Page 181 of I Will Revel in Glory (Death by Daybreak MC 3)
“Now we just gotta drag the fucking chairs out here,” he says with a scowl. He looks down at me as I pass over his beer, and the edge of his lip quirks up in a smile instead. “Thanks, mama,” he says, and I narrow my eyes on him.
“You know I hate that,” I say. He does. But he does it anyway, just to get under my skin so that we can despise each other a little bit, and then bang it out. “The yard looks amazing.” It gags me a little bit, but I make myself say it. “Thank you.”
“Why don’t you thank us by getting under that table and sucking us all off?” Grainger quips, and he moves away before I get a chance to pick up a rock and throw it at him.
“Don’t you harass my pregnant wife like that,” Beast says, his voice mild but edged with a bit of a threat. He’s joking though. Mostly.
Cade ignores him, moving into the house and returning with a single chair in his hand, chugging his beer as he goes.
“Sit,” he commands, putting it at the head of the table. I do, and he sets his beer beside me. The other three men do the same, setting their drinks down, and then working to bring out the rest of the chairs. There are a dozen in total which freaks me out a little.
We’re having Nellie over obviously, as well as René, Amber, Big Jack, another couple that Crown knows and likes, and a man whose club name is quite literally Tigger—like the cartoon tiger, yes. Lord knows where he got that nickname. I truly do not want to hear that story.
When Sin comes back with the final chair, he also has a glass of orange juice with a squiggly straw for me which I appreciate. A pleased smile curves my lips even though I try to hide it.
“You’re making me too soft,” I grumble, and Sin snorts, putting his hand on the surface of the table and leaning down to look into my eyes.
“Gidge, you beheaded a mafia queen. Nobody would ever accuse you of being soft.” He takes the seat next to me, Beast beside him. Grainger’s on my other side with Crown on his left.
The boys and I sit together in companionable silence for a little while.
I look out across the yard and then lift my gaze up, past the fence and toward the trees. We got so damn lucky that the compound didn’t burn. Of course, it occurred to all of us that if we’d stayed put here, Cat might’ve survived.
That’s the thing with war; there are no right answers. We just as easily could’ve burned up or been driven off the compound into traps set by the mafia. There’s no way we could’ve known what was going to happen with the wind.
I sigh and lean back in my chair, enjoying the sunshine on my skin and the easy quiet. For a second there, I feel like I see a firefly, but then, of course, I remember that we don’t have fireflies in Oregon. It’s just a flash of sunlight off the edge of one of the Edison bulbs. Too bad.
“Hey, Beast,” I start, dropping my chin back down. “Do you have fireflies in Tennessee?”
He looks over at me, his mouth shifting up into a gentle smile.
“Lightning bugs?” he queries, and then his smile turns into something of a grin. “Sure do. The bugs in the Smoky Mountains make pretty, synchronized light shows; they flash in unison.” He taps his fingers against the side of his beer bottle. “I was thinkin’ we could pay my family a visit after the baby is born, just to show off a little.”
“I’d like that,” I say, glancing over at Grainger to gauge his reaction. He seems fairly neutral toward the idea. Crown, on the other hand, is frowning hard. Sin just sips his beer, and I can’t seem to get a read on him either way. “All of us or …?”
They all turn to look at me. I like that, when their collective attention is on me and me alone. It makes me feel safe, powerful, wanted.
“Your choice, darlin’,” Beast continues, standing up and taking his beer with him. “I’mma shower before our guests arrive. I stink to high heaven.” He takes off, and I watch him go, hesitating for just a second.
“Go on, we all know where your dirty ass mind has gone to,” Grainger growls out, taking another sip of his beer. “Just don’t forget to service the rest of your poor, blue-balled husbands.”
“Oh please,” I spit back at him, using my straw to flick orange juice his way. “As if you don’t get fucked at least every other day, sometimes more than that.” I stand up and shove my empty glass toward him. “For being an ass, you can clean this up.”
