Rough Edge (Tannen Boys 2)

She really hates being told what to do, I think with a smile. I love that about her.

As I open the door, the breath I didn’t know I was holding escapes in a hushed, “Fuck.” She’s laid out just like I told her to, but never one to follow orders—how was this woman ever in the military?—she’s face down with that tiny ass in the air.

She smirks, her cheek against my sheet as she wiggles her hips, knowing exactly what she’s doing to me. “Like this, Cowboy?”

“Yep, Lil Bit. Just like that.” Hell, I’m not gonna argue when her plan for round two is better than mine.

“So lovely to see you again, Rix,” Mama Louise says as we pile ham steaks, bourbon glazed carrots, and fried okra onto our plates.

It’s probably just my hearing, but I swear there’s a tease in there. A slight emphasis on the ‘see you’?

I should’ve known better. Big-mouthed men, clucking women, and hot gossip are the worst combination for polite dinner conversation.

Erica chokes a little on the swallow of her tea. “Uhm, yeah . . . good to see you too.” She looks to me, eyes asking ‘what the fuck?’ loud and clear.

Shayanne is next. “I heard you’ve been real busy lately.” After a dramatic pause, she finishes, “At the shop.”

Erica blinks. I blink. I take Erica’s hand beneath the table for moral support. Hers? Mine? I’m not entirely sure.

“Guess you’re feeling better after staying in bed all day,” Brutal grunts my way. He’s probably the one who made the coffee for me this morning and left the aspirin on the coffee table for me when I passed out drunk last night.

I look around the table, every pair of eyes looking from me to Erica with giddy humor. I’m glad Allyson and Cooper are in town tonight at a school thing because I wouldn’t want to scar the kid with what I’m about to do. I’m not a shy, oh-no-don’t-make-fun sort. So I do what I always do. Go hard.

“Elephant in the room. Erica and I had sex. Enjoyed it. Mark and Mama Louise heard us today. It’s basic human functionality. We good here? Any questions?”

Ah, shit. I was doing so well. They all looked slightly chastised by my facing their teasing head-on, but now Shayanne raises her hand with a shit-eating grin. “Oh, I’ve got a question or twenty.”

I hang my head, talking out the side of my mouth to Erica. “I am so sorry.”

Somehow, the already disastrous situation devolves even further, though I’m not sure how.

“Don’t act like you didn’t give me hell when Shay and I started dating,” Luke throws out.

“Language,” Mama Louise says quickly.

James jumps in. “You still give Sophie and me a hard time!”

Mark growls, “Because you two are so loud the neighbors threatened to call the cops.”

Sophie points at me. “Brody was the neighbor, so guess the table’s turned there, huh?” She shovels a tiny bite of pureed, non-bourbon-glazed carrot into Cindy Lou’s mouth, who is completely oblivious to the rantings of the adults around the table. Thank goodness the only words she knows are mama, dada, and baba. The last one is what she calls Bacon Seed.

My turn again. “And we all know what you and Katelyn get up to, so don’t even start with me,” I tell Mark.

“You don’t know anything, and don’t you forget it.” Cold ice has entered his voice and it becomes an actual threat.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” I snap back. “I can’t forget what I don’t know.”

“Exactly,” Mark says. I love the guy like a brother, and yeah, we’re more alike than different, but fuck, he’s weird sometimes. And that’s saying something coming from me.

“You know what I hear?” Mama Louise interrupts us all, and we turn our attention to her dutifully. “That my kids, all my kids, have grown up to be loving people who show their love with their chosen partners in a beautiful, pleasurable way.”

“Blech . . . Mama is talking about s-e-x. All stop. Abort conversation. Over.” Luke acts like he’s talking into a CB radio.

We all cringe a little. It’s one thing to give each other shit. It’s quite another to think of Mama Louise and sex in the same conversation, much less sentence.

“Hush up, Son. Your father and I had a very loving relationship. Not like we only did it three times with the lights out to get you boys. Why, this one time . . .” She trails off, smiling an evil grin. She knows exactly what she’s doing, that she’s killing a little thread of innocent denial in her boys’ hearts and diverting the conversation. Luckily, in this moment, she’s not my actual mother, so I don’t have to be too weirded out by her proclamation.

We’re quietly thanking the good Lord that we didn’t have to hear about Mama Louise and John’s nonprocreative activities.