Pull You In (Rivers Brothers #3) - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,73

brain day in and day out, baby," he'd told me one night in bed. "That's got to be the most gangsta shit ever."

"It's going to be loud," he warned me again as we pulled up to the house, a sprawling home on lush green grounds, a few straggling yellow and red leaves littering the driveway and front walk, crunching under our feet as we got out of the car.

I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that I would be fine. But I learned not to make promises I couldn't keep when it came to how a situation was going to impact my mental health.

I hoped it would be fine, that I would find the racket charming and homey. But I also knew there was the potential for it to overwhelm me, to stress me out. I might need to excuse myself to the bathroom or the back porch to take a few calming breaths, get myself back together before I went into the thick of it again.

I figured this family would be understanding.

They'd welcomed Ryan's wife, Dusty, with open arms, never seeming to judge her for her anxiety issues.

"Helen's going to like that you cook," he added, squeezing my hand as we made it to the back door just as it burst open, sending a group of kids flying out, knocking into us as they squealed.

"Trial by fire," Rush told me, smiling. "It will be quieter now. There are more older kids right now than younger ones. They'll probably be inside sulking that Helen won't let them fuck around on their phones during Sunday dinner."

"There she is. The Crêpe Queen!" Atlas declared as soon as we moved into the living room, beaming over at me, light, carefree. I'd forced Rush to drop him off some extra crêpes when I'd made Rush his entire smorgasbord of them.

He'd paid me back by making a drawing of a six-hundred-pound him, surrounded by piles of empty plates.

Apparently, landscapes weren't his only forte.

I kept the picture, mostly because Rush wanted to take it and get it shrunk down to fit on a birthday card to give back to him next year.

I didn't pretend to understand brotherly love, but it seemed to have a lot to do with teasing the hell out of one another.

"Hey!" a voice called, coming into the room with multi-colored hair and tattoos. "How's the vibrator?" she asked, making Rush glance over at me, brows raised, as Atlas tried to stifle a laugh with a cough.

"I, uhm, what?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Fee. She gave you the vibe, right? That's a good one. I mean it has nothing on the little butterfly one you can wear hands-free, but it's good."

"I, ah, I haven't tried it," I told her, feeling my face heat up.

"Oh, that's right. You're in the 'oh your dick is as good as any battery-operated device' stage still, right?" she asked, whacking Rush on the arm.

"This is Peyton, in case that wasn't infinitely clear already," Rush introduced the woman whose reputation preceded her. "Peyton, Katie."

"Yep. And she's ours now," Peyton said, reaching out to grab my free arm, pulling me away from Rush. "Go on. The guys are checking out Charlie's new TV."

With that, I was pulled along with Peyton as Rush shot me an apologetic look.

He'd warned me they would take me. It sounded downright cult-ish when he'd first said it. The reality was, I was pulled through to the kitchen where all the women were gathered around. Some stood at the oversize island, breaking green beans or slicing up broccoli. Others were sitting at the table, making desserts, sugar and flour all over the table, the floor, and themselves.

Others still were in front of the stove, stirring and checking inside.

"Kate!" Fiona greeted, waving a piece of lettuce on me. "They're letting me help," she declared. "I'm considering screwing it up, so I can continue my long streak of doing nothing but providing colorful commentary. Guys, this is Kate," she said, pulling me toward her side and away from Peyton who barely seemed to notice as she went to pour herself a glass of wine.

"And Kate, this is," she started, sucking in a deep breath. "Peyton, Autumn, Savvy, Lea, Scotti, Jamie, Dusty, and, of course, Helen. Oh, and my minions over there. Becca, Izzy, and Mayla. That's a lot of names. No one expects you to remember everyone—"

"I think I know of everyone but Jamie," I admitted, looking over at the woman with the short hair, wearing