Page 50 of My Casanova

I leaned forward, my curiosity piqued. “Um, what is going on? I would like to know from you guys what is going on.” Any insight I could get about what Smoke was thinking would be great. I knew what he had said to me, but I was twisting it all in my head and second-guessing every word.

Yarder shook his head. “I’m not going to get in the middle of this.”

“I will,” Poppy grinned mischievously. She leaned toward me. “The whole club thinks the show is so annoying.”

“We have never said ‘so annoying,’” Yarder interjected.

Poppy waved him off. “No one likes the show. Smoke thinks he is saving you from it or something.”

I glanced at the camera crew. “I mean, it doesn’t seem that bad.”

Poppy smacked Yarder on the shoulder. “I say the same thing. It isn’t that bad. Sure, it’s a little annoying when you’re trying to have a private conversation, but just go in your room or to church if you don’t want the cameras around.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just send a message to Boone and Gibbs to try to only kill us when we’re in our bedrooms or church,” Yarder muttered and shook his head.

I froze. Boone and Gibbs? Those names sounded... familiar. Politician familiar. The only Boone I knew of was the US Attorney General. If that was who was messing with the Iron Fiends, that was serious as hell.

“You know what I mean,” Poppy said and waved off Yarder’s annoyed look. “And besides, it’s almost over. I hear Mac say they’re getting a lot of footage. Hopefully, they’ll be done sooner.”

“That would be a fucking miracle,” Yarder muttered under his breath.

Poppy turned her attention back to me. “What I’m trying to say is the guys are dramatic when it comes to the cameras.”

I glanced at Yarder with a smirk. “Dramatic, huh?”

Yarder pushed off the counter and was clearly done with the conversation. “Okay,” he called to the rest of the crew. “Let’s wrap this shit up.”

“Oops,” Poppy laughed. “I might have pissed off the prez.”

Yarder narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh, you sure as shit did.”

She stepped closer to him, her voice dropping suggestively. “Will I be punished later? In our bedroom?”

Good lord. The sexual tension between those two was enough to make me blush.

Stan, oblivious to the flirting, pulled out the wedge of Stilton. “Ten more minutes, Yardman. I’m about to get the Stilton out. Johnny Depp says he’s not afraid of the funk.”

“Oh god,” I groaned. “You’re going to stink up the whole shop, Stan. You know my rule with the Stilton.”

Stan held up the pungent cheese with pride. “Five seconds, I promise.”

I clamped a hand over my nose. “This is going to be horrible. We’re all going to smell feet for the next two days.”

Stan quickly unwrapped the cheese, slicing off a small wedge with the precision of a surgeon, then rewrapped it just as fast.

“Holy shit,” Fade called from the door, as his face twisted in disgust.

“Whoa,” Adalee gasped and fled the cheese case to take refuge next to Fade.

Pirate, of all people, leaned in and inhaled deeply. “That smells kinda good.”

“Good?!” Fallon exclaimed. “That smells like dead feet smothered in mold. Are you insane?”

Stan grinned like a mad scientist and handed Pirate the tiny wedge. “Try that.”

Pirate popped it into his mouth without hesitation, and chewed thoughtfully.

Stan hustled to grab a bottle of port wine and uncorked it as he walked back. “Here, swirl this around before you swallow.”

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