Page 9 of Patching Over

“Oh! Do spill,” I respond, nudging her and she smiles before continuing.

Bree, who turns out to be her stepmother, comes over with more water for me and adds to the tale.

After we chat, I slowly make my way over to talk to some of the others and next, Diesel’s Ol’ Lady. I’m ashamed to admit that I had been really intimidated by Colette, even as I’m happy to finally realize a very simple fact.

Walking into a crowd of people isn’t that awful, as long as I make the effort to get to know them one at a time. Exhausting, yes, but also kind of fun.

Timber

“So, this ugly son-of-a-bitch goes from being the dirtiest, up-for-anything dog to a fucking monk overnight.” Connal’s exuberant brand of storytelling has gained momentum with each beer he downs. Hell, we’re all half in the bag by now, I think. My eyes flickering over my brothers’ faces and those from Idaho—easily telling by their smile that they know this tale by heart. “We all thought he had cancer or something equally terminal.”

“Vice picked up his slack without any complaints,” one of the younger guys pipes up, shrugging his shoulder.

“You should talk, Royce,” another calls out. “You had to start a lottery system to satisfy all your groupies.”

“They merely showed me how wonderful Molly is.” His easy-going smile widens when his eyes fall on a woman on the other side of the bonfire. “And if a man among you didn’t know what that lightning bolt felt like, you’d be inside fucking, or trying to fuck, the muffler bunnies who came out for this.”

“Amen,” I conclude, raising my red plastic cup in salute.

For my part, I know exactly where Talia is. I’ve been keeping one eye on her all night, worried about her overdoing it.

“Hey,” Axel greets me, tilting a bottle of whiskey in my direction. I grab it and take a swig, enjoying the burn as it goes down. “Declan said our Ol’ Ladies’ new cuts will be here tomorrow.”

I snort, wondering about the delivery. “Don’t tell me, one of the nuns got a day pass from the orphanage to come drop them off?”

“Fuck off,” he says, reaching out to grab the bottle back. “Besides, a few of them could drink some of the zygotes inside under the table. Fuck, I’m not even thirty-five yet and the prospects look like they just got their training wheels off.”

“Yeah, aren’t they about your wife’s age?” I bite back with a chortle. Damn, I’m on a rolltonight! I snag the whiskey out of his hand as he chokes on his mouthful of whiskey.

“Now I sincerely mean it—Fuck off!” he slugs me in the shoulder as I take my turn with the bottle. “She’s mature for her age.”

I nod, respecting him enough to bite my tongue on the rest of my liquor-soaked smart-assery. “How’s Joey dealing with things?”

“She’s wound up tight, but that’s kind of how she processes all the bad crap. She’s had a few more cocktails than usual, and with this going on, I figure we’ll give it a few days, then take a little trip.” He’s slow to respond as he studies her where she’s sitting beside Talia. “Maybe dancing will help.”

“I’m not dancing with you,” I deadpan and hold tight to the bottle when he snorts and tries to take it back. Taking another shot before I relinquish it, I realize that I’ve never danced with Talia and tonight will be as good a time as any. “The Grizzlies seem like a decent bunch.”

“They are. Royce over there, he helped rescue Joey when she was taken. The second time, that is. Shade, and even Roy back when he was younger, are their version of Wolfman. I haven’t met many of the younger guys, but that kid, Hyde? Flint and Bree adopted him—so that tells me all I need to know about him.”

“The guy with the limp? He was telling me about the accident, fucking brutal.”

“Yeah, well, why don’t you hold on to this for me,” he says, pushing the bottle back into my hands. “Unless you changed your mind about that dance?”

“Fuck off.” I shoot his words back at him.

“You ain’t my type anyway.”

Shaking my head at his back, I watch him navigate his way over to Joey and good naturedly accept the comments from those around her as he drags her toward the clubhouse. When Talia’s eyes fall on me, I tilt my head to the side, inviting her to join me.

“How are you feeling?” I ask her when she’s close enough for me to see the glint in her eyes.

“Funny, I was going to ask you that very question,” she answers with a nod toward the bottle I’m holding.

“Ish nawt mine, Osicfer,” I mock-slur out the words.

“So, I have a question,” she says, ignoring my nonsense. “Where’s the debauchery? I thought this would be like an orgy.”

“Have you been to many orgies?” I ask, more than a little amused as I hip-check her. “And if you thought that, why did you bring your brothers?”

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