“I’ll fill you in,” Trinity promises. “Hope?” The two of them wind their way through the crowd and out the front door.
Lilly hugs me again. “Call me whenever you want to talk,” she says against my ear.
“I will.”
Heidi yawns and rubs her stomach. “I need a nap.” She squeezes my arm. “If you see Murphy, tell him I went to the house.”
“Do you want us to walk you home?” I ask.
“No.” She waves off the offer. “Shelby just got here.”
“Did they all just ditch us?” Shelby squints at the front door.
“I don’t think it was intentional.”
“Oh, well.” She flashes a quick grin and loops her arm through mine.
Jiggy waves to us from one of the couches in the corner. Shelby tugs me across the room. For such a tiny woman, she’s awfully strong.
“Hey, there, songbird,” Jiggy tips his head back and flashes a warm smile at Shelby, then me. “And ray of sunshine.”
I chuckle. “Hey.”
“Hey, Jiggy.” Shelby cocks her head. “Ya find what ya needed?”
He squeezes his arm around the tanned blonde practically sitting in his lap. “This is Amy. Amy, this is Shelby.” He nods to me. “And Charlotte.”
“Hiya.” Shelby wiggles her fingers.
“Sit, join us.” Jiggy nods to the space next to him.
Amy doesn’t seem as welcoming. Either she’s missed that we’re already patched and therefore not interested in stealing Jigsaw away or she’s seen our patches and assumes we’ll be mean to her.
Ignoring her, I reach for the filmy material of Shelby’s dress. It’s made up of layers and layers of gauzy lilac fabric with vibrant butterflies scattered over it. “I love this, by the way.”
“Yeah?” She plays with the frills covering her chest. “I thought it might be a little too baby girl, ya know? Rooster and I don’t play that game.”
Jigsaw rubs his hand over the side of his head. “As long as you don’t put your hair in pigtails and call him Daddy, I think you’re fine.”
Ignoring Jigsaw’s advice, I nod to Shelby’s silver cowboy boots. “Damn, if we were the same size, I would so steal those boots.”
She beams at me and sticks her foot out to show them off. “Rooster bought ’em for me.”
“My boy has a foot fetish,” Jiggy announces.
“Hush your mouth.” Shelby leans over and gives him a playful shove.
Amy’s dizzy gaze narrows into something catty as she stares at Shelby. She points one long orange fingernail at Shelby’s waist, almost poking her in the stomach. “Aren’t you a little chubby for that kind of dress?”
Shock wipes the sweet smile off of Shelby’s face. She blinks, then seems to find her cool. “I dunno, aren’t you a lil’ bitchy to be flappin’ those lips in my ol’ man’s clubhouse?”
The girl pushes against the couch as if she’s about to launch herself at Shelby. Jigsaw wraps his hand around her chicken-wing arm, holding her in place. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he warns. He releases her and she wobbles out of his lap. “Get the fuck outta here.”
“What?”
Jigsaw ignores her and snaps his fingers at one of the prospects. The movement also catches Steer’s eye, and he follows the prospect over.
“Jiggy, come on,” the girl whines. When he still won’t look at her, she stands and stomps her feet. “Fine.” She casts her conniving gaze around the room.