I could tell he wasn’t going to eat it the moment she set it down in front of him.
But, when the waitress asked if everything looked okay, he answered with a nod.
I held up my hand. “Wait. He wasn’t supposed to have gravy on his potatoes. It was supposed to be on the side.”
The waitress blinked as if she couldn’t understand words that didn’t come out of anyone but Bayou’s mouth, and then turned her gaze in Bayou’s direction. “I’m sorry, honey. I’ll get that fixed for you right away.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I wondered.
He opened his mouth, closed it, and then pursed his lips. “When you send food back, there’s a one in fifteen chance that they’re going to do something to it. I’d really like to not find a pubic hair in my mashed potatoes.”
I gagged. “That’s gross…and you made that statistic up. There’s no way in hell that’s true.”
He shifted in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “Believe me or not, but it’s true.”
I stuck my tongue out and made a gagging face at him. “I’m never sending my food back again…but, just sayin’? That woman totally has the hots for you. The only thing I think she might do to your food is give you extra just because you’re gorgeous.”
He blinked at me in confusion. “I’m what?”
“Gorgeous,” I repeated.
The tips of his ears turned pink. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.
“Um, no,” he disagreed. “I’m manly.”
I grinned unrepentantly. “Manly and gorgeous can happen at the same time.”
He opened his mouth to say something more when his food was placed in front of him.
He looked over at me expectantly. “And the lady’s food?”
The waitress frowned. “It’ll be about ten more minutes on hers. You just looked hungry so I brought yours out first.”
I started to laugh then. “Imagine that.”
“You can take this back,” Bayou said. “And bring our check, sans her food.”
The waitress frowned. “I’m sorry…but what?”
He repeated himself, word for word.
“But why?” she asked.
That was when Bayou went into a play by play of exactly what she’d done to annoy him, ending with the fact that she ‘couldn’t get a simple food order right.’
The waitress floundered for a few long seconds and then blushed profusely. “I’ll see if I can hurry them up on her food.”
“Or,” Bayou pushed. “You could bring me my check so we can leave.”
The waitress shook her head and hurried away, and Bayou flagged down another waitress, this one an old woman that looked like she’d seen how hard life could really be.
“I requested that our check be brought to us sans her food since the waitress is playing games with me,” Bayou said. “Could you make sure that she does?”
The older waitress nodded, not affected in the least by Bayou’s abruptness or glower.
Five minutes after that, our food was in to-go containers, and I was standing next to my truck with Bayou a few feet away from me, waiting for me to climb in my truck.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go anywhere else?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No reason to now. You have your food, and I have mine. We can go to our separate establishments and eat in peace.”
A bird crowed overhead, and his eyes went to the sky.
I lost him for a few long seconds as he studied the bird.
“What?” I asked him.
“Crow,” he answered. “American crow.”
I blinked. “There are different types of crows?”
He gestured to the crow with his head. “There are forty known species of crow.”
Huh. The things you learned.
“That’s cool,” I said. “How many live in the US?”
He went on to explain just how many lived in the US, then how many lived in other parts of the world.
“In Japan, carrion crows use cars and traffic signals to open their hard-shelled food they can’t crack on their own,” he said, still studying the bird. “They can read traffic signals. They wait until the lights turn red, then fly down and place their nuts on the ground. When the light turns green, the crow flies away to safety. It will wait until the light turns red again to fly down and get their cracked nuts.” He paused. “Though there have been reports of some American crows doing the same thing in California. However, I haven’t witnessed this.”
My mouth had fallen open at his words. “That’s actually the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. Resourceful little buggers.”
He nodded. “That’s why they frequent places like Walmart and fast food restaurants. People drop food there all the time.”
His every word was fascinating.
Who knew that I could like a crow?
I looked down at my wrist, at the second hummingbird tattoo that I’d gotten just because of him, and smiled.
“I guess I better go,” I admitted softly, dropping my wrist. “I’ll see you tomorrow at…what time?”
“Shift starts at seven. Me, personally, I’d get there at seven on the dot.” He paused. “But I like being on time for things. Being early means that my routine everywhere else has to be pushed back thirty minutes as well…and I like to sleep.”
I smiled. “I’ll be there at seven.”
His eyes finally moved from the crow to my face, his gaze holding mine for a few long seconds before nodding once.
“See you tomorrow.”
With that, he walked to his bike, and I finally got all the way into my truck.
At the end of the day, I had a brand-new package of fifteen pens—all like the ones I’d told Bayou were my favorite—but no original pen. I also had a box of food that I refused to eat because he was right, the likelihood that they spit in my food was a high one.
I made myself a sandwich when I got home and tried not to think about the man that refused to stray far from my thoughts.
I failed.
I did nothing but think about him from the time I went to bed, to the time I went to work again at seven on the dot the next evening. Even my dreams were all about him.
Chapter 5
Sometimes I feel like I have my life together. Then my windshield gets foggy and I can’t figure out whether I should turn on the A/C or the heat.
-Phoebe to Bayou
Phoebe
I’d been working at the prison for six months, and in those six months, I’d royally questioned my sanity.
Each day that I worked there was like a lesson in control.
Not because the job was hard—it wasn’t. It was actually quite easy and fun.
No, because I had to see him every day, and it was beginning to wreak havoc on my brain.
We’d never done dinner again—and that wasn’t for lack of trying on my part. I’d asked him, multiple times, if he wanted to grab something to eat after work and he’d shot me down.
Though, most of those times it’d been three in the morning and hell, I didn’t blame him for not wanting to go out to eat that late at night.
I’d found the perfect time to work in the prison infirmary, and I’d taken to the late-night swing shift with relish.
The only problem was that Bayou wasn’t able to work that swing shift with me all the time, and I was considering being the float nurse that went through all the shifts where she was needed. At least then I might be able to catch more glimpses of the man.
But, the thought of having to work with Diane again wasn’t a good one. Diane, it turned out, was even crazier than she first appeared. And I knew that only because I’d worked with her a handful of other times, and each of those times she’d either almost gotten herself killed, or me.
“All I’m saying is that it’s only fair,” I said for the third time. “I’ve known her longer.”
Hoax, my sister’s husba
nd, looked at me like I had a screw loose.
I did, but he didn’t have to acknowledge the fact.
“These are my children,” he said. “I should be in the operating room when my babies are born.”
My sister, who was watching us both with amusement from the porch swing as we waited impatiently for the time to leave, started to snicker.
“How about we play rock paper scissors,” I suggested, holding my fist out to him.
He shook his head. “No. I refuse.”
“That’s selfish,” I told him. “Pure selfishness.”
My sister giggled, and I shot her a glare. “You’re not helping.”
“He’s right, though,” she said. “He did have a part in making them. He probably should have a part in bringing them into this world, too.”
A motorcycle pulled up across the street, and my heart started to pound.
To hide my elation and nervousness of seeing the man of my obsessions, I turned to study the neighborhood, trying to keep my gaze from the man that was now dismounting his bike and walking our way.
“Hey, do you think that house right there is for rent?” I asked.
“Which one?” Hoax asked, his eyes following mine.
“The one with the tall grass.” I pointed to the end of the road at the house that was in the turnaround part of the cul-de-sac. “I think it’d be nice to be closer…and I’m tired of living in my apartment. My downstairs neighbor lets his dogs shit next to my truck and I have to dodge poo-bombs every morning. Not to mention I’m tired of carrying my groceries up six thousand stairs.”
“Maybe if you didn’t eat that much you wouldn’t need to haul that many groceries up the stairs,” Pru said.
I pointed at her. “You can’t keep this body looking like a back road if you don’t fuel it.”
“Sam Hunt has no place in this conversation,” Pru countered.
I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Bayou,” Hoax’s voice said in welcome. “How’s it going?”
I looked over to see Hoax facing Bayou, and Bayou looking curiously between Pru and me.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“We’re talking about who’s going into the operating room with Pru,” I explained, my eyes hungry to take Bayou in. “I think I should go because I’ve known her longer. Hoax thinks he should go since he’s the father.”
Bayou’s gaze came to mine, and I swear to Christ the smile on his perfect lips sent my heart rate through the roof, and my excitement to have him so near into freaky levels.
“I’m fairly sure that it’s customary for the father to attend the birth of his children,” he said. “And since she isn’t doing it naturally, and they can only have one person, it should be him.”
I bared my teeth at him. “There you go being rational.”
“Do you think you’d be willing to rent that house to Phoebe?” Hoax asked. “I know that you bought it in hopes of fixing it up and moving into it yourself, but you’ve been saying that for two years now and haven’t done a single thing to it but maintenance.”
Bayou owned the house?
“Uhh,” I started to say.
“Sure.” Bayou turned to me. “But rent’s not free.”
My mouth parted, but no words were forthcoming.
“How much, exactly, are we talking?” Pru questioned.
“Five hundred and fifty a month,” he answered. “Plus, you’ll have to pay utilities.”
“Deal,” I blurted.
That was actually a steal. I was paying seven hundred a month for a one-bedroom apartment. Though, granted, the utilities were covered. But based on the size of the house down the road, it was at least three bedrooms.
“You’ll also have to allow me to come in and start fixing it up. I do randomly go over there and fix a thing here and there. I’ll give you a couple of day’s notice before I do, though,” Bayou continued.
I smiled then.
“Deal!” I cried.
“Good. Now, let’s go have our babies,” my sister ordered as she stood up.
I bit my lip as a wave of fear rolled through me.
Today was the day that the scheduled delivery of her twins would take place, and I was scared shitless.
Something in which the man that’d just offered me the deal of a lifetime noticed.
I turned away. “Ready when you are.”
***
My dad was standing in front of me holding a baby.
I was sitting down on the couch, holding another.
My sister and mom were cooing over pictures that Hoax had taken in the delivery room, and Hoax was lying on the couch looking green.
Apparently seeing his wife’s stomach laying open, and her uterus laying on her lap, was too much for him.
Novice.
“You should’ve totally let me go into the operating room,” I called out to him.
Hoax cracked one eye open and lifted only a single arm, flipping me off.
I grinned.
My father laughed. “Just you wait, boy. The fun times have only started. Though, I can’t say I know how to help you with boys…I’ve only really dealt with girls.”
“There was Justin, Luca and…” I started naming off all of the boys that the other members of Free had produced over the years.
“But those weren’t mine,” he said. “Sure, I hung out with them. Babysat them. But ultimately all the hard stuff was left up to their parents.”
That was true.
“I think I’ll survive.” Hoax sat up and swayed.
Pru giggled. “Everything okay, honey?”
Hoax stuck his tongue out at his wife. “Peachy.”
“Anyway, is the one I’m holding Sam or Dean?” Dad asked.
He’d arrived about five minutes before and stolen the baby from my mom. He’d then walked over to me so he could inspect them both.
“Dean,” I said. “Sam has a cute little birthmark on his head right here,” I pointed. “Dean doesn’t.”
“Interesting,” he said. “At least there’s an easy way to tell them apart. Your mother had to tie ribbons in Pru and Piper’s hair so that everyone else could tell them apart.”
“Everyone else?” Hoax asked, walking over.
“Yeah,” Dad said, not offering to give up his armful of baby. “I could tell them apart and so could Cheyenne. Everyone else, though? They had a hard time.”
“I used to paint their fingernails, too,” Cheyenne called, smiling at a certain picture that my sister had stopped at. “Can’t do that with boys, I don’t guess.”
“I guess I didn’t think this whole thing out,” Hoax muttered. “I just thought it’d be easy to tell them apart.”
“At least they’re not identical,” I said just as there was a knock on the door.
“Come in!” Pru yelled.
Bayou pushed the door open with his elbow, and my breath hitched in my chest.
He was dressed for work, and God, was he divine.
So tall and good looking.
And the smile he aimed at my sister was disarming.
“Congratulations,” he rumbled.
A shiver tore down my spine at his words.
“Thank you,” Pru returned his smile. “I didn’t think you’d be able to come.”
Bayou had been on his way to an early meeting when he’d learned of my sister’s impending C-section. He’d waited until we’d loaded her up and were on our way before he’d gone to his meeting—a very important one with the county and the city that surrounded the prison.
Instead of looking at the babies, he turned to face Pru and Hoax.
“I didn’t, either,” he admitted. “I went to the meeting that I had scheduled and slipped out about thirty minutes earlier than I thought I’d be able to. They weren’t too upset. They understood that it wasn’t every day that your neighbor goes into labor.”
“You called her your neighbor?” I aske
d, a smile growing on my face.
He shrugged. “Yeah. That’s what she is.”
I burst out laughing, and his ears tinged pink. “What was I supposed to say?”
“That your cousin’s wife went into labor and that you were reluctant to leave your cousin who was freaking out,” I suggested.
“I wasn’t freaking out,” Hoax denied.
Bayou leveled a look on him. “You were freaking out. You were also hyperventilating, and I was honestly worried about you driving.”
Hoax opened his mouth to deny that fact when he changed his mind and snapped it closed. “I can’t wait to see your face when you have a kid.”
Bayou crossed his arms over his chest. “I refuse to have any. I don’t want to pass on any of my” —he directed his hand back at himself— “issues.”
Dad, who’d been listening with half an ear, focused on him fully.
“Issues?” he asked.
“Issues,” Bayou confirmed.
He didn’t expound, which was the reason my father had directed his question toward him in the first place. They were in some weird stare off where Bayou waited for him to ask a question that he felt like answering, and Dad waited for more information that he wasn’t going to get.
In the end, I turned to Bayou and said, “From what I understand, the ‘issues’ you speak of aren’t really ‘issues’ but ‘idiosyncrasies’ that you don’t let control your life. You’re doing better than ninety-nine percent of the population with what you perceive as issues but really aren’t. You’ve overcome, adapted, and done well for yourself.”
He didn’t reply.
I looked up to find my dad winking at me.
Dad remembered everything. He wasn’t oblivious to my fascination of a young man at two parties when I was fifteen and sixteen. I didn’t pull anything over on him. Ever.
My mom? Yeah, I could do almost anything and get away with it from her.
She just wasn’t as observant as my father.
“What way did they decide?” Hoax questioned, stretching his arm up high over his head.
I returned a smile to my father and stood up, the bundle in my arms making a protesting sound when he was jostled with my movement.
I walked up beside Bayou and pointed to the hand sanitizer on the wall. “You forgot to clean your hands.”
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