Evin's Fight (Southern Charmers 3)

“Boys, tell me you’ll give me boys.” I bend to Poppy’s ear.

“Can’t promise that.”

“Can’t believe she’s dating.”

“Attending an eighth-grade football game to watch a boy is not considered dating.”

“I don’t like it. Pierce is out of his mind.”

“Pierce is going with her. So is Miller.”

“Don’t care.”

She giggles softly, but something is off. I twist her to me and notice her face pale. “You okay? You barely ate anything.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“That has to be it. My stomach is swirling, my palms are sweating, and my nerves are on overdrive.”

“Because of the family?”

“Maybe? I was relaxed after our day. Then we got to dinner and it all went away.”

“Maya laid it on thick. She’s young and has experienced nothing like this. Her exuberance is over the top.”

“It’s flattering. But I want this to be perfect.”

“It will be. You’re working yourself up for nothing. Maybe when you see Dante, it’ll disappear. We threw you off your game tonight, only doing the late show.”

She nods, unconvinced. “I’m running up to the room.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, stay here and get another drink. I’ll hurry, but I need a few minutes to gather myself and refresh.”

“No,” I deadpan.

“Please don’t get upset. I just need to talk to myself.”

“Talk to me.”

“It’s not the same.”

It’s against everything in me to let her go, but she’s got a show, and the last thing I want is to stress her out more. “You have ten minutes. Keep your phone on you. If you need me, call.”

She flashes me a grateful grin and squeezes my side before scuttling out of the restaurant.

I make my way to the bar, noting the crowd has increased since earlier. A large group of men and women are in a roped-off section that is flanked with suited security. It’s a toss-up between high-rollers or celebrities.

“Hey, man,” the bartender approaches. “The woman in red wants to buy you a drink.”

I spot an attractive brunette staring openly with obvious intent. “Appreciate it, but no thanks. I’ll take a Black Label on the rocks.”

He’s unfazed at my dismissal of the woman, serving my drink and moving to the next customer.

I sip the whiskey, watching the entrance and forcing myself to give Poppy ten minutes of privacy.

“Must say it’s a first for me,” a female voice purrs from behind. I glance over as the woman in red slides onto the empty stool. “Never had a man turn me down for a drink.”

“I’m married.”

“Shame. I spotted you in here last night with your daughter and didn’t see a woman.”

“She’s my niece,” I correct her without thinking.

“Ah, that’s a relief.”

I snap my head to her and, immediately, my skin crawls. Her eyes are filled with heat and familiarity. “Relief?”

She shrugs unapologetically. “Kids aren’t my gig.”

I shoot back the whiskey, ready to make my exit when she puts her hand on my arm. “Don’t get defensive. I’m in town for a few days if you change your mind about that drink.”

“Woman, I have no interest in sharing space with you, much less a drink.”

“My name is Nat—”

“Natasha,” the pained voice spears through me, and I whip around to find Poppy. All the color is drained from her face and she’s staring at the woman with such hatred it fills the air.

Natasha… Tasha.

Realization slams into me, my glass goes down, and the next second Poppy’s shielded in my arms.

“Poppy, let’s go.”

Tasha’s evil and ugly cackle flows loudly, people turning to gape at us. “Poppy? Fuck me, always the ass kisser. They’re gone, Caitlyn. You think Grandma and Grandpa are coming back from the dead to praise you more for taking on their pet fucking name?”

“Bitch, watch your fucking self.”

Her eyes come back to mine, and my blood runs cold. She has no problem roving them up and down before licking her lips. “You’re scrumptious.”

Poppy’s body convulses, and I growl, “We’re out of here.”

“What? No family reunion?”

“Why are you here?” Poppy’s voice is strained, yet strong. She grabs onto my arm, and Tasha’s gaze falls to her hand.

“Jesus, you’re wearing the ring too? You must really think he’s special.”

“He’s my fucking husband!” Poppy screeches.

“Ugh, figured that out. And the flowers in the hair? The whole boho thing is cute, but men grow out of cute. Especially a man like this. You should have let me give you sisterly lessons.”

At this, I’m done, barely holding on to my rage as I bend to haul her into my arms.

“What the hell is going on?” A clipped male voice stops me, and I’m staring at none other than Isaac Blake. “Are you causing problems, Natasha?”

“You remember Caitlyn, don’t you, babe?” Tasha answers him sweetly.

His head swings to my arms, and his face transforms in a way that blisters inside. “Caitlyn?”

“Oh, she goes by Poppy now,” Tasha goads. “Can you imagine?”

“Poppy? From your grandparents? That’s beautiful.”

Now the rage fuels into fury as I press her into me. “Shut your fucking mouth.”