Bay

I shuffle along as mama yells out for Luanne to come help her in the kitchen and avoid getting dragged into that hell hole by singing a Mel B song that mama loves in an off-key drone that makes her wince.

“Can I help?”

“Er, no! No, no, that’s, um, fine honey. Me and Luanne got it all under control,” mama assures me as she shoos me outside into the backyard where Mitch is yelling at his eight kids to shut the hell up and stop harassing him to swim with them.

I once asked him why he doesn’t swim with his kids if none of them ever learned-officially–and he tongue-in-cheek hinted that they needed to learn the Brogan way.

His wife hollered that eight kids were eight too many and accidents happen. I don’t know if she was being serious or not but from the look of those kids, maybe not.

I’m dodging kids left and right when little Anna-May stops right in front of me, her blue Brogan eyes looking all serious and intent while her two missing front teeth make the picture look adorable.

Anna is a brunette with a serious disposition unless she’s swimming like now, then she’s just a hellion.

“Hey Bay! My daddy said you’re dead inside! Is that true?” she asks, making everyone pause what they’re doing and stare our way.

I’d be so insulted but come on, how is this not fun?

“Your daddy is completely correct, Anna, but he forgot to tell you that at night I turn into a witch who eats naughty little kids and steal their tooth fairy money,” I say ominously, smiling darkly when her eyes widen. She lets off a piercing scream and runs for the pool where the rest of her baboon troop is stationed.

The adults chuckle, some with a touch of fear as I pass and I’m fighting a smug smile when I sidle up to Dee and grab a piece of pork chop right out of her mouth.

“Hey!”

“This is for not sharing any of that chocolate frosting the other day. Where’s Kim?”

“She’s puking, and Sully is holding her hair and his balls because you know Kim, she did not sign up to suffer alone.”

I snort, chewing on the bone like it holds life–and it really does, everyone knows that’s where the flavor is–while I scan the yard for the other cretins.

I see Jack hustling after Essie who’s trying to outrun her, but being as she’s much more heavily pregnant, Jack catches her and starts in on her about the way Bull keeps biting his brothers.

Like poor Essie has a say in the matter. She’d wake up with a missing ear if she ever reprimanded that kid.

Cord’s laughing with Ky about Jack’s stamping foot, and I think I see Jimbo sneaking a moonshine jar out from under his seat.

It’s only after I search through at least half of the family that my eyes find Jones where he’s leaning against the fence with a beer and talking to Skeeter. Hell knows what an architect and a hillbilly have to say to one another but I ain’t judging. Once upon a time my daddy used to be normal and sane, and just look at all the love between him and mama.

It takes all sorts to like the animals.

“He’s talking to Skeeter about what Jimbo and Luanne want for the house they’re planning. At last count, she wanted eight bedrooms and eight bathrooms, because you know she wants at least one to herself so she don’t have to smell Jimbo’s poison gasses, and a wrap-around porch that has a slide into the pool.”

I grunt, shaking my head and picture a log cabin like mama and daddy’s only bigger, uglier, and a whole lot more hillbilly.

“She looking for more ‘cellar’ space too?” I ask, snorting when Dee rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, well Jimbo’s gotta hide the moonshine somewhere, and according to Luanne it’s safer under the house where the water heaters are.”

I almost laugh at that when Dee giggles and throws her hands up.

“It’s like she doesn’t know that shit is seventy percent alcohol and flammable as hell. All I can see when I think about it is them and their house shooting into outer space.”

“Where Luanne and Jimbo would finally shake hands with their own race.”

“Oh my God! Did you just make a joke that wasn’t even a little bit about murder?” Dee breathes, clapping her hands excitedly. “Milestone moment, Bayou!”

I roll my eyes and look back over at Jones and feel my heart start pounding as nerves hit me. I am never nervous. Not even the year mama made me wear my toe correctors with flip flops for an entire school semester made me this nervous.

That was brutal, but I learned to beat people up really well that year and I guess it’s served me since. What I wouldn’t give for that to be the case right now instead of having to walk up to Jones and ask him out.

It’s not so much that I think he’ll turn me down in front of everyone, not that I would care much, okay maybe a little, it’s that he’ll probably say yes and then people will really think I’m dying.

I wonder if they’d brave my wrath to visit me in the hospital…

“What’s got you so tied up?”

“I am not tied up.”

“Hell yeah, you are,” she says, pulling me down to sit at the picnic table where we have pasta salads and bread already laid out.

I grab a bowl and shovel some salad into it, choosing to eat if I’m going to have to talk. Jesus, I hate talking. People always want to know more and more and then the mystique is gone.

Dee might actually realize I would never kill her in her sleep, I’d just wait for daylight so everyone can see me do it. And then she wouldn’t be half as scared because Dee is the best fighter in the family hands down.

I think the only person who’s ever beat her in a fight was Kim and that’s because Kim bites. Anywhere. I dare you to take her buck teeth to the crotch and still win.

“Bay. Talk to me, or I’m calling Jack and then she’ll call Kim and we’ll all grill you,” she warns around a particularly visible mouthful of noodles.

Ick.

“Daddy called in that favor he’s been holding the last three years,” I admit, despising myself for ever giving him one.

If there is one con artist in this family it’s daddy and his Irish blood and trust me, no one ever lets themselves owe him a favor. Uncle Flea is still trying to recover from having daddy send him to live with Jimbo for a week to help him fix his truck.

I don’t think anyone but Luanne and those weird kids of theirs could ever live with Jimbo that long. For instance, right now, I’ve heard him fart at least three times, and the children have scattered hard and fast from the smell.

FYI, they weren’t even near him.

“Oh no, Bay. What does he want? A liver? Kidney? One of your lungs?” she breathes, making me sigh out a laugh.

“He wants me to ask Jones out,” I mumble making her squeal and clap her hands together.

“Why, that’s an easy one Bay. I was expecting at least an eyeball. That man holds his favors like freaking gold.”

“Yeah, well apparently it’s time for me to give Jones a chance and daddy’s calling it. I’m so screwed. It’s that or streak for Flea and you know I’d rather die. Painfully.”

She giggles and shivers at the same time.

“It’s so traumatizing. Poor Flea still doesn’t sleep well after Luanne lost her favor to mama. I think it’s on account of her third nipple, but mama says it’s ‘cause Luanne hasn’t trimmed her bush since seventy-eight.”

That has me snorting and holding in a bubble of laughter.

I can well believe it since Essie keeps giving her waxing coupons for Christmas every year. And trust me those are not cheap, so you know Essie means it.

“That is disgusting.”

“Not as disgusting as Essie drugging her and going in there in a hazmat suit. Poor Luanne had lip rip for days. Even Jimbo felt so bad for her he gave her a jar of shine without making her pay for it.”

That is telling. Jimbo gives no one shine for free, not even his own wife. I personally suspect it’s ‘cause he loves her and wants her to keep living. That shit really will clean an engine.

“Okay, so you’ve got to ask Jefferson on a date. Bay, that is not a bad thing. The man has been in love with you since you kicked him in the balls in middle school.”

“And?”

“And he’s a good catch, and he is sweet, and from what you told me that night we went to Fred’s and got shitfaced, he’s good in bed. What more can you ask for?”

For starters that he doesn’t try to shove a ring on me right off the bat the morning after we sleep together, I think, shuddering at the memory of the ring box I found in his pocket.

It scared the bejesus outta me so bad I left before he woke up. I felt bad, okay, no one deserves that kind of treatment but come on, it was an emergency.

I’d have had to say no and that just isn’t me. I believe prevention is better than cure–as my whole life has proven–and I don’t set myself up for situations like that.

I do have feelings. I just don’t like them.

“Dee, me and Jones are like oil and water. The man is happy all the time and enjoys freaking socializing. Can you imagine me socializing with anyone he knows?” I ask, making her grimace.

“Well, no, but that doesn’t mean you can’t. Look, Bay, you’re hard to get along with, I know that, but you’re not some sort of anti-social loser. I’ve seen you at parties.”

I snort and grab a garlic roll, tearing it into tiny strips before savoring the intense flavor.

“I can’t exactly walk around drunk just to get along with Jones, Dee. We’d make each other miserable. He’s not exactly the stay at home type of guy, and I am not exactly the life of the party. I only go out because it’s better than sitting at home alone.”

“Liar, what about Ripper?” she asks, smiling when my eyes narrow.

“How do you know about Ripper?”

“Uh-uh, you are not getting me to start talking about other stuff when I just got you back onto talking about Jefferson. First of all, I broke into your house. I don’t care if that pisses you off, you taught me to pick locks.”

“Asshole.”

“I’ll take that as an endearment. Besides, Ripper is a pussycat, how can you exclude him from the family?” she asks, her lip pouting out.

“He’s a killer. Some idiot tried to break in a few weeks ago and he tore him a new asshole. I laughed the whole time the cops were there.”

Which creeped them out, even Zac who knows me.

Coincidentally before I even think of anything else I am still wondering what Sully and the boys did to Zac because the man is engaged to Sienna Bryce and they’re having a baby. I do believe Zac’s mama is having a conniption.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” she says loudly, looking way beyond put out while I smile silently because–Wham!

I just changed the subject.

“It wasn’t a big deal. It was probably just some kid trying to make his chops or whatever those gangster types call it. Ripper bit him in the ass before he made it fully into the house. It’s all good. Plus, you know I have LE and the gun daddy made me get. I shoot first and ask for ID later.”

Just like mama taught me. Daddy would have a heart attack if he knew I take more after mama in that department.

Dee shudders, and I raise a brow that has her shaking her head.

“I just can’t imagine you being alone when some maniac breaks into your house.”

Yeah, I wasn’t jazzed either because the truth is that I could have been hurt. I only woke up when I heard screaming and Ripper growling loudly. The barking that followed after was the final straw as was the broken window and the blood in the kitchen.

I have an alarm system now, or at least I got the alarm daddy installed connected, and I always set it.

“I wasn’t alone, Dee, and besides, I had the alarm set up and trust me, that thing goes off if a mouse farts.”

She snorts and takes a breath, pushing her food around in the bowl in a way that makes me tense. Dee never ignores food, especially not now with the baby cooking in her belly.

“You shouldn’t be alone anymore, Bay. It’s time you found someone to love, and I think Jefferson is just the man who can bring you out of that shell of yours. Daddy is right, you owe it to him to be the one to try this time. You owe it to yourself.”

I grunt, not liking the answer, but I have nothing to say that would argue the point. The truth is that Jones is a good catch. I just don’t think he’s a good catch for me. Or me for him.

I sigh, turning to look at where Jones is still talking to Skeeter and my eyes clash with his. He’s been watching me this whole time, I felt it, and I know that before the day is over he’ll have won.

It doesn’t feel like I’m losing though and that is not a comforting thought to acknowledge.

“I am so going to regret this.”

“Nope. Remember what daddy said…”

“We only regret the things we fail to do and learn from the things that fail,” I drone out, blowing out a harsh breath. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

I rise, ignoring her grin and smooth down the pale cream shirt I threw on over small jean shorts, my palms sweating as I look over at Jones and see him stand taller.

“Go get him, tiger.”

I grunt, walking away without bothering to answer and I hear her laughter all the way to Jones who is now ignoring Skeeter and outright tells him to fuck off when I reach him.

“Mighty nice way to talk to a friend.”

“Fuck off, Skeeter, or I’ll call Essie and tell her you’ve been smoking her pot stash.”

“Jesus, Bayou, your mama’s right, you are mean,” he mutters, scuttling away and leaving me alone with Jones.

“Well, hello there gorgeous.”

Dammit, I should not get all tingly just from a few flirtatious words. Unfortunately, I do and feel my skin shiver when he gives me a thorough head to toe glance, his eyes taking in my bare legs with a frown.

I would laugh, totally having already had daddy complaining about my shorts, but I’m freaking on the verge of running away like a coward I’m so on edge.

“I don’t like those shorts.”

“Yeah, I don’t like the way Kelly’s been staring at you like a dog eyes a meaty bone, and yet I haven’t once said anything about your tight shirt.”

He grins, seeming pleased by what he probably views as jealousy. I’d cut my own tongue out before admitting to that paltry emotion.

“I’m for your eyes only. Got it. I’ll show you anything you want, anytime,” he purrs in a way that makes my lady business pop and want to drop shit right now.

I refrain, keeping my baser, very urgent urges in check and look up to meet his eyes, my toe shuffling in the dirt as I try to breathe right, or at all really.

“So, uh, I’ve been thinking–”

“About killing me for painting your house because, Brady, you gotta understand I was being hurt by the color. You go inside and you don’t have to look at it all the time but–”

“Yeah, yeah, stalker Joe, I got it. You sit outside my house like a freak and watch the walls,” I snort, rolling my eyes when he doesn’t bother to flush or feel any real sort of shame. “Incidentally, my house is beige inside.”

That has him frowning and I just know he’s going to do something I won’t like. I should throat punch him right now to forestall anything he will do, but I find myself curious to see what Jones’s mind comes up with next.

“That’s terrible. How do you even get aroused while staring at that color?”

“I don’t screw at home. It’s my safe place.”

“So good to know. It makes me hot knowing you haven’t had a man in your bed,” he says, biting his lip when I lick mine and clear my throat.

Shit. I think I just had a mini O in my pants and all he did was look at me. Hell, I sure hope I get sex out of this date.

“Do you want to have dinner?” I rush out when he keeps staring as if he’s imagining eating me alive.

Jones goes completely still and looks around as if searching for something and then closes his mouth quite a few times as if he’s struggling with a reply.

“Uh, are you filming this, like one of those prank shows?” he asks, sounding dubious about the validity of my question.

I want to laugh, as I always do when he talks to me because the truth is the man is just funny and makes me happy, but I restrain the urge and glare instead, giving him the expressions I give no one else.

“No. Christ, I just asked you out on a date, Jones. Yes or no!” I bark, biting my lip when he blinks and falls all over himself, looking at me in a way that suggests I just gave him a blowjob and swallowed.

Hell, for that look alone I should swallow. Again and again. Hell. Dammit. I definitely need to get a vibrator if this is gonna continue.

“Yes! I mean, yeah, of course,” he says, swallowing when I smile and look away to avoid seeing the happiness there.

He’s acting as if this is the culmination of his every dream, so much so I feel like shit for taking him for granted. I grunt when guilt tries to invade my calm and orderly world and sigh in a beleaguered way that makes him grin.

“Calm down, Jones. It’s a date, not a goddamn marriage proposal which by the way, not happening so tell your dick to stand down.”

“Brady. God woman! I can’t…this is…what’s wrong? Is this a bet? Are you losing a bet or something? I–”

I stop his mad ramble by leaning over and smooshing his lips between my fingers, closing my eyes when I have to stop myself from kissing him.

“Have some self-respect man, I would never do that to you.”

“But–”

“I’d totally do it, don’t get me wrong, just not to you. So yeah? Date. Dinner. Maybe some sex after?” I ask hopefully, wanting to prepare myself for the eventuality that the virgin princess may hold out on me.

My sarcastic brow lift makes Jones grin, and I am so over his smug grin I go to turn and walk away.

“I’ll eat you out for an hour flat if you spend the night too.”

I stop, turn, consider, and narrow my eyes at him, knowing that he’s already sealed the deal but oh so ready to negotiate terms that will benefit me more.

“Deal. If you do that thing you did with your tongue last time and cook breakfast. I fucking kill people with my cooking.”

“Deal. But breakfast extends time. Noon.”

Shit. I’ve had the freaking omelets he makes the one morning when I went over to Jack and Cord’s and he was there. The man can cook, even better than Kim but don’t tell the bitch, she’d cut my tongue out if she ever knew I said that.

“Croissants too, and I’ll even wear one of your sweaty shirts.”

That makes Jones grin, and I walk away having to keep my face blank when in reality I want to laugh. Leave it to us to negotiate sex and the morning after.

I appreciate that he’s willing to do that for me, make me feel more in control when really all he had to do was promise to touch me and I’d have caved like a sand castle in high tide.