I knew I was being ridiculous as I stomped angrily back into the kitchen, but my blood was boiling. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever made me so mad—well, short of Tracey, the Evil Stepmother From Hell, but she was a special kind of vile. Average, non-Satanic people simply didn’t have the ability to affect me emotionally the way Ramsey was currently affecting me.

Kitty and Juneau were rolling dough into balls and pretending to not have heard any of the preceding events as I stormed into the kitchen. They both slowly, warily, lowered their spoons and dough balls to the counter.

“Ummmm…what just happened, Izzy?” Kitty asked.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” I mumbled, doing my damnedest not to take my ire out on my best friends.

Juneau peered at me through narrowed eyes. “Izzy…” She slid closer to me, a ghost of a smirk dancing across her features. “Did you and Ramsey…?”

“No.” I kept my eyes on the cookie dough, but wasn’t really paying attention to what I was doing.

Juneau burst out laughing, and then immediately stifled it. “You did!”

Kitty looked at me more closely, then—specifically, at my mouth. “HOLY SHIT! You kissed him!”

“Did not.” Again, I knew I was being patently ridiculous—my lipstick was certainly smeared, and my lips were probably swollen. It had been a hell of a kiss.

Kitty stood in front of me and grabbed me by my arms. “Isadora Styles. It’s us. Don’t lie to us.” She wiped at the lower edge of my lower lip with her thumb. “Your lipstick is messed up, and your lips are swollen, and I’ve never seen you this flustered.”

My eyes snapped up to hers. “I’m not fucking flustered!”

She just arched her eyebrows. “Oh no? When was the last time you yelled at me like that?”

“I’m not yelling!” I yelled.

I looked down at my hands and realized I’d rolled enough dough into a ball to make a cookie nearly a foot across. In an annoyed sigh, I tore the ball in half and then in quarters, and then rolled the pieces into balls, and set them on the baking sheet. And then, out of sheer desperation to keep from screaming, I shoved the fourth quarter of raw cookie dough into my mouth.

“Sorry,” I said, around the mouthful of dough. “I’m being a bitch.” Although, it sounded more like: Saw-hee. I’m be-uh a bih.

Kitty covered a grin with her hand. “Izzy. Just…just talk to us.”

I finished chewing and swallowing, my head ducked down, trying to breathe slowly and calm my pulse. “He makes me furious. I become unreasonably angry for little or no reason at all.” I toss my ponytail behind my back. “I don’t even get it. All he has to do is—is look at me and my blood boils. He strings two words together and I go insane. It’s embarrassing.”

Juneau laughed as she resumed rolling cookie dough into balls. “Oh boy, do I understand that. Remington has the same effect on me. I’ve been dating him for a year, and he can still make me crazy like that.”

Kitty laughed too, taking the trays out of the oven as the timer beeped. “I think it’s a Badd thing: all Badd males have an innate capacity to make you unreasonably angry with a single look.” She set the hot trays on the counter and slid the prepared trays of cookies into the oven and reset the timer. “Bast, Bax, Brock, the twins, all of them can do that. Xavier not as much, or at least not in the same way. He has a bunch of odd little quirks that can be infuriating sometimes, though. And god knows Rome has the ability to make my head explode.”

“I hate it, though,” I said. “I’ve always prided myself on staying pretty even-keeled most of the time.”

Kitty and Juneau exchanged long, meaningful glances, and then both burst out in hysterical laughter. Kitty, gasping, bent over double, stumbled over to me, and wrapped me in a slow, tender hug that somehow managed to be gallingly condescending.

“Ohhhh honey,” she murmured. Yep, her voice was dripping with condescension. “You are the least even-keeled person I’ve ever met.”

I frowned at her, pushing her away. “I resent that, Katerina Maureen Quinn,” I snap.

She arched an eyebrow at me. “Ooh, the full name,” she said, faking a shiver of fear. She cupped my face and kissed my forehead. “Isadora, sweetheart, darling, my best friend. You are not even-keeled at all. You’re excitable, spastic, impulsive, and unpredictable. And that’s part of why we love you so much.”

“I—” I cut myself off, mouth flapping. “Okay, fine. But how often do I get truly angry at anyone?”

She rolled a shoulder. “You’re right—you don’t get actually, truly angry all that often.”

“That’s all I meant—I’m even-keeled in that I don’t get angry, and Ram just makes me so—fucking—angry. And I don’t like that.”

“It’s because you like him,” Juneau said.

“I do not. I hate him.”

“At this point?” Juneau grinned at me. “It’s basically the same thing.”

“That’s stupid,” I said. “Hating someone and liking them aren’t even remotely the same thing.”

She snorted. “Do you even remember eighth-grade crushes?”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, sure, but we’re not in eighth grade anymore. I’m thirty years old.”

“Doesn’t mean you’ve matured past that emotionally, though.”

I looked up from cookie prep and frowned. “You’re calling me an emotional eighth grader?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

I glared. “Well, screw you too.”

She laughed and gave me a side-hug as she scraped the last of the dough onto a spoon and rolled it, plopping it on the tray in a single huge cookie. “You know I love you, Izzy.”

I shoved her away, but it was mostly good-natured. “I love you too, but I’m not the emotional equivalent of an eighth grader. I’m fully emotionally mature, thank you very much.”

Juneau patted me on the head. “You’re also not very self-aware, it seems.”

I took the empty bowl and put it in the sink, washing it for something to do with my hands, and to calm my irritation. “You two are pissing me off.”

“Because you’re still mad at Ramsey for being so likable and so annoying.”

Kitty was using a spatula to scoop cooled cookies from the trays onto the platter. “Izz, I’m sorry, but she’s kind of right.”

“How am I lacking in self-awareness, then, if you’re both so fucking smart?”

Kitty set her spatula aside and leaned against the counter, munching on a cookie. “Hey, these are good!” she said, staring at the cookie in her hand with admiration. “Okay, for example—do you realize that you have never, ever dated a guy for more than a month since I’ve known you?”

I snorted. “Duh.”

“Furthermore, do you realize none of the guys I’ve ever seen you hookup with have ever been older than twenty-five, and that none of them have ever been successful at anything other than being pickup artists?”

“That’s not true!” I protested, but then I had to stop to think. “That’s not true…is it?”

Kitty shrugged. “I mean, there may have been the isolated one-night stand here and there, where the guy was like, twenty-eight or even thirty, but that would be the exception rather than the rule.”

“Hector was successful,” I said.

Juneau’s eye roll was venomously, searingly sarcastic. “Yeah…maybe at dealing dime bags of low-grade pot, and nearly getting you arrested for vagrancy and possession.”

“He also had a great cock and a really nice car.” I frowned again. “And you’ve both noticed this?”

Juneau nodded, taking a cookie herself. “I’ve noticed it. You tend to pick up hot, young sleazeballs.”

“Sleazeballs?” I demanded. “Really?”

Juneau nodded. “Yup. The douchier they are, the better.”

“You ever see Don Jon?” Kitty asked. “Joseph Gordon Levitt? That’s the kind of guy you specialize in.”

I glared at her. “Not true. Patently untrue.”

Kitty laughed, tucking her hands under her arms. “God, these are almost too good. I’m about to eat them all.” She pointed at me, then. “Your denial of this just proves my point about you not being self-aware.”

Juneau eyed me sidelong as she ate a second cookie. “What Ram said about the way you dress and why?” She held up a hand to forestall my protest. “While it was absolutely sexist and awful, it’s also kind of true.”

“You cannot be serious!” I snapped. “Please, please tell me you’re joking.”

Juneau sighed. “See?” She brushed crumbs off her hands. “You dress for attention. You like being admired. You’re built like a goddess and you know it, and you like flaunting it a little bit.”

“So now I’m an attention whore on top of being emotionally immature?” I was near tears, and tried desperately to hold it in. “Wow. Awesome. Thanks a lot for the support.”

I pushed away from the counter and headed for the door, snagging my purse off the floor where it sat near the front door.

“I’m out. I’ll see you later.”

Kitty and Juneau both followed me to the door, grabbing me and pulling me back inside before I could escape.

“Izzy, wait, wait—please wait,” Juneau said, wrapping me in a hug. “We love you. You have quirks and foibles just like the rest of us. You claimed you weren’t un-self-aware, and we were just pointing out that maybe that’s not entirely true.”

“We’re not calling you immature or an attention whore, Izzy,” Kitty said, hugging me from the other side. “You’re our best friend and we love you more than anything. We’re just trying to…help you be a little more self-aware, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe,” I murmured. “I hate it.”

“You do? Since when?” Juneau asked.

“Since Ramsey Badd started calling me that.”

Kitty laughed. “You like him.”

“I DO NOT LIKE RAMSEY BADD!” I shouted.

“YES YOU DO!” we heard Ram call from his bedroom.

I glared at my friends. “You guys suck.” Kitty and Juneau stifled their laughter, and that sent me over the edge—again. I knew I was being ridiculous and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. “I’m so fucking glad you guys find this so fucking hysterical. Fuck you both.”

And with that, I stormed out of the apartment, stomped down the stairs and out into the late evening of a Ketchikan summer. I was on foot, steaming with irrational anger, and upset with myself for being that way in the first place. That led to a pathetic cycle with me being even more mad at Ramsey, which fed into me being mad at myself for being mad at Ramsey…and so on, and so on.

GAH.

I was a hot mess and I didn’t really even know where I was going, just that I needed to move, needed to get away from Ramsey, and that apartment, and my friends who seemed to find the whole situation so bloody funny.

Somehow, I ended up standing outside of Badd Bar & Grill. I stared through the open doors at the late evening crowd milling inside, Sebastian and Zane both behind the bar mixing drinks and pouring shots and beers, chatting and grinning and teasing each other. Bax was leaning against the propped-open door, nose in his phone, the screen lighting up his face.

He glanced up and saw me. “Oh, hey, Izzy.” His smile was quick and friendly. “What brings you here?”

“I…don’t know, to be honest.”

He nodded, shoving his phone in his pocket. “A few of the girls are at the family booth,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the interior. “Go on in, get a drink, and relax. They’ll sort you out.”

“They’ll…sort me out?”

He chuckled. “Yep. You look…complicated, and trust me, no one is as good at uncomplicating shit as those ladies in there.”

I sighed. “I look complicated? Awesome.”

He held up his hands. “I’m just—”

I cut him off. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just in a really shitty, complicated mood.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Got anything to do with my cousin?”

The glare I gave him could have melted an iceberg. “No.”

He widened his eyes and he nodded warily. “Ohhhh-kay. Not related to Ramsey. Got it.”

Once more, I had to force myself to react rationally when I felt anything but. “I’m sorry, Bax. Like I said, it’s not you. Ignore me. I’m gonna go get a drink.”

He just smirked. “Lucky for you, I’m immune to being offended. See ya ’round, Izzy.”

I entered the bar and wove my way through the crowd to the Badd Family Booth, which was the booth closest to the service bar and kitchen entrance. At some point recently, some enterprising member of this absurdly large extended family made an actual plaque and hung it on the wall over the booth, permanently reserving it exclusively for them and their friends or guests. Sitting in the booth were six women: Claire, Dru, Mara, Eva, Aerie, and Tate.

I honestly wasn’t sure which couples were married, which were engaged, and which were significant others. I didn’t know them all that well, but I did know that they had to be pretty amazing women to have captured the attention of Ketchikan’s legendary Badd brothers. Each of them was a true individual, and each had her own style, including the identical twins Aerie and Tate.

Each woman was so beautiful it was honestly annoying, and a little intimidating; what was even more intimidating to me was how close they all were. There were two more women in the family: Harlow Grace, international A-list movie star extraordinaire, whom I’d met a couple times at family get-togethers, and Joss, a quiet, serious, and somewhat mysterious young woman with long black dreadlocks and dark, exotic skin.

Harlow—whom the rest of the family simply referred to as Low—was with, in whatever capacity, Xavier, the hyper-intelligent youngest brother, and they balanced their time either in Harlow’s condo in LA, on her yacht cruising between LA and Ketchikan, or here in Ketchikan in their sprawling converted warehouse-slash-robotics laboratory.

The Badd brothers, along with their cousins and business partners, were an eclectic bunch, and each of them was talented in special ways. They were all generous to a fault, and they all had a wicked sense of humor. A conversation with one, or all of them was sure to be interesting.

Joss was with—again, in what capacity I wasn’t sure—Lucian, the quietest and most enigmatic of the Badd brothers clan…or, rather, the original Ketchikan Badd brothers clan, as opposed to the newcomer Badd brothers, the triplets. Joss and Lucian ran a bookstore/coffee shop two doors down, on the other side of the office and recording studio owned by the twins —both sets, because, confusingly, Aerie and Tate, identical twins, had married Canaan and Corin, also identical twins, and they had worked together to open a record label which was next door to the bar.

The eight women were all super close—not just friends and sisters-in-law, but best friends…they were actual sisters regardless of blood or legal connection. They had inside jokes and nicknames, and they borrowed each other’s clothing, and hung out with each other pretty much all the time.

I mean, I was close with Kitty and Juneau, but this group of women took closeness to a whole different level.

They saw me coming and Tate jumped up, snagged a chair from a nearby table, and set it at the head of their table. I sat down, and the women all greeted me.

Tate grinned at me. “Hi, Izzy. Welcome to the club.”

I laughed. “The club, huh?”

“When four or more of us are gathered in the name of Badd, it becomes the Badd Lovers Club.” Tate eyed me mischievously. “So, when I say welcome to the club, I hope I mean that literally.”

I groan, tilting my head back. “I’ve only had three glasses of wine, which is nowhere near enough to deal with an inquisition on that subject.”

Aerie reached out and patted my hand. “Well, I’m not sure I can stop the inquisition, but…” She uncorked a bottle of red wine that was sitting on the table and poured a healthy measure into a clean glass that was pushed down to me at the end of the table. “I can help with the sobriety situation.”

Eva, who was one of the most effortlessly elegant, kind, and soft-spoken women I’d ever met in my life, smiled at me. “We won’t inquisition you, Izzy.”

Claire snickered. “Speak for yourself, Evie. I’m totally going to inquisition the shit out of her.” She turned to me. “You have to know we’re like sharks smelling blood. You’ve only ever shown up here when you’re with Kitty, so if you’re here this late at night on your own there’s something going on. Izzy, there’s gossip, and I want it.”

The table erupted into laughter and then they quieted when I said, “I honestly don’t know why I ended up here.”

“There’s only one way to figure that out,” Claire said. “Tell us what’s going on.”

I sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“That means it must be Badd related,” Dru said. “You have the look of a woman just beginning to learn how infuriating, confusing, and arousing it is to deal with a man who has Badd blood in his veins.”

I didn’t want to admit that she was right, but I couldn’t lie, either. They’d see right through that.

“You hit the nail right on the head,” I said, finally. “Infuriating, confusing, and arousing. Mostly infuriating, though.”

“If the focus isn’t on ‘arousing,’” Claire said, with a leering smirk on her elfin features, “then that means you haven’t fucked him yet.”

“Not…not exactly,” I mumbled.

Mara, quiet so far, pounced on my response. “Not exactly, huh?” She arched an eyebrow, toying with the end of her long blonde braid. “Meaning, you’ve done something with him, up to but not including sexual intercourse?”

“Pretty much,” I said.

“…And?” Claire prompted.

I stared at her. “And what?”

“And start talking, bitch! Details! We need all the salacious, dirty, inappropriate details.” Claire wiggled her butt on the bench. “Come on, girl! Spill!”

I sighed. Normally, I’d be all for spilling the details, in filthy, graphic detail. For some reason, I just wasn’t feeling it, this time. “Okay, look—it was over a year ago, and it was just a quick…thing. One time only, and a mistake.”

All six women just stared at me.

Tate, sitting closest to me, had her cell phone out, and was watching her own twins sleep on a monitor app; her babies were two and a half, identical twin boys named Liam and Richard. She glanced up at me from the monitor, a knowing smirk on her face.

“One time only and a mistake,” she echoed, and patted my hand. “Keep telling yourself that, Izzy.”

Her sister, Aerie, gave me an eerily identical smirk. “I know I don’t know you very well, Izzy, but you don’t seem like the type to think a random hookup, or whatever it was, was a mistake, nor do you seem like the type to be reticent to share details.”

I toyed with my hair. “You’re right—I’m not usually like this.” Might as well go for broke—if anyone has experience dealing with the maddening bullshit of a Badd, it was these six women. “The truth is, Ramsey just…” I trailed off, shaking my head.

“Can make you spitting mad so fast it’s silly?” Dru suggested.

“Flips between being an asshole and absurdly charming so fast you get dizzy?” Mara added.

“Turns you on so fast you’re worried your ovaries might explode?” Claire said.

“Confuses you more than any human being alive?” Eva said.

“Makes you want to stab either him or yourself in the eyeball?” Tate added.

“Makes you want to either fuck him, shoot him, or get thee to a nunnery?” Aerie asked.

I couldn’t help a laugh. “Yes to all of the above.” I rubbed my face with both hands. “It’s like you know.”

The six of them exchanged a barrage of glances, and then spoke in unison: “Oh, we know.” And then they all burst out laughing.

“Honeybuns,” Claire said, “the truth is that having one of those men in your life is kind of like bungee jumping. It’s terrifying, kind of stupid, exhilarating, and absolutely incredible all at the same time.”

“Ooh, I have a great analogy,” Mara said. “Being with a Badd is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. You never know what’s going to happen, but you know it’s going to be equal parts crazy and amazing.”

“But I don’t want him in my life!” I whined. “He’s obnoxious, arrogant, maddening, and stupid, and I hate him.”

“Ahhhh,” Tate said knowingly. “You’re still at that phase.”

“Which phase would that be?” I asked.

“The phase where you’re in denial about how you feel,” Aerie answered.

“It’s like the stages of grief,” Mara said. “Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.”

Dru cackled while laughing. “Oh my god, Mara! That’s it exactly!”

“Except on a daily basis.” Eva said, joining the laughter.

“Or on an hourly basis, depending on his mood,” Claire said.

I shook my head. “If you’re trying to sell me on being with a Badd, you’re not doing a very good job. It sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” all six said at once.

“But so worth it,” Dru said, a tender smile on her face as she watched Sebastian work behind the bar.

“It’s a lot of things,” Eva said, her own eyes on Bax. “But it’s never, ever boring.”

“I’m just…I’m not there. He makes me too crazy, and I’ve had enough of crazy in my life,” I said.

Claire, whom I felt was a kindred spirit, poured me more wine—I hadn’t even realized I’d finished my glass. “Izzy, you want to know the truth?”

I nodded. “Always.”

“You and Ramsey?” Her pause and her smile were sympathetic. “It’s inevitable. He’s got his hooks in you. You can fight it all you want, but you’re gonna end up in his bed and in his arms, and your stupid, brittle, callous little heart is gonna be his.”

I was tempted to throw the wine in her face just to make her shut up. I didn’t, because I refused to waste perfectly good wine, but the temptation was there.

“Shut up,” I whispered. “You don’t know that.”

She just laughed. “Honeybuns, I do. You and I?” She gestured to me, and then at herself with a well-manicured index finger. “We’re basically the same person. I could probably guess the basic history of your life story.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Oh, this I have to hear.”

She put her index and middle fingers to her temples, furrowing her brow in faux concentration as if focusing her third eye on me. “I see…an only child, or one sibling at the most. You probably grew up either wealthy or upper middle class. Life was great, tra-la-la-la-la—BAM, shit happens, trauma ensues. What, I don’t know—could be anything. Just trauma of some kind that totally wrecked your life and closed you off, heart, mind, and soul, to the whole world. You trust no one, not really. Even your best friends probably don’t ever to get to see the real, secret, deep-down, ooey-gooey-rich-and-chewy center of who you really are.” She peeked at me, and then kept going. “You use men, you enjoy them for their bodies, you have fun, but that’s it. If you’ve ever had anything like a real relationship, it was short-lived, and you sabotaged it yourself. The thought of letting anyone—let alone a man—into your life in any kind of meaningful way makes you break out in hives, and you’ve probably never actually met a man who could tempt you with that prospect. But Ramsey does, which is why he can put a bug up your ass so easily.”

I had to remind myself to breathe. “You’re just describing yourself,” I muttered, hoping I sounded nonchalant.

Claire smirked at me. “Yep. But you can’t honestly tell me I’m not at least close to the mark on most of it.” She held up a finger. “Also, I described myself as I was when I met Brock, not as I am now.”

“And let me guess, you’re all better now, magically healed by the redemptive power of Brock’s mighty cock.”

Claire snickered. “I knew we were kindred spirits!” She smiled at me. “No, but his cock can work wonders. To be honest, it’s who he is and how he loves me that did the real healing.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. “Oh Jesus, please spare me the sappy Hallmark holiday movie bullshit.”

“I am the least sappy person you’ll ever meet, Izzy. I speak the truth.” Claire stabbed a finger at me. “You just don’t want to hear it.”

I blew out a breath. “No, I really don’t.”

“Exactly,” Mara said. “Stage one—denial.”

“I have to go,” I muttered. “I think I’ve had too much wine.”

“BAX!” Claire shouted, startling all of us.

A few seconds later, Bax ambled up to the booth. “You bellowed, milady?”

“Our dear miss Isadora Styles is a little toasted and requires a walk home,” Claire said.

“I’m not toasted, and I don’t need a walk home.”

“Yes, you are—” Aerie started.

“And, yes you do,” Tate finished.

I sighed. “God, you’re all so annoying.” I looked up at Bax, who was six-feet-plus and so heavily muscled he looked like he could bend I-beams with his bare hands. “Fine. But only if you promise not to so much as mention Ramsey to me.”

Bax gave a blank stare. “Who?”

“Exactly.” I stood up, and realized I was bit woozier than I’d thought. “Whoa.” I stared down at my empty glass. “How many of those did I drink?”

Claire shrugged. “I was wondering if you realized how fast you were drinking.”

I frowned. “I remember the first glass, and the second…”

“After that, I’m not sure your glass was ever empty,” Eva said, holding up an empty bottle. “That was mostly full when you got you here.”

“Holy shit. No wonder I’m so tipsy.” I glanced over at Bax, who was watching with amusement. “I guess I’ll be glad of the escort after all.”

“Sure you’re good to walk?” Bax asked. “I could run you over in the pickup.”

I shook my head, but carefully. “No, I think the walk will do me good.”

I waved at the table. “Bye, everyone. Thank you…I think.”

They all waved, and there was a chorus of goodbyes as Bax paused to kiss Eva—very, very thoroughly.

“Remember the five stages,” Mara called out, when he finally let go of Eva and led the way toward the exit. “You’re combining stages one and two, so bargaining is next.”

I laughed and waved over my shoulder as I walked away. We passed the bar, and Bax paused.

“Yo, Bast—toss me a bottle of sober juice,” he said.

Sebastian chuckled, ducking to grab a bottle of water from a cooler under the bar, and tossed it to Bax. “Walking her home?”

Bax nodded. “Yep. Back in a few.”

Sebastian nodded, shaking a mixed drink. “Sounds good. We’ll be fine.”

Once out of the white-noise din of the bar and into the silence and cool of the night, I felt much better, even as I realized that I was far more intoxicated than I had thought. I gestured in the correct direction, and headed that way, Bax walking beside me.

I only made it a few steps before I stumbled into Bax, who caught me and set me upright.

“Whoa there, darlin’,” Bax said, laughing. “Hitting you pretty hard, huh?”

“Don’t call me darling,” I snapped, steadying myself.

He just laughed again. “Aww, don’t take it personally. I call everyone that.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

He shrugged a massive shoulder. “All right, all right. Don’t get your—”

I whirled on him, intending to give him the evil eye, but the effect was ruined when I stumbled again. When I was steady on my feet once more, I resolved to walk carefully and slowly, with no sudden movements.

“Do not patronize me, Baxter Badd,” I said, eventually.

He was unfazed. “I’m not. Just how I am.”

“Telling me not to get my panties in a bunch is patronizing.”

“Actually, I was gonna say don’t get your knickers in a twist. It’s funnier.”

I huffed. “You’re not British—you’re not allowed to say ‘knickers’.”

“I can say whatever the fuck I bloody well like,” Bax said, in a decent—and funny—arch English accent.

“You’re hysterical.”

We walked in silence for about five minutes, and then I felt him working up to asking me a question. I shot him a look.

“Out with it,” I said.

“Did my girls get you sorted out?”

“They got me drunk, is what they got me.” I eyed him. “And…they’re all your girls?”

He nodded. “Yep. I mean, Eva is my girl, as in, like, my lady love or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, but the others are my girls too, in the sense that I feel a familial and protective sort of affection and love for them.”

I snorted a laugh. “Your lady love?”

He nodded unselfconsciously. “Yep. I mean, we’re not married or engaged, but we’re together for life so she’s a hell of a lot more than my girlfriend. Is there a word for that? Partner makes it sound like we’re gay together or something, so that’s out.”

I hummed in thought. “No, you’re right. I don’t think there’s a common colloquial term for long-term, unmarried, romantic life partners.”

“So…did they…get you sorted out?”

I groaned. “Bax, come on. Is this gonna turn into some kind of Dr. Phil moment for you, too? Why is everyone so interested in my life all of a sudden?”

“No reason,” Baxter said, a little too easily and quickly.

“Well, now there’s definitely a reason.”

He shrugged. “You won’t want to hear it.”

“Try me.”

“No, remember? You forbade me from talking about a certain someone as your condition for me walking you home.”

“Oh.” I sighed. “Ramsey.”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Why is everyone so interested in him and me getting together?”

Bax rolled his eyes at me. “Isn’t it kind of obvious?”

“No.”

“You’re single, he’s single, and something clearly happened with you and him a while back—at least, according to the family grapevine. But more than that, if you and Ram get together, it would, like, complete the family.” He watched me carefully as he said this. “And remember, you asked.”

“Wait, the family grapevine?” I asked.

“Well…yeah.”

“What’s that?”

“Kitty is the general manager of Badd Kitty Saloon, owned by Rome, Rem, and Ram, our cousins, and partially owned and managed by Bast, our oldest brother. Kitty is romantically engaged with Roman, the owner and manager of Badd Kitty—and Kitty is your best friend. Kitty is also good friends with pretty much all the ladies on my side of things—everyone you met today plus Low and Joss. She’s at Badd’s pretty much all the time, and the ladies are at Badd’s whenever they’re not at home or working, so they’re always chatting. Basically, whatever happens to anyone is circulated among the ladies, right? You’re a chick; you’ve got to know how that works. And then of course, the ladies will share the juiciest gossip with their respective dude, and then when us guys get together to drink, or get tats, or work out, or whatever, we talk about it.”

“Guys gossip?”

Bax laughed, nodding. “Ohhh, yeah, we do. Just as bad as chicks. We just do it while pushing plates, and we act like we don’t really care when you ladies talk about it.”

“Pushing plates?”

“Pumping iron,” Bax clarified. “Lifting. Working out.”

“Oh.” We reached my apartment building, and I fished my keys out of my purse, found the right key for the front door with only a minor amount of difficulty, and then paused as I entered the building, holding the door open with my foot. “I’m good now, thanks.”

Bax shook his head. “Job’s not done until you’re actually in your apartment,” he said. “A significant percentage of assaults happen in stairwells and elevators in your own building, or a building you’re familiar with.”

I blinked at him. “Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.” I thought about how many times I’d trotted up the stairs to our unit, alone, late at night, sometimes half in the bag. I thought about the sort of creepy older guy who lived alone two floors up, whom I sometimes passed on those same stairs. “Yeah, that’s a good point.”

He accompanied me into the building and pushed past me to head up the stairs first, and I didn’t miss the fact that he went up the stairs sort of twisted, so he could see ahead up the next flight. I did feel infinitely safer going up these stairs with a man like Baxter accompanying me. We reached my apartment, and I unlocked the door.

“You want to come in for a second?” I asked, out of habitual politeness.

He shook his head. “Nah. I gotta get back.” He jutted his chin at the apartment behind me. “Why don’t I take a look through your unit real quick, though?”

I hid a smile of amusement and amazement. “Ummm, not necessary, but thanks.”

He brushed past me anyway, striding into the hallway, poking his head into the bedrooms and bathroom, and then exited into the hallway again. “You’re clear.”

This time I didn’t hide my smile. “Thank you for the escort home, Baxter.”

He nods. “You’re in the circle, Izz. Means you get the Badd protection treatment.”

“Even if I don’t end up with your cousin?”

“Even if you don’t end up with my cousin.” He smirked at me. “The Dr. Phil in me says you will, though. You just don’t realize it yet.”

I sighed. “God, not you too.”

He shrugged. “Ram is a good dude, Izz. He hides it behind acting like a total douchebag most of the time, but deep down, he’s a good dude.”

I only just barely suppressed a snarl of irritation. “Good for him. I’m not interested in whether he’s a good dude or not. I’m not in the market for any dude, good or otherwise.”

“Not being in the market for a dude is usually when the dude finds you,” Bax said.

I did snarl, then, and it wasn’t a pleasant or ladylike sound. “Baxter.” I glared at him. “Enough.”

He held his hands out to placate me. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t say anything else.”

I rolled my eyes as he turned away. “Everyone has an opinion,” I grumbled.

“Yeah, well, opinions are like assholes…” he started.

“Everyone has one,” I finish. “I know. Thanks again.”

“You got it,” he said, pausing to shoot me a wink and a finger gun.

I grinned at his cheesiness. “And Bax?”

He paused again. “Yo.”

“You’re a good dude, too. I wasn’t sure I’d feel comfortable walking home with another woman’s boyfriend.”

“Well, I’m a thousand percent committed to Eva, and I look at all ya’ll as sisters, basically. So, as fine as you are, Izz, you can’t pull my attention away from my lady.”

I laughed. “Your lady. You’re so old-fashioned.”

“You know it!” He ambled for the stairwell, then, tossed a wave over his shoulder. “See ya ’round, Izz! And lock the door!”

I did as he said, locking the door as he walked away. I contemplated whether I wanted food, a bath, or Netflix, but in the end, I was just too tired and drunk for any of it.

I collapsed fully clothed in my bed, only barely managing to wiggle out of my bra and toe off my shoes.

I fell asleep wondering why everyone was so sure I’d end up with Ramsey, why they all thought it was so fucking inevitable. I didn’t even like the man. He was obnoxious, arrogant, and totally ridiculous, and just because I was crazily physically attracted to his stupid ass didn’t mean I was going to, like, suddenly fall head over heels in love with him.

You had to spend time with someone for that to happen, for one thing, and I had zero plans of letting that happen.