Gavin

“My, my, my. What a sparse little wedding party you have brought into my home this morning, Ashton. And where is this mysterious celebrity chef friend of yours?”

Betsy DuChamps sipped her mimosa, her face bright eyed and perfectly painted.

Gavin glanced over at Ashton, who shot him a look.

Ashton replied, “He rolled in late last night from a TV shoot in Seoul. He’s jet lagged AF. I gave him the day off.”

Betsy arched an eyebrow. “AF?”

Rosemary entered the room looking as fresh as a daisy. “It means ‘as fuck,’ mother. The chef is jet lagged as fuck. We excused him from the brunch.”

Betsy scoffed at her daughter’s rough language. “And what about your cousin, GiGi? And Chastity? Don’t tell me they’ve all caught the jet lag as well?”

Rosemary sighed as she plopped down in her dining chair next to Ash. “No, Mama. I believe what they all caught is a raging party last night and they ain’t coming to your ill-timed brunchy-brunch.”

Betsy now raised both eyebrows at her daughter. “Is that so? Well, in my day, when one is invited to participate in activities surrounding a family wedding in which a person is directly involved, one makes a point to—”

Rosemary grunted through a mouthful of breakfast ham and eggs. “Mama! Nobody wants a lesson in wedding etiquette. We’re all quite hungover. Those of us that are feeling human enough to be in this room under your god-awfully bright chandeliers would just like to eat in silence, OK?”

Gavin downed his glass of water from the crystal goblet in front of him, wondering what kind of a nightmare future mother-in-law would plan a wedding party brunch the morning after a bachelor/bachelorette party.

If Chastity’s own mother was anything like this woman, he was in for a rough road ahead.

At least he felt a little less hungover with a belly full of food.

“You must be the tattoo artist I’ve heard so much about. Ashton sure does have some colorful friends, I must say.”

“Mama…”

Gavin looked up and met Betsy’s eye. “Yes, ma’am. I own my own business. Howlin’ G’s Tattoos & Junk on Freret. Come in anytime, I won’t even charge you. Much.”

Rosemary snorted. Ash had to stare straight down at his plate to keep from making eye contact with Gavin.

Betsy did not seem to register what he had said and instead pointed to the wrinkled brown bag and mug of coffee next to his plate.

“Not every day a man brings his own food when invited to a meal at the DuChamps estate,” she purred.

Gavin nodded. “I know this looks strange, but it’s for a girl. A woman. I, uh, heard she liked this particular kind of coffee. Ash asked me to pick it up for her.”

“And who might that be?” Betsy asked.

Rosemary, always one to cut through the crap, replied. “Come on, people. It’s Chastity. He’s looking for Chastity. She’s in the guest wing, sleeping it off.”

Betsy sighed in relief. “Well, thank god for that. Her mother and daddy were not very enthused about her attending a bachelorette party last night. I gave them my word that she would be safe with us and that you all were just going out dancing for a little while with the girls. Chastity would have her usual room, of course, the one that automatically locks from the outside. She’s a devil child, that one. Can’t have her sneaking out without her older cousins to watch over her. Gavin, you may leave the coffee and that brown sack of whatever here with Lety. She’ll see that it gets to our niece.”

Rosemary snorted again. “That’s right. Dancing. With girls. 100 percent with the girls. All night. Dancing so lively she’s still plumb tuckered out since I brought her home ’round midnight. Right, fellas?”

Gavin was glancing between Betsy and Rosemary, trying to pick up on whatever it was that was being communicated. Then Rosemary caught his eye and mouthed, “Guest wing.” Then her eyes darted to his left.

Gavin wasn’t the brightest of men, but this, he understood.

He stood up and excused himself. “Ma’am. Thank you for the brunch. It’s been a pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

Gavin did not give himself time to wait for a response from Rosemary’s mom, but instead picked up the bag of pastries and the mug of coffee and made his way as quickly as possible to the guest wing of the mansion.

Out in the hallway, he found her scent again and followed it to a long, ornate hallway with a series of doors. Lucky for him, all the doors were open except one. He scanned the area. No one was around. He knocked on the door as his heart nearly busted out of his chest in anticipation. He was going to meet her, finally. Again.

There was no answer. He tried the knob, but the door was locked.

The key. Of course.

With shaking hands, Gavin took out the mysterious key from his wallet. She had, at some point, given this to him so he could come and spring her from her gilded prison.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside.

There she was, sound asleep on a bed three times the size of his paltry little twin bed. He had found her.

After making sure the door locked behind him, Gavin set the bag of beignets and the mug of coffee down on the night table. And then he just watched her sleep.

Her dark hair was splayed out over the pillow as she slept on her side. A satin sheet was draped over the curve of her hip. Her breast was nearly spilling out of the top of her dress. The little hint of sequins that he saw triggered another memory, this time of her dancing on the bar. He smiled. His girl was a fun girl, but if she ever did that again, the wolf would be carrying her home over his shoulder, caveman-style. Nobody else was ever going to try to have a good time with his drunk-ass girl as long as he had something to say about it.

Even after a night of partying like it was 1999, this girl looked like an angel. He wanted desperately to touch her, but he did not dare do that to her while she was passed out or asleep.

He watched her for several minutes, until she started to stir awake. Bleary-eyed and unaware of his presence, Chastity rolled over and instinctively grabbed her phone. She muttered to herself, “Any more texts from the mystery man?”