“What the hell, Savage? Your woman is totally causing an uprising. I thought you, of all people, would have some semblance of control over her,” Czar said.
Seychelle lifted her chin. “He has none. Zero.” She waved her hand, and her engagement ring sparkled under the lights. “Fiancée, yes. Wife, no. While I can, I plan on holding as many rebellions as possible. Now that I know Blythe can serve poisoned tea and Sabelia can teach us to bring on the toads, the women will be a force to be reckoned with.”
Savage sat back in his chair and regarded his woman. She was laughing again, that little dimple coming out, showing itself to the others. He thought of it as his and realized she didn’t laugh that often around other people. He was happy she’d chosen to go along with Blythe’s teasing everyone.
Her gaze suddenly met his, and the impact was physical. He shook his head. “You do like to get yourself into all kinds of trouble.”
“Sometimes I like the consequences,” she teased.
Breezy managed to get her hands on the bread, although she made a face when she took it. “I may as well put this directly on my thighs. All those exercises I’m doing aren’t helping. Steele doesn’t have to do anything. He can eat all kinds of calories and never gains an ounce. I look at food, and I gain weight. It’s so unfair.”
“Bread is my nemesis,” Seychelle commiserated. “I try to be strict with myself, but I have a really hard time passing up fresh-baked bread. And I especially love to bake it. It makes the house smell so good.”
“If it’s warm,” Blythe added, “you have to put butter on it. What’s the use of having fresh-baked bread without adding salted butter? And then you just wasted the entire night’s run and your spin class on top of it.”
Savage raised an eyebrow. “Are all women like this? Sometimes when I hear Seychelle talk this way about herself, I want to punish her until she realizes it’s plain bullshit to think that way. Then they all do it.”
Czar shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, Blythe stops for a little while and then goes right back to it. I think they’re all raised to be hard on themselves. They look for what they think are flaws and then just see those. Even when they don’t have them, they just make shit up.”
“We don’t have them,” Steele said with a solemn face, “so we can’t possibly understand when anyone slightly subordinate to our good looks and intense sexuality feels undermined and inferior.”
Czar and Savage gave a small nod of approval.
There was a small silence. Breezy turned to Seychelle. “You were saying the Floating Hat was giving classes on hexes? Do you have information on specific nights yet? I’ll need to get a babysitter, but I’m definitely in.”
“Count me in for certain,” Blythe said.
“You got it,” Seychelle said. “I’m thinking remote control and body parts along with the toad class sounds good.”
Savage noticed she shifted in her seat and winced a little. He reached into his pocket and found the bottle of Tylenol. His fingers closed around it, but he didn’t pull it out. What the hell was wrong with him? She was supposed to be feeling his punishment. She was supposed to remember never to go near Brandon fucking Campbell again.
“All in,” Breezy affirmed again.
“These women are out of control,” Steele groused, picking up his menu.
Another round of laughter went up. Savage found he was more than happy that he had brought her to dinner. He kept possession of Seychelle’s hand across the table, his thumb brushing across the back of it. She was seeing that she could fit with Torpedo Ink.
“That man Brandon Campbell,” Blythe ventured as she looked over her menu and then put it down. “The one at the Floating Hat, Seychelle. He had Tessa with him, and you talked to her. How well do you know him?”
Seychelle stiffened, tried to pull her hand away from Savage, but he clamped his fingers around hers and kept brushing his thumb to show her he wasn’t upset with her. He had no idea where the line of questioning was going, but he didn’t want her clamming up every time the bastard’s name was mentioned. They needed information on him.
“Not particularly well,” Seychelle said. “He owns a house across the street from Doris Fendris, one of my senior friends. Why?”
“He signed up for a massage at my spa. I have someone else dealing with all the clients, and honestly, I might not have recognized the name before I went into the room. He asked a lot of questions about you. Too many. I don’t gossip about others and certainly not about any member of Torpedo Ink, so I just told him we were friends and left it at that. He clearly wasn’t happy with my lack of response to his inquiries.”