Page 42 of Gator's Gambit
“Well, here we are,” Gator says. “You ready?”
“About as ready as I'm ever gonna be,” I reply with a nervous grin.
Godric's just about to open his door when I reply, but my words stop him in his tracks. He turns to study me, his eyes intense. For the first time he pays attention to just how nervous I actually am.
“Pooks, they're going to love you. I mean, come on, what's not to love? You know I'd never bullshit you right?”
“Yeah, I know. But if I'm being brutally honest, that's not really helpful right now. Ask women. These are the things we worry about. Sometimes I think men have it pretty damn easy.”
“Don't be fooled by the macho cover up. I think we're just better at hiding it because we have to be. At least, that's my takeon it anyway. Now come on, let's go wow the crowd.” With that, he gets out of the car and comes around to my side. He opens my door and offers me a helping hand.
“In case I haven't told you yet this evening, your ass looks phenomenal in those jeans. And the heels … mmm, mmm, mmm.” The waggling eyebrows make a reappearance, and it’s just what I need to soothe the nerves.
Godric reaches out to knock on the front door. Before anyone can answer though, he leans over and whispers, “What are the chances I can talk you into coming home with me later? And keeping the heels on while we – you know.” My hormones hum to life as we stand on Bear’s front step, Godric’s hand resting in the small of my back.
Right on cue, the door opens, and Bear stands grinning at us and I don’t get a chance to respond, but I don’t think I could have even if I wanted to.
“Hey guys, come on in.” Once again, I’m taken aback by how big this man is.
I’m guessing he’s got to be somewhere around six-foot-five, six-six, possibly even six-seven. And he’s pretty damn solid, with a big presence to match. This man’s no skinny weed, that’s for sure. But it’s his voice that mesmerizes a person – deep, rich, and oh so seductive.
I can’t help but wonder how he manages to go undetected when out on missions.
Following him into the house, I first notice the incredible smell of something cooking. If it tastes anything like it smells, it’s going to be fabulous. The next has my heart sinking – when I note how many people are in the room. All the men from the restaurant, and five beautiful women. If it weren’t for Godric’s hand at my back, I think there’d be a very real possibility of me making a run for the door.
“What can I get you to drink?” Bear asks.
“Oh, um, just something soft please. A soda or juice if you have any. Thanks.”
He nods. “Gator, why don’t you introduce Fancy around while I go grab your drinks?”
“On it,” he replies, taking me by the hand and leading me over to where Knight is sitting with an auburn-haired beauty beside him.
“Pooks, you’ve already met Knight.”
“Hello again.” The man gives me a smile that I’m sure has hearts fluttering everywhere he goes – something I noticed when I met him.
“The lovely lady beside him is Indigo – also known as his better half,” Godric continues.
“Hey now.” Knight’s objection has everyone laughing, while he appears to be considering Godric’s comment. “Actually, on second thought, you’re right. She is indeed my better half.” The look he gives Indigo has my heart sighing. Women the world over would give almost anything to have someone look at them like that.
“Hi,” Indigo greets with the sweetest smile. “It’s great to meet you. I’ve heard such lovely things about you from Knight.”
I feel myself blush at her kind words. “Thanks,” is all I can think of to say. “It’s good to meet you too.”
Indigo’s welcome sets the tone for the rest of the introductions, the ladies all being really nice. Eloise is a little more reserved than the others – I guess being a police officer might make a person more cautious with new people. But even she seems like someone I could be friends with.
Dinner is loud and obnoxious and fun.
The guys rag on each other mercilessly, and the girls get in on the action every now and again. For the most part, though, we have our own conversation going on the side. As much as I’menjoying the rapport the ladies share, I still feel a little on the outside, though.
I hear my phone chime a message from the depths of my purse. Reaching in to pull it out, my deck of tarot cards falls onto the table, and I stop breathing. Shit. I’m too scared to lift my head and see the reaction of the others. It could go one of two ways – either people are accepting of it, or they aren’t – and more often than not, they usually aren’t.
“Oooh, tarot,” I hear one of the ladies say – I think it’s Agatha, but I can’t be sure until, scraping my courage together, I lift my head and see her reaching across to pick the deck up. I’m impressed when she stops short of actually lifting the little box, saying instead, “Oh crap, wait. By picking it up I’ll be muddying the energies, won’t I?”
“Some believe that, yes. But it’s easy enough to clear energy from the deck and imbue my own back into it.” I smile over at her, thankful for the non-judgment.
For a moment she almost appears shy, before the more assertive woman I’ve been getting to know resurfaces. “Since dinner’s pretty much over anyway, do you think I could – you know what, never mind.”
