Being the oldest brother, I was tasked with keeping everyone in line, but right about now, I’m seeing double, and all I can focus on is finding a giant soft pretzel with extra salt.
Corralling my brothers like a sheepdog, I say, “Let’s get pretzels.”
“But we weren’t done dancing. We were just finding our groove,” Brig complains.
“We need food. We haven’t eaten since the casino, and that was hours ago.”
Reid pats his stomach. “Best chicken fingers I’ve ever had, and that honey-mustard sauce, ooooeeee, that was good. What I wouldn’t give for a tub of that as a souvenir.”
“Mom really enjoyed hearing about all the money you lost on roulette,” Rogan says, squinting past the hair that has fallen over his face as he taps away on his phone. As he’s one of the taller brothers, it’s funny seeing him hunched over, typing on his phone . . . talking to Mom. “Said she owes you a wallop to the head when we get home.”
“Dude,” Reid complains. “What the hell, man? Why are you reporting things back to Mom?”
He shrugs, which throws his balance askew and sends him off the sidewalk. He catches himself before falling to the ground and chuckles, a sound I haven’t heard from Rogan in a long time. “She slipped me one hundred bucks to give her all the details about this weekend.”
“What?” I ask, insulted. I attempt walking in a straight line next to Reid but fail miserably thanks to the uneven cobblestones. “She didn’t give me any money for making sure everyone came back alive.”
“That’s because you’re already the oldest brother. It’s in the job description,” Rogan says, walking past me in his tight, form-fitting clothes, still texting. Of the four of us, he’s the only one with any sort of fashion sense. I tend to stick with regular jeans and a T-shirt. It’s howI’m most comfortable.
“It’s true,” Brig cuts in, strolling—or more accurately, stumbling—ahead of me. “Being the oldest means you’re our designated voice of reason.”
“What about Jen? Technically, she’s the oldest,” I answer, speaking of our older and only sister, who was too busy taking her kids to their nonstop activities to come on this trip. Though honestly, I think she wanted to stay as far away from this weekend as possible. I don’t blame her. We’ve been hell on wheels since we arrived. “Shouldn’t she hold any kind of responsibilities?”
All three of my brothers exchange looks and then shake their heads, laughing. Brig and Reid link their arms through Rogan’s, and the three waltz off like they’re skipping their way down a yellow brick road rather than a derelict, alcohol-encrusted street. I traipse slowly behind them, really focusing on each step I take.
Do not trip. Do not trip.
One step at a—
My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking my focus. With one faulty step, I fall to the side and stumble against a parked car as I reach for my phone in my pocket. Chuckling, I accept the call, my eyes too unfocused to even make out the name flashing across the screen.
“Hello, this is Griffin Knightly,” I answer. “I’m drunk and am prone to saying stupid things. How may I help you?”
There’s a soft chuckle at the other end, and my heart starts to race immediately.
Claire.
“Hey, you.”
“Wifeeeeeey!” I stop pursuing my brothers and lean back against the car. Honda Civics: very comfortable for drunk leaning.
My brothers’ obnoxiously loud laughter fades as my wife’s voice comes through the phone.
Soft and sweet, just like her skin.
“Mmm, you sound like you’re having a good time.”
I lean my head against one of the cool windows, not caring about who its owner might be. “I am. We had Huge Ass Beers—that’s what they call them—and then made our way through some Grenades, and I also had some white frozen drink at the casino that tickled my fancy.”
She chuckles. “Oh, you’re really drunk. I can always tell because you start adding a little bit of a British accent in your voice.”
“Is that so? Cheerio, mate, and good day to you.” I dip my head as a greeting even though she can’t see me.
“Oh, I miss you. Have you started calling people wankers yet?”
“No.” I sigh, the liquid mixing around in my stomach. Oh boy. “Not yet, but I can feel it coming on.”
“Are you going to remember to get on your flight home tomorrow?”
“Yeah, no problem. We’ve got this.” I yawn and shut my eyes briefly, the ground spinning beneath me. “The white drink was really good.”
“And how were the cocktail waitresses at the casino?”
“Not as pretty as you on a Saturday night with that old-lady turtleneck thing you like to wear.”
She laughs some more. “Good answer. I’ll let you go—I just wanted to make sure you’re still alive.”
“Yup, totally alive, and so are my brothers. Brig, though, not sure how much longer he’s going to last. He’s starting to really belt those Disney songs.”
“I can only imagine what he must sound like.”
“Not good, babe, not good.”
“Okay, well, maybe you guys call it a night soon. You don’t want to get into any trouble. New Orleans can be a shifty place if you’re not paying attention.”
“Don’t worry, babe; we got this under control. I love you.”
“I love you too, Griffin. Be careful.”
“Always.” I hang up the phone and put it back in my pocket before staggering after my brothers, who didn’t get very far.
While unsteadily jogging after them, I trip over a protruding cobblestone and accidentally hurtle myself onto Rogan’s back. He stumbles beneath my weight and tips into Reid, and just like a domino, he slams into Brig, who falls to the ground with a giant crack . . . of wood?
And sure enough, Brig is sprawled out on a rickety pile of broken wood. My foggy brain strains to comprehend the picture.
“Oh fuck, my back.” Brig rolls off the wood and clutches himself in pain. “What is that? There are splinters everywhere. I can feel them.”
“Dude, you broke a table,” Reid points out while I bend down in a clumsy attempt to check Brig’s vitals.
“Shit, did I?” He sits up, and a giant smile stretches across his face as he swats me away, his sandy-brown hair tousled from his fall, those blue eyes we all share wild with excitement. “Alcohol has given me Hulklike superpowers. Look at that thing—I smashed it to smithereens.”
We all take in what’s left of the table, and I have to admit he really did a number on it.
“That’s not from Hulklike superpowers,” Reid points out. “That’s straight up from your fat ass eating twelve beignets this morning.”
“Excuse me.” A thin voice breaks up our banter, and we turn to see an elderly woman step out from a shadowy alleyway. She’s draped in velvet robes, and her face is twisted in anger. “That was my table you smashed.” Her hands are covered with henna tattoos and shake slightly as she points to what’s left of the table.
Once again, we take in the damage, really trying to give it a good once-over, our alcohol-soaked brains attempting to comprehend what we just did. “Oh shit, that was your table?” Brig asks. “Was it important to you?”
“It was where I conducted my work.”
I feel a stab of guilt at her words. “Yeah, it’s where she conducts her work, dumbass.” Reid falls to the ground and tries to put the table back together but fails miserably. “Uh”—he glances over his shoulder, two table legs in his hand—“what do you do exactly?”
“I’m a palm reader.”
I groan inwardly as my guilt quickly dissipates. A palm reader? More like a professional con artist. I mean, how could they possibly be legitimate? Oh, look at that line; it means you will live a long, happy life. And this line right here—you’re going to be married. Oh, and right here, this says you’re going to have a pool.
Talk about the most evasive “storytelling” you’ll ever witness.
“Re
ally?” Brig looks a little too excited, still sitting in the gutter, covered in New Orleans’ finest sewer water. “Will you read my palm? I feel bad I broke your little table, and I want to make it up to you.” Pulling a twenty from his wallet, he waves it in the air as if to say, Come and get it.
“Dude, she’s not going to tell you anything you don’t already know. You’re a nitwit who can’t see past his own damn feet,” Rogan interjects with an eye roll, voicing what no one else will say.
With a smack to his stomach and a sharp eye, I step in front of him so he can’t make the situation any more awkward than it is.
The palm reader eyes the bill quizzically and then snatches it from Brig’s fingertips and sits next to him on the street. I stifle a sigh as Reid, Rogan, and I step closer, our broad shoulders forming a brotherly barricade. A part of me wants to stop this, to pick Brig off the scum-laden streets of New Orleans and drag him to the pretzel joint, but with how invested he looks, I know he’s going to be unmovable.
Brig holds up his hand. “Take a picture, Rogan, and send it to Mom. Tell her she’s about to find out if I’m going to give her any grandkids.”
Rogan rolls his eyes and takes a picture while the palm reader gently takes Brig’s hand in hers. Eyes closed, head tilted to the sky as if looking for answers, her fingers dance across Brig’s skin.
“Oh, that tickles,” he whispers.
Silently we stare at her, watching her lightly sway with the wind breezing through the narrow streets of the French Quarter.
She takes a deep breath in through her mouth, eyes still shut, fingers now pressing deeply into Brig’s palm.
“I see . . . brothers.”
Oh, for Christ’s sake. Right there, see what I was talking about? Professional con artists, stating the absolute obvious. . .
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Standalone Contemporary Romance
(A friends to lovers contemporary romance)
The Secret to Dating Your Best Friend’s Sister
The Romance Novelist Chronicles
(Hilarious, laugh out loud romantic comedies)
**The Virgin Romance Novelist, The Randy Romance Novelist, and The Parenting Romance Novelist are all combined into one book The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles**
The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
The Virgin Romance Novelist
Co-Written with Sara Ney
(A sexy, smart, heart swooning romance)
Love Sincerely Yours
The Perfect Duet
(A heartfelt romance that will leave you breathless)
The Left Side of Perfect
The Right Side of Forever
The Blue Line Duet
(An epic romance with many twists and turns)
The Upside of Falling
The Downside of Love
The Dating by Numbers Series
(Adventurous dating series full of laugh out loud moments and very heated scenes)
Three Blind Dates
Two Wedding Crashers
Back in the Game
One Baby Daddy
The Binghamton Series
(Full of heart, humor, and heat and some HOT CONSTRUCTION WORKERS)
Co-Wrecker
My Best Friend’s Ex
Twisted Twosome
The Other Brother
Standalone Novels
(Full of heart, humor, and heat and some real laugh out loud moments)
The Mother Road
Newly Exposed
Dear Life
The Stroked Series
(HOT sports romance with plenty of humor)
STROKED
STROKED LONG
STROKED HARD
The Bourbon Series
(Sassy, erotic romance with a gorgeous, protective alpha male)
Bourbon Sins
Bourbon Deceit
Bourbon Kingdom
Bourbon Truths
The Love and Sports Series
(New Adult, college football forms into professional football careers. Love triangles.)
Fair Catch
Double Coverage
Three and Out
The Hot-Lanta Series
(My first series ever. Baseball sports romance with lots of drama!)
Caught Looking
Playing the Field
Warning Track
Hit and Run
The Warblers Point Series
(Three Irish brothers, their younger sister, and the drama they get into. Love triangles. Book three still to come.)
Beers, Hens and Irishmen
Beers, Lies and Alibis
The Secret to Dating Your Best Friend’s Sister Page 33