Page 49 of Collect the Pieces

“I missed ya!” Shelby throws herself at the woman and they embrace like long-lost twins who’d been separated at birth. I’m so focused on them, it takes a second to notice the man close behind Hope.Rock.The president. The man, according to Jigsaw, who probably decides how the brothers get punished for their bad behavior.

“Relax,” Jigsaw whispers in my ear. He reaches down and pries my hand off the hem of my shirt and curls his fingers around mine.

How does he know?

Hope turns toward us and flashes a smile so warm and welcoming, I’m finally able to take a breath.

Stay present. Don’t retreat into yourself. I organize entire funerals. Why is this stressing me out so much?

“Hi, Margot. I’m so happy you could join us.” Her arms hang awkwardly at her sides as if she wants to embrace me the way she did Shelby, but hasn’t decided if I’m a hugger, yet.

“Yes, thank you. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” I work my mouth into a smile and pray it doesn’t look as uncomfortable as it feels.

Forget my palms. With all this attention focused on me, I think my butt is sweating now.

Jigsaw

Margot presses tight to my hip, like she’s trying to crawl inside me and hide. She deals with people all the time—counsels families, talks to vendors on the phone, consults with religious leaders and who knows what else. At the car show, she talked to lots of people.Why so shy here?

“What’s wrong?” I whisper in her ear once Hope has moved on to talking to Trinity.

Her lips tremble into a smile. “I want your friends to like me and not think I’m weird.”

The way she automatically turns to me for safety satisfies some caveman need I didn’t even know I had. Who am I kidding? The urge to protect her showed up the day we met and never left. I fight off the urge to kiss her.

Tonight isn’t a business transaction or a passing hobby. Meeting my family is important to her. Making a good impression matters.That’sthe difference.

I wrap both arms around her, turning her to face me, and pull her close. “If you’re weird,” I say in a low tone, “it’s the good kind and everyone accepts that here.”

She lets out a nervous laugh.

“Margot.” I dip lower, pressing my forehead against hers. “My brothers and I all ride two-wheeled death machines and wear matching outfits. That’s a little weird, right?”

She giggles harder. “I guess.”

Much better.

“Are you planning to swallow her whole?” Rooster slaps my arm. “Let the woman breathe.”

I shoot a glare at him, and he backs off. His gaze darts between Margot and me, his brow furrowing slightly. The big dope must figure out that Margot’s nervous. “I hope you’reprepared for Murphy’s chili. My eyes were actually watering when we went in the kitchen.”

“I like spicy food,” Margot says.

“You’re in luck, then.” Shelby crosses her arms in front of her like a shield. “I gotta stay far, far away from it.”

“Jigsaw said you’re allergic to tomatoes.” Margot’s tone is so solemn, I’m worried she’s having a flashback to a client who died of a tomato allergy or something.

Shelby must be having a similar thought. She tilts her head and squeezes Margot’s shoulder. “Sure am. Best thing about not being dead broke now is carrying a couple epi-pens with me wherever I go.”

Margot sighs. “That’s good.”

“I was gonna tell Murphy that real, traditional chili doesn’t even have tomatoes in it—it’s called chili for a reason—but I didn’t wanna bethatperson.” Shelby titters with laughter. “And I don’t even like it that way. Unless it’s over a Frito pie, it’s basically a big ol’ bowl of braised meat on its own.”

“I thought the big disagreement was whether beans belong in chili or not?” Jigsaw says.

“True, in Texas it doesn’t have beans,” Shelby explains. “But not everyone has the luxury of being able to hunt oraffordall that meat, especially if you got a big family to feed. Beans stretch it out, ya know?” She waves her hand in the air dismissively. “I never liked the beans or not argument. Seems classist to me.”

“I never knew you had all these opinions on meat and beans,” I tease.

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