Page 47 of Redemption (Brazen Bulls Birthright 1)

Marcella nodded. “Eight.”

And then they all just sat there. The silent tension swelled and might have exploded, except that the server popped up, and the moment deflated quietly as she set three glasses of water and three straws on the table and chirped, “Y’all ready to order?”

“Yeah,” Marcella said. “Ajax?”

“I’d like the chicken tenders platter, please. With coleslaw and macaroni and cheese.”

“You want the kid’s meal?” the server asked.

Ajax’s nose wrinkled. He hated ordering off the kids’ menu. He hated being handed the crayons and placemat, too—though he secretly missed the coloring and puzzles. “No, thank you.”

“One full chicken tenders with slaw and mac. Got it. To drink?”

He looked at Marcella. “Can I have one of the good sodas?”

The Roost’s craft sodas were ten bucks a bottle, and he would definitely want more than one. Normally, Marcella would say no, or at least give him grief about it, remind him to go slow with it, but with Eight hunching like a vulture across the table, she wanted everything smooth and happy. “Sure.”

“A blackberry soda, please,” Ajax said to the server.

Not wanting to eat with her hands at this meal, Marcella ordered a fried chicken salad with extra red pepper dressing. The Roost was known for its fried chicken, but Marcella thought it was a little bland, personally.

Then it was Eight’s turn. He ordered the Roost Platter, their signature meal—half a fried chicken, three sides, and a basket of biscuits. The man could seriously eat.

“And to drink?” the server asked. Marcella watched her, noting how she peeked up subtly through lowered lashes to check Eight out, how her little pink tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. What did this young woman see when she looked at him? What did she feel? Was it fear or lust? Or was it that wild, weird blend of both that got Marcella so overheated for guys like him?

He was old enough to be the server’s father, but if she was anything like Marcella, that was no roadblock. There was something deeply sexy about a guy with some miles on him. Somebody who’d fuckinglived.

Okay, that was weird. She very much needed not to be thinking about Eight Ball and sexiness in the same thought. Not right here and now. Not anywhere or anytime, in fact. Ever again.

Finished with the order, the server left, and Marcella, Ajax, and Eight were abandoned to their own devises again. Fuck, this was uncomfortable.

Marcella opened her mouth, hoping something conversational would come out, but at the same time, Ajax said, “My mom says you want to know about me.”

Eight swallowed hard. He pulled a glass of ice water toward him and took a big drink. “Um, yeah. I guess I do.”

Watching her son closely, Marcella saw how much he didn’t like that word ‘guess.’ But he took another breath and asked, “IguessI’d like to know about you, too.”

Her boy. Ten years old, but smart enough,intuitiveenough, to calibrate such a subtly effective reply.

Eight picked up on the way he stressed the word ‘guess,’ too. Marcella saw the wry twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Okay, let’s start with me, then. What do you want to know?”

Wow, that was a dangerous question. How would Ajax respond? Would he askwhere have you been for the past ten years?Would he askwhy haven’t you cared before now?

She didn’t think so. Ajax stood up for himself, but he wasn’t confrontational. Still, she couldn’t guess where his curiosity would take him first.

“Your face is all bruised up,” he said. “Did somebody hurt you?”

She wanted to wrap her boy up, tuck him into her nest and protect him from anything that might bruise his good heart.

The question obviously stunned Eight. He blinked, looked down, looked up, took a breath, and finally found his level again. “Uh, not really. Just a friendly disagreement. It happens.”

“It does?” Ajax asked.

Eight’s gaze flashed to Marcella and back to Ajax before he answered, “Yeah, kid. Around me, it does.”

“Oh.” Ajax thought about that for a moment. “What do you do?”

“For work? I … uh … run a service station.”

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