Page 2 of Snow in Texas

“Um…yeah.”

“Follow me.”

Two

Colin

All clubhouses must be the same in some respects, Colin figured. They passed a kitchen where a dark-haired woman was chopping something at a cutting board, and he glimpsed a hallway flanked with shut doors – the dorms, most like.

The hall they passed through eventually dead-ended at a door, and Fox rapped on it. “Candy,” he called through. “Your new prospect’s here.”

“’Kay,” someone called back from the other side, and the door opened a moment later.

By this point in his prospecting process, Colin had hearda lotabout the infamous Candyman, so his expectations were all over the place.

The man that filled the jambs was tall – Colin realized they were on eye level, and his own six-foot-four height wasn’t common. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a distinct air of fitness and coiled energy, but a face full of lines. A handsome man, he would grant him that, but a slightly weathered one, with a head full of blonde spikes and a smile that seemed to come easy.

“Well damn.” His voice was one-hundred-percent unfiltered Texas. “Look at ya. YouareSwamp Thing’s brother, I’ll give you that.” He folded his arms and braced one big shoulder against the doorframe. “What should we call you?” He cut a fast look at Fox. “Swamp Rat?”

Colin gave him his meanest smile. “Half-brother, actually.”

Candyman laughed, and even that was a Texan sound, if such a thing was possible. “A man could do a lot worse than be half-something to Felix Lécuyer.” He still grinned, but the expression didn’t touch his eyes; those were a flat, hard blue now. “Welp.” He gave Colin the same appraisal Fox had. “Bob says you need toughening up.”

“Bob says a lotta things.”

“True. Bob’s a talker. We all are – we’re Southern.” This was said with a meaningful eyebrow lift.You’re Southern, tooit reminded.Now act like it.

Candy clapped his hands together and stepped fully through the door, pulling it shut behind him. “Okay. You met everybody?”

“I met Fox.”

Candy threw an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders and earned…zero reaction. Not that Colin had expected to see one in Kingston Walsh’s brother. That family didn’t do reactions, apparently.

“Charlie Fox is the most dangerous man you’re ever gonna meet,” Candy proclaimed happily, gave the guy a squeeze and let go. He charged back down the hall, calling, “Let’s go, prospect,” over his shoulder.

Belatedly, Colin realized that was him, and hurried to follow. Fox gave him a look that suggested he wasn’t making a good impression, and he ignored it.

Candy leaned into the dorm hall as they passed and beat on the first door with one large fist. “Gringo, get out here, jackass, the new prospect’s here,” he called, and kept moving.

In the common room, the twins on the couch snapped to attention, sitting stiffly upright as Candy entered. Others had joined them: a grizzled old biker with a blue bandana and full gray beard. An iron-haired, stone-faced guy with huge biceps and aSgt. at Armspatch sewn to the front of his cut. Colin also spotted a scrawny, pimple-faced kid wearing a prospect cut – disappointment and embarrassment warred for supremacy in his gut to realize he was of the same social standing within the club as poor Pimple Face.

More members filtered in at the edges of the room, from doors Colin hadn’t seen before, their distinct faces getting lost in his sudden anxiety. It was so strange for him; he had always been the first with a smartass comment, the one with the grin for the girls and the insult for the guys. Everything felt off-center here, and he didn’t think it was because his ears still needed to pop post-bus-ride.

Candy moved to stand beside him and clapped a hand onto his shoulder that was more threatening than friendly. “Boys.” He had a voice made for a theater, loud and clear and warm around the edges with Texas charm. “I want y’all to say hello to our new prospect. This is Colin O’Donnell, and he’s Mercy’s brother.”

Fast murmurs of surprise and curiosity, a shuffling of feet.

“Bob sent him up from N’awlins,” he continued, “and we’re gonna all chip in and show him the ropes around here, right?”

A chorus of “right” backed him up.

Candy’s hand tightened – Colin felt pinned in place, a sensation he wasn’t used to feeling, thanks to his size – and he used his other hand to point out each member in turn.

“Catcher and Cletus,” he said of the twins. The old man was Blue – fitting, given his bandana color of choice. The sergeant with the dead eyes was Talis. The prospect was Pup. Jinx had a thick blonde beard, funky shaved hairdo, and more tats than Colin could count. Then there was Rio, Gringo, Cowboy and Duke.

“And you met Fox. He’s just visiting,” Candy finished, with a nod toward Walsh’s half-brother that was almost respectful.

Fox nodded back and drained his drink in one swallow.

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