Page 8 of Turkey Trouble

“Could be.” I hear the ruffle of his shirt as he shrugs. “Call him.”

“I tried, but it went to voicemail.”

“Hmm. Careful, baby,” he murmurs to Mia. “If you keep eating that from the bowl, you’re gonna have a tummy ache.”

“But it’s so yummy, Daddy! I want it!”

“I could try to call him,” he rumbles, bringing his focus back to me. “Gimme a sec. I’ll get you back again?—”

The locks at the front of our apartment disengage. The snick-snick-snick is like a warm blanket draped over frayed nerves, soothing my heart and bringing a goofy smile to my lips. “He’s here.” I exhale the words and push off the bed. I’m supposed to stay here. Pose for him. Something about my legs and dinner and being sexy. But relief makes it hard to stay put, so I grab one of his hoodies instead, swapping the shawl for something far more comfortable. “Sorry for bothering you, Fletch.”

“No problem. He was probably stopping by the bar to get booze for your night of sin. Careful, Mia! That’s hot.”

“I’ll let you go.” I feel foolish now. Overwhelmed and stupid with how I overreacted. “Thanks for taking my call.”

“Anytime. Always.”

I hang up and drop my phone to the bed, and though I know he wanted me in here, mostly naked and panting, I snag a pair of yoga pants and kick my heels off. “I’m coming!” I call out, lobbing one heel across the room and stabbing my leg into the pants, then I repeat on the other side. “I know it’s only been twenty minutes, but I got worried. So all that foreplay and teasing you did today was kinda wasted.” I finish dressing and stumble into the hall. “I was ready to touch myself, but it was ruined when you took so long to get home. That doesn’t mean I’m mad at you,” I explain. Iover-explainbecause I’m nervous and weird. “But it provides context for why I?—”

I skid to a stop at the end of the hall and stare into Felix Malone’s taunting, hungry eyes. Then I look left to Christabelle, whose cheeks fire red and her hands come up to cover her eyes.

“What was that stuff you were saying about touching yourself?” Felix sets an entire fucking turkey on the counter, chuckling as Micah steps through the door with Tiia wrapped up by his side. “I wanna know more.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snap the words out. I practically shout them, so if Archer is, actually, next door procuring booze, he better move his ass or risk losing two of his brothers to a double homicide. “Felix! This isourtime.”

“I know. You mentioned the foreplay and self-satisfaction.” He nods for a horrified Tiia to set her bowl of…something, on the counter. “Dinner has arrived.”

“Felix!”

“Archer said we could. He didn’t mention it, Doctor Cutie?”

“He didn’t,” Christabelle groans. “In fact, Archer saidfuck noand to go away. But Felix is… well…”

“He’s Felix,” I snarl. Breaking away from the mouth of the hall, I storm across my tiny apartment and shoulder check the mafioso boss as I pass. Then I snatch up the turkey, almost lobbing it too far to the left and dropping the whole thing. I manage to hold on to it, only so I can spin and slam it into his gut. “Go away. Go back to New York, and if you have a spare moment, shoot yourself in the belly and call a different doctor.”

The apartment door opens again, my heart soaring and my emotions yearning for Archer to save me. Only, it’s not him who enters.

“Mayor Lawrence?” The whole world circles and shrinks around me. My brain screaming and my face flaming with humiliation. I’m wearing lingerie! I’m wearing damn near nothing, and above that, sweatpants! “What on earth are you—” I choke on my words when not only Lawrence enters, his hand wrapped around his wife’s, but then his daughters, Tabby and Jen, follow. Then their husbands. Brandan and Colby…probably. I don’t remember their names! My heart spills over when Sophia freakin’ Solomon follows with a giddy grin, then Ellie. And thentheirhusbands. Jordan and Tony. Maybe.Jesus. Those are for sure not their names. But I already have too many to keep track of. “What the hell is going on?”

“Felix called and said dinner was at your apartment,” Lawrence answers seriously. His eyes narrow when Felix grits his teeth. While behind the mayor, Sophia swallows her own lips before she risks giggling. “Felix said?—”

“Felix is a liar!” I release the turkey, so the don has no choice but to hold it or let it fall to the floor. Then I snag the bowl Tiia put down, tearing the foil and revealing she brought potatoes. The yummy, creamy, delicious kind I know Mary made and sent across the country for me. “Felix is not a good person,Justin. His word can never be trusted. Andyou!” I stare over his shoulder and pin Soph with a look. “Youwould know that! So why are you here?”

“I’m so sorry.” She’s a skilled actress, stepping around the mayor all demure and shit and offering a hand. “We’ve met before, Doctor Mayet. That time at Mrs. Mayor’s birthday party. It’s so nice to see you again.”

“So nice, my ass.” I accept her hand and squeeze as hard as I can. Because fury beats in my blood and hurting her seems like a good plan right now. “Surely Felix didn’t call you, too?”

“No, Doctor. Mr. Malone called Justin with an express invitation that we have dinner here. Something about a changed mind and how you were too shy to verbalize your request. Of course we packed up our things and made the move.”

“You broughtbabies.” I stare down at the lumps of frilly-bottom fatsos the mayor’s daughter’s husbands carry. Frills! “I don’t accept babies in this apartment! They’re smelly and weird and I didnotinvite you all for Thanksgiving.”

“You’re being rude,” Felix sniggers. At least Micah, Tiia, and Christabelle have the decency to keep their mouths shut and their pleasure locked down. “I talked to Archer about fifteen minutes ago. He said we were welcome.”

“You’re a liar!” I point straight at Christabelle. “She already said that’s a lie.”

“Christabelle needs to learn how to present a united front.” He palms the turkey back off to the counter and drags his bride-to-be closer, smooshing her against his chest and pressing a kiss to her temple. “She’s still learning.”

“Go away!” I search the doorway, the door still open now that we have a whole friggin’ crowd filing in, and glimpse Cato in the back. “You agreed to stay at the bar!”

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