not like ’em.”
“Smithie, you like everybody,” Lottie reminded him.
“I don’t like you right now,” he retorted.
She smiled at him. “Big, softhearted liar. You want them all to be happy. You’re just gonna miss her. Admit it.”
“I’ll come and visit,” I called.
“You will?” Hattie asked hopefully.
“Totally,” I told her. “And I’ll arrange a…a game night at Danny and my place. We’ll play Dungeons and Dragons.”
Lottie, Ryn, Pepper, Hattie, nor Roxie, Shirleen, or Sadie (who was also hanging out in the seating area, another Rock Chick, this one married to Hector) looked fired up about D&D.
Smithie turned on me. “You movin’ in with him?”
“We already live together, Smithie.”
“Because you were in danger of being kidnapped,” he returned. “That’s how it goes. Bitch is in distress, man moves her in, covers her ass—”
“Then keeps her there, marries her and fills her with babies. You’ve been through this nine times, Smithie,” Lottie told him. “It’s time to get with the program.”
“Eight,” he fired back. “I wasn’t around for Indy. And all but one of the other ones, that one being you, didn’t dance for me,” he shot back.
“Well, you know, it’s next gen. Go with the flow,” she advised.
The bell over the door rang at this juncture, and when it did, Gert said, “Oh Lord,” and Shirleen said, “You got that right, sister.”
I looked to the door.
And understood immediately what they were talking about.
Mag was standing there, all the guys fanned out behind him.
I didn’t take in any of the boys.
Because Mag’s eyes were on me.
Nope.
Scratch that.
His eyes shooting electric-blue gamma rays were pinning me to the spot, the heat from them so hot, it felt like the soles of my Chucks were on fire.
“We’re leaving now,” he announced, in a growly, hot, scary voice.
I didn’t take this as an indication I’d get news about what went down at Glazed & Confused with him, the guys, my dad and Brett/Cisco.
I took this as Mag being pissed.
For some reason at me.
Oh boy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Danny
Evie
The first thing I noticed as Mag opened the passenger-side door of his truck was that my purse was sitting on the seat.
As was my Nordstrom bag.
I looked up at him.
“How did you—?”
“Get in the truck, Evan.”
Okay, we were on uncertain ground here.
Frightening uncertain ground.
And in order not to escalate that feeling, wordlessly, I reached out, grabbed both bags and climbed into his truck.
By the time he angled in beside me, I had the Nordstrom bag on the floor at the side of my feet, my purse in my lap and my seatbelt on.
He said nothing as he engaged the ignition, scanned his mirrors and pulled out.
I also said nothing as he did this, for it was dawning on me I might have made a terrible mistake.
He had anger issues. He was very open about that. They were such, they concerned him.
But honest to God, until that moment, they didn’t concern me.
I thought, even if I didn’t have the tools to help him handle them, I’d have the patience where I could handle them.
Now, considering I didn’t do anything for him to be angry about, but it was not only clear he was angry with me, it had been hours since we’d been set free and I had no idea what had happened at Glazed & Confused with my own father—something I felt should be reported to me with all due haste—but everyone was alive, well and safe, I didn’t know why he was mad at me…or anybody.
And bottom line, I’d had a really bad day.
A really bad day.
My friends and I had been kidnapped, some of them shot at.
My dad was a big jerk.
Some bad guy was into me.
And maybe, I thought, with all of that, a little gentleness and understanding would not go amiss.
Thus, truth be told, I was a little hurt that I had Angry Mag and not my normal Sweet Affectionate Mag.