Chapter One

Jackson

“Do you think we should talk to him?”

I looked over my shoulder and watched Casey speaking with the new server he’d hired two days ago. I was starting to doubt Brandon’s qualifications since he seemed to screw up almost every order. “No. I get the sense he’s still pissed at us for not telling him we’re bear shifters.”

Two weeks ago, Casey, along with his best friend, Dillon, and one of the guys they’d gone to high school with, Shane, had been kidnapped by an evil entity. Nezat. He had plans to procreate with “breeders” to build an army so he could enslave the humans, or some shit like that. I’d been occupied at the time, killing the demon’s minions, too busy to focus on Nezat’s diabolical plans.

Luckily Nezat hadn't succeeded. We’d gotten there before the demon had his way with Casey. The sight of Casey fighting him off still haunted my dreams and made my bear snarl with pure hatred of the bastard.

Now Dillon was living with his mates, Lucas and Mikhia York. Of course, the town couldn’t help but wag their stupid tongues about the three, and I wondered how much they would wag if my brother and I ever got Casey into bed.

Ken tossed the towel over his shoulder and headed to the espresso machine. “We’ll just give him time. He’ll have to eventually come around.”

Or not. Casey could hold a grudge like nobody’s business. Even so, I was still reeling over the fact that Casey could conceive. That enlightenment had blown my mind. Ken and I were insanely attracted to the café owner, and that made me wonder if Casey was our mate.

The only way to find out was to sleep with him, but if I had to take a stab at it, Casey was still too pissed at us to do anything besides throw angry glares our way. If I were being honest, I was surprised he hadn't fired us when he’d found out we were bear shifters. I think he was still in shock over that discovery.

“Or we can just sandwich him between us,” I suggested as I leaned my arms on the counter, watching Casey’s every move. The guy had such a cute little ass I didn’t mind staring at while he worked. “We’ll be irresistible once we turn on our charms.”

Ken scrubbed his hand over his bearded jaw. “I’m not so sure. He’s more liable to cut our balls off with a rusty kitchen knife than get into bed with either of us.”

I’d seen Casey in a foul mood, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. One time I’d had to grab a frying pan from him before he’d knocked a customer over the head with it. The customer had made a comment about Dillon, Casey’s best friend, shacking up with two men. Casey had gone to the kitchen and returned with a cast iron skillet. I’d gotten the skillet from him just in time before he’d done some serious damage to the poor guy.

I didn’t want that cast iron skillet aimed at me.

Then Casey turned his hazel eyes toward us and headed for the counter. He stopped then slapped his palms on the surface. “If you two are done lazing around, we have food to cook and people to serve.”

Ken gave a salute and marched into the kitchen like an obedient bear. I wasn’t the obedient type, so I crossed my arms and stared Casey down. “How long are Ken and I in the doghouse?”

Casey narrowed his eyes. “Do you really want to talk about this now?”

Not in front of customers, who were, no doubt, straining to hear what we were talking about. Small towns were the worst when it came to gossip, and Hungry, Louisiana, was no exception. If you asked me, this town was worse because there was jack shit to do here. Their idea of a good time was spending Saturday nights at the local Walmart or Bailey’s Bar and Grille.

I couldn’t count how many times I’d been bored out of my mind, sitting at home, staring up at the ceiling, wishing Hungry had a damn night club. But they were religious people, Bible-thumping, God-fearing uptights who had nothing better to do than judge others.

Why again had Ken and I settled in this backwater town? It had been six months, and we’d been on our way to Mardi Gras, but when we’d stopped at Casey’s Café, our plans had changed.

Casey’s dad, a piece-of-shit human, had blown back into Casey’s life, acting as if he hadn't deserted Casey’s mom when she’d found out she was pregnant. Nope. Fred McGuire had seen how well his son had been doing for himself, had started hitting Casey up for loans, and acted as if he owned half of Casey’s business.

That was when Casey had taken one look at us and asked if we wanted to be his muscle. We’d agreed, had run Fred out of town, and had stayed ever since, now a cook and server for Casey.

And so fucking bored most nights that I’d given serious thought to taking up knitting. Anything to alleviate all the time I had on my hands. Now, if Casey agreed to sleeping with me and Ken, that was a different story.

Not that I desired my brother. Gross. We just shared a special bond between us, had always shared bed partners, and, to us, that was normal. Probably not to the townsfolk. Now wouldn’t that make their eyebrows crawl to their hairline if they knew the indecent thoughts my brother and I had concerning Casey?

“Did your porchlight just go out?” Casey frowned.

“What?” I would never get used to the way these people talked sometimes. Ken and I used to live in New York. Things were different in the Deep South. Laid back and slow-paced and there were times I hadn’t the faintest damn clue what they were saying. I still hadn’t gotten the southern slang and wondered if I ever would.

“It means your mind blanked out on me.”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?” I asked.

“I did!” Casey threw his arms up as he rolled his eyes. “I can’t help it if you don’t understand plain English.”

“I do. I just don’t understand Casey-isms.” I smirked as I watched the fire in Casey’s eyes ignite. He was a pistol, and I loved it. I also wondered if he would be a pistol in bed. I was dying to find out. Half the time Casey made my dick so hard I could pound nails with it. For six months, I’d wanted him, but for six months, Casey had kept me and Ken at arm’s length.