Page 10 of Rook

“Yeah.”

“Sucks, man. Thought you were up in your room. Heard the TV on.”

“We have a girl crashing there. I found out she’s sleeping in her car, so I offered her my room for the night.”

“A club girl?” Riff asked, scooping some of the leftover sausage pasta Detroit had made.

“Nah. I’ve never seen her before. She was at The Bog and decided to tag along. She offered to marry me.”

“Come again?” Riff asked, his gaze cutting to me.

“I told her of this asinine idea Colter had for me to get married, so there was someone to check on my mom. She offered to marry me and do it.”

“Why?”

“The whole living in her car thing, it seems.”

“It’s not the craziest idea I’ve ever heard. If it could give you more direct access to your mom and her condition.”

“I can make someone else her power of attorney. One of you guys. Or the girls.”

“Nah, man,” Riff said, shaking his head as he stuck a bowl into the microwave.

“Why not?”

“Because Nancy could find out. And if she linked one of the girls to one of us, then she would link us to you. Then your ass is going back inside.”

Damn.

He was right.

“Besides, getting married might endear Nancy to you. Though you’d really have to sell it if you expect her to buy it. I’m not saying you should absolutely do it. Just saying it’s not as stupid a plan as it might seem at first blush.”

With that, he took his food back upstairs to his woman, leaving me with a lot to mull over.

The party grew wilder until, eventually, Colter, Raff, and Coach each took a girl upstairs.

The other three, not wanting to abandon their friends, curled up on the sectional in the living room.

“Don’t,” I whisper-yelled at Cat, snatching him off the back of the couch as he eyed the blonde who was out cold, her head resting on her two fists. “Why do you have to be such a dick, huh?” I asked him, depositing him on his tree stand, then rubbing behind his ears.

Once I was sure he wasn’t going to launch himself at them again, I carefully draped blankets on them, turned the music down, and considered going to see if one of the other bedrooms was empty so I could catch some sleep.

But it was right then that Detroit came walking in, still dressed for and sweaty from the gym.

His gaze swept over the girls, then me, a question etched between his brows.

“Is it morning already?” I asked.

“About six.”

“And you’ve already been to the gym?”

There was a morning person, and there was Detroit.

“From the looks of you, you haven’t been to bed.”

“Guilty. You cooking?” I asked as he made his way toward the kitchen.

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