He kept hold of my hand as he pulled me down the stairs, Bossy following. And he kept hold of it as he pulled me to a stop in the foyer.
Bossy barked at the company we had crowding the space.
I looked down at her and said, soft but firm, “Quiet. Sit. Stay, baby.”
She looked up at me, quieted and sat.
“Oo, sugar! Isn’t that precious! Your dog is sooooo good.”
My head snapped up and I took in a woman who, at first glance, I thought was Dolly Parton.
I also saw Hanna and Raid, a handsome but scary man standing next to the Dolly lookalike, and another handsome (incredibly handsome) but scary and younger man standing next to a very beautiful woman. Last, I saw a petite blonde who still looked like she could take a stab at kicking Deacon’s ass and hold her own (before he bested her, of course), standing next to another handsome man who had a scar on his face.
She had a baby to her hip.
So did the beautiful woman, not to mention her hot guy held a toddler.
“I’ll do this so you boys, and girl,” the Dolly lady started, tipping her head to the petite blonde, “can get your shit sorted so you can get shit sorted.” She stepped forward. “I’m Daisy Sloan. That’s my honey bunches of oats, Marcus.” She pointed at the older, good-looking guy.
Even as scary as all this was, I was fighting back a giggle at her honey bunches of oats comment.
“This here is Tucker and Sylvie Creed and their baby, Jesse,” she went on, giving me the knowledge of who the petite woman and hot, scarred guy were. “That there is Knight Sebring, his woman Anya, their girls Kat and Kasha.” She indicated the beautiful woman and non-scarred, hot guy. “Think you know Raid and Hanna,” she finished.
“Uh, yeah,” I confirmed, sending a small grin Raid and Hanna’s way. I looked to the others. “Nice to finally meet you all. Deacon says good things.”
I got smiles, grins, and chin lifts.
“Right,” Daisy stated. “Now, Knight’s brother is a pain in the patoot. And ’cause he is, your man is gonna have to go off with all our men,” she circled the air with her upturned finger, “to sort his shit out. We’re stayin’ with you, with Sylvie standin’ guard. Not ’cause she doesn’t want in on the action, ’cause it’s doubtful you’d shoot a man in the face if he came to give us trouble, and she would.”
I blinked before my eyes cut to Sylvie and my mouth dropped open.
Her lips quirked, she lifted her hand and gave me a finger wave.
Deacon’s hand tightened in mine but I heard some chuckles and giggles hit the room, Deacon’s one of the former.
Daisy kept talking.
“I might, but it would depend on what I’m wearin’. Bloodstains are a bitch to get out and my Marcus works hard to keep me in my duds, most of ’em special made, so I don’t wanna ruin them with bloodstains.”
It was then I took in her attire: bolero vest heavily studded with square silver rivets, white tank stretched to the max over enormous bosoms, skintight jeans that were so faded, they almost looked white, these with rips at both knees and up the thighs, massive rhinestone encrusted belt buckle attached to an equally rhinestone encrusted belt, and patent-leather, pink high-heeled, platform sandals that, no other way to describe them, were stripper sandals.
It was the most horrendous outfit I’d ever seen.
And she looked fabulous in it.
“I, uh…” I mumbled.
Daisy cut me off. “So let’s get coffee. You got beds these little ones can be tucked into?”
I turned and motioned to the kitchen. “Coffee in there.”
Hanna headed that way.
“I’ll show you guys to my guestrooms,” I said to Anya and Sylvie.
They headed to me.
“Now, git,” Daisy said to the men, shooing them with neon pink taloned hands toward my living room. “Sort your shit so this shit can get sorted. I don’t do the outdoors, but if I did, I’d do it here, though not for long,” Her massive head of teased platinum-blonde hair swung my way as she said, “No offense. But I like my facials and I’m not thinkin’ there’s a spa close by that can give it to me like I like it.”