They could have been twins for how alike they were, equally as eccentric and crazy as the other, while Dad and I were the calm, sensible ones who balanced the family on the right side of well-adjusted.
Barely.
The family that was inside that clubhouse? That line between well-adjusted and plain old chaos was just a dot in the distance.
“I hate window-shopping,” Rosie declared, getting out of the car at the same time I did.
My heels clicked on the concrete as I rounded it and Rosie continued talking.
“It’s like going to a buffet when you’re on a no-carb diet and just staring at all the bread. Cruel, really. What harm could one little bun really do?” she asked wistfully.
I laughed. “Well no harm to you, of course. The bun in question? May or may not get shot by Cade.”
Her eyes flickered with something that was becoming more common of late. Something that worried me. Something connected to the lawman who had held her heart for well on a decade.
“Oh yeah,” she muttered. “That’s why.”
I opened my mouth to try and do it, brave her hurricane so I could help my friend, but she burst through the doors of the clubhouse before I could.
“All right, I’m here,” she exclaimed, holding her arms above her head. “I know, a dream come true for most. But I’ll quickly turn into your worst fucking nightmare if someone doesn’t get me a margarita and”—she glanced at me—“a very dirty martini, like yesterday.” Her gaze went to Skid, who paled slightly and damn near tripped over his motorcycle boots to do her bidding. The kid made prospect and, despite him scaring far too easily, I liked him. Then again, being scared of Rosie instead of the muscled and armed men probably made him the smartest person in the room.
I sighed and decided to roll with the hurricane for the time being, hoping the storm would settle soon before disaster laid in its wake.
Little did I know that disaster was already on the horizon. We were just looking the wrong way.
“So, this guy. He’s hotter than Keltan?” Rosie asked slyly as we strutted towards her car, flying high on the buzz of a cocktail each.
I glared at her. “Who?”
She laughed. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me, sister. I cheated off you for my entire high school career. The hot man candy with the accent and the eyes and the bo-dy. The one who’s so obsessed with you.” She started singing “Why You So Obsessed with Me,” and much better than Mariah Carey, in my opinion.
I folded my arms. “Did someone actually check for brain damage when you were dropped on your head as a child, or did they just hope for the best?”
I made the mistake of telling Rosie about Keltan’s continued contact—or stalking, as the authorities would call it—hoping to vent to her and then hatch a plan to scare him off.
We’d done that more than a couple of times with guys who didn’t get the whole “It’s not me, it’s you” conversation.
One actually fled the country once.
It was great.
I’d reasoned the brute would be harder to expedite considering he was operating a very successful and well-known security company in L.A., but I think Rosie once banged a guy working for immigration, so we could change that.
Extreme?
Maybe.
But protection of one’s sanity was serious business.
Or whatever sanity remained with Rosie as a best friend, the Sons of Templar as a family and Keltan as a… problem.
Instead of calling her pal at immigration, or calling in a bomb threat at his security offices, Rosie had decided to be Team Keltan. Merely because she knew me. Too well.
“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” she sang.
I scowled, leaning against the car. “You can’t quote Shakespeare when you thought King Lear was a DJ,” I snapped.
“King Lear is a great name for a DJ,” she countered.
I shook my head, rolling my eyes. They landed on an SUV entering the lot.
The windows were tinted so I couldn’t see the driver, but I knew.
I knew every single car connected to the club, mostly because the men drove bikes and I was friends with all of the women, who totally weren’t into SUVs.
Process of elimination.
And the increase in my blood temperature. Impossible, but it happened. I struggled to keep my breathing even.
I knew it was him. After our last conversation, I couldn’t exactly expect him to stay away. I’d be lying if I said I wanted him to. But I needed him to.
“Uh-oh,” Rosie said, following my gaze.
I swallowed. Hard. “We need to leave, now,” I said urgently.
Rosie folded her arms, the ones holding the keys. “But we’re going to another party to find eligible men.” She nodded to the SUV, which was parking. “He’s eligible.”
“Not happening,” I said through gritted teeth.
She tilted her head as the door opened. “Why, Lulu?” she asked seriously, using the nickname only she and my sister were allowed to use. “He is into you. Like crazy into you.”