to get you a sandwich,” she declared. “What do you want?”
My stomach had not quite recovered from meeting the gorgeous, beloved, class-act stepmom and being shoved, with no warning, right on the spot (it seemed to be going okay now, I was still gonna kill Rush).
“A Reuben?” I asked like she knew what I liked.
“Excellent choice,” she said to me then in her phone that was now to her ear. “Chill. Hey there. Can you add two Reubens to the order? And a roast beef and swiss on sourdough, grilled. Three more bags of chips, a selection. Don’t let them forget the pickles. And three of their big cookies. Chocolate chip. Snickerdoodle. And oatmeal. Got that, darlin’?” She waited, nodded, and finished, “Good. Thanks, Chill.”
She hung up and looked up at me.
“Donut, coffee, Rebel, and sit down. We’ll chat later about your folks. I want to hear about this landlady of yours. Tack says she’s a stitch.”
I stood where I was.
Her eyes softened (a little) and she said quietly, “It’s okay, Rebel. Rush took us both by surprise. Men often think if they’re good with something, everyone is just going to toe that line. I had a moment. I’m over that moment. Get a donut and we’ll get to know each other.”
“You’ll never lose him, you know. If it’s me or anyone. He’d lose any woman who would even try to make him lose you.”
Her whole face softened (a lot) and she said quietly, “You give your love to a kid, every cell in your body becomes about hoping they’ll find someone to make them happy.”
“I’m kind of a lunatic,” I admitted.
“Then you’ll fit right in,” she replied. “Now, Rebel, get a donut.”
I looked across the way to a little table that had a coffeepot half full of coffee and a big pink box that had two donuts in it.
My stomach rumbled.
So I walked across Tyra Allen’s office to get a donut.
Rush
“Rush?” his father called him.
They’d shot their wad giving him shit.
Now they were killing time wondering if Boz was gardening and waiting for Chill to show with their sandwiches (he should have thought to text for one for him and Rebel, he’d send Chill out to deal with that when he showed) and generally just blowing off steam after all the shit they’d been hit with before they had to settle in and deal with more.
He looked to his old man.
“Where’s Rebel?” Tack asked when he got Rush’s attention.
“I left her in the office with Tyra.”
All conversation ceased.
“You what?” Shy asked, sounding tweaked.
Rush looked at Shy.
The man also looked tweaked.
“I dropped her in the office with Tyra before I came here,” Rush mostly repeated.
Tack kicked back his chair and booked toward the doors.
Rush knew that was not a good thing.
“Dad, what the fuck?” he called, swiveling his chair toward the doors.
His father stopped at them, turned to his son and stated, “You left two redheads alone together, neither of them knowing each other, one of them your stepmother, one of them the woman you moved in with you after a dead body was dumped outside her house.”
Shit.
What was he thinking?
“Holy fuck,” Brick muttered.
Rush shot out of his chair and booked after his father who’d pulled open one of the double doors and moved through.
He heard the sounds of men, a lot of them, on the move behind him but he didn’t look back. He just caught up to his father.
They prowled through the common room of the Compound, out, hit sunshine, and his dad actually broke into a jog as he went across the forecourt.
Fuck.
Rush jogged with him.
Boots hit pavement behind him.
His father took the steps up to the office two at a time.
Rush did too.
Boots hit cement behind him as he did.
Tack threw open the door and stormed in.
Rush followed him.
“What on earth?” Tyra asked.
Rush was crowded as men shoved in behind him.
But all they saw was Tyra at her desk, leaning into her elbows toward Rebel, who was in a chair opposite her, those long legs of hers in her faded jeans stretched in front of her, her cowboy boots crossed at the ankles, her elbows to the arms of her chair, both hands held up. One had a coffee mug, the other a half-eaten donut.
Rebel glanced through the guys and settled on him.
“Hey,” she greeted calmly. “Everything cool?”
“You tell me,” Tack growled, but he wasn’t talking to Rebel, his eyes were on his wife.