Dream Maker (Dream Team 1)

She jerked her head to a doorway, set her container of cookies down on a table close to her chair, and then looked at Lottie.

“So you’re the mastermind behind this?” she asked, tossing a hand at Mag and Evie.

“Yup,” Lottie answered casually.

Gert was about to say more, but her gaze fell on Evie in the brightly lit room, her face lost some color and her eyes narrowed.

“What on earth? What happened to your eyezzzz. Plural!”

“I was kidnapped,” Evie shared openly. “That’s why Danny’s arm is in a sling. The guy had to shoot him to get to me. But he didn’t have me for long before Danny and the boys saved me.” She threw a hand out to the guys. “And Gert, they used smoke grenades. It was pretty rad.”

Gert sat there, the ornery woman façade shocked clean out of her, and she did it staring at Evan.

“It’s okay, I’m safe,” Evie assured, leading Mag to an open armchair and sitting him in it. She sat on the arm at his side, and she did all of this talking. “They have me under constant guard.”

The shock left Gert, and anger replaced it.

“Your brother,” Gert bit out.

Evie was about to speak but Mag got there first.

“Her brother,” he confirmed.

“That boy’s a bad seed,” she snapped at Mag.

“That wasn’t lost on me,” Mag told her.

“I keep tellin’ her, he’s a waste of effort.” Gert was still talking to Mag.

“Think with his latest, he’s made that clear to Evie.”

“The dad’s not much better,” Gert decreed.

“I’ve learned that too,” Mag replied.

“And the mom’s a piece of work,” Gert kept on.

“She’s my least favorite,” Mag shared.

Gert’s eyebrows stretched way up when she heard that, and she tried to fight it, but approval started seeping into her expression, because no one knew better than a mother how uncool it was to be a bad mother.

Then she studied him.

Her voice was softer when she asked, “You got shot protecting Evan?”

Totally, taking that bullet had a number of pluses.

“Not my finest hour seein’ as he got to her.”

“If there’s an A for effort, son, gettin’ shot for your girl is it.”

Mag said nothing.

“I fell in love with a boy with a mess a’ hair who was lazy with a razor,” she imparted. “Married him. He spent forty-five years drivin’ me up the wall. He’s been dead the last ten and I miss him every day.”

After delivering what Mag guessed was her official seal, she looked to Lottie.

“Where’s the girls for the rest of these buggers?” she asked. “I wanna look ’em over.”

It seemed Lottie and Gert had been talking, with Lottie doing a lot of sharing.

“They’re working tonight, Gert,” Lottie told her.

“Well, we best arrange something,” Gert returned. “Says a lot about a man, his buddy gets shot and the next thing, he’s off throwin’ smoke bombs to rescue his friend’s girl. Boys like that, these girls gotta be right.”

“I did take that into account when I made my matches,” Lottie noted.

Gert nodded but she did it in a way she wasn’t actually agreeing.

“I can tell you got a head on your shoulders, gal, but you don’t got enough life under your belt. This means I’ll be in that bookstore drinkin’ one of your stepdad’s coffees. When I’m there, those girls better be in there so I can check ’em out.”

“We’ll arrange that,” Lottie agreed.

Evie stood and announced, “I’m getting everyone drinks. And Gert, what’s going on with dinner? As you can see, your living room is filled with strapping men and they need to get fed.”

Gert looked to Mag. “Are you actually strapping?”

Mag grinned at her. “I thought I probably shouldn’t meet my girl’s best friend while packing.”

He thought it was a decent joke, but Gert looked horrified and turned her attention to Evie.

“Am I your best friend?” she asked.

“It’s okay if I’m not yours,” Evie said as answer.

But this only served to make Gert look even more horrified.

She turned this on Mag. “See to that, son. I can tell with all this company you’re fillin’ her life up in one way, but a girl needs her girls and those girls should be her own age.”

“There’s no law that says you have to be my age to be my best friend, Gert,” Evie stated.

“Yes, there is,” Gert returned.

Mag aimed his smile at his lap.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Lottie asked.

Mag looked up.

But Lottie’s comment meant Gert turned her attention to Lottie. “You’re an excellent start but a girl’s gotta have a bunch of girls. Ones who like shoppin’ and others that like martinis and all that other stuff. I seen it on Sex and the City.” She lifted up her hand and counted them down on her fingers. “You gotta have the raunchy one and the prissy one and the professional one and the, I don’t know what that curly-haired one was, maybe the messed-up one ’cause, Lord, that girl could do some stupid things.”