“Sounds like Belle is fitting in just fine,” I tease, though I admit I’m surprised.
Clan Frasier isn’t particularly inclusive. Whenever I’ve brought a girlfriend around for dinner in the past, my sisters have always grilled them. That’s why I groaned when I heard them cackling like a bunch of witches.
“Kitty told Róisín and Neev that you were chivalrous last night. So they’re curious.”
What?“I wasn’t.”
Ma arches a brow at me.
I scowl. “I was being polite.”
“Well, what does it say about you when your sisters think that means you’re two steps away from proposing because you’re nice to a girl you brought home!”
“You say that like I’m mean—”
“You’ve gone through this neighborhood like the measles,” she grumbles, making my lips twitch again—I’m not dumb enough to smile. “I can barely open my curtains now without another mother glaring at me wherever I turn. Especially when you’ve never given even the glimpse of a wedding ring to their poor daughters.”
“I’m not that bad!” I argue. Andpoor daughters,my ass. I offer complete satisfaction, three orgasms per fuck—what more can a woman ask for?
“You are. The Lord made you pretty, son.” She pats my cheek. “It’s a curse you have to bear.”
My eyes ache with the need to roll them. “I think I deal well with the disadvantage, Ma.”
Another wave of laughter sounds from the dining room and she mutters, “They’d better not be telling her about Stan’s penis.”
That has me gaping at her. “Stan’s dick? Why the hell would they be telling her about that? And how do you know about it?”Who the fuck even is Stan?
She sniffs. “It’s something that happened at the hospital.” Then, she hurries back down the hall, and, hell, I scurry after her.
“—helicopter—”
That’s all I hear, and it’s all I need to hear before I growl, “Catriona Frasier!” I don’t care that I’ve made her jump.
“God, you sound like Da when you use that tone,” she clips at me.
“Imagine if he’d heard you talking about—”
“Helicopters?” Belle inserts, her brow furrowed in faux confusion. “What’s wrong with talking about helicopters, Cade?”
I glower at her. “You’re siding with them?”
Her grin is mischievous and she knows it. Kitty holds up her hand so they can high-five one another. “Women have to stick together so we can headbutt the patriarchy en masse,” my sister informs me. “And this was a beautiful helicopter. The best in the—”
“I’m not the patriarchy and I don’t need to hear about another guy’s—”
“Cade!” Ma bleats before I can swear.
Kitty just sniffs. “You would say that, wouldn’t you?”
“Less of the feminism at the table, Kitty. I don’t want you getting into a debate with your brother again,” Ma grouses as she butters a slice of toast. “It took two days for that migraine to go. Why the good Lord blessed me with six children and made them louder than freight trains, I don’t know.”
“Why was this Stan guy doing helicopters with his dick anyway?” I demand, taking a seat next to Belle once more.
“Cade Shaun Frasier!” Ma cries. “You can’t be talking about that at the dinner table!”
The girls cascade into laughter, but it’s Belle’s who makes something weird ping in my chest.
I already know she’s been hurt—didn’t need my ma or her “sight” to tell me that.