Evin's Fight (Southern Charmers 3)

He shakes his head, finally looking at me, and when he does, his eyes go sharp. “Who are you?”

“I’m her husband.”

“Husband?”

“Yes, my husband,” Poppy responds firmly.

He levels his glare at Tasha. “Your sister doesn’t look sick to me.”

“She wears flowers in her hair that’s four different colors and performs in a three-ring circus. I consider that sick,” she replies snidely, casting her eyes back to Poppy. “Gotta say, when I heard rumors you were working in Vegas, I assumed you were working a pole.”

The smugness in her tone and malicious delight in her eyes confirms my suspicions. This is no coincidence, and she didn’t hear any rumors. This entire run-in is intentional. Natasha Bindel has an agenda.

My vision goes red.

“I’ve never been sick, Isaac.” Poppy’s voice gains strength along with her body. She holds on to me, but in a more defensive way.

“You are all a bunch of fucking lying assholes,” he spews to Tasha. “Is that why you insisted on coming this weekend? Because you knew Caitlyn was here? I’m done with all of you after the game. No more pretending.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Isaac, until you fall into bed with me again.” Tasha keeps going. “Plus, your relationship with my parents is mutually beneficial.”

“Bitch, I thought with my dick for about two months and cut your ass. Stupidest thing I ever did was lose Caitlyn for a cheap piece of pussy that had more miles than my vintage mustang. The only reason you assholes are in my life is because of the monumental guilt trip you laid on me.”

I take in the scene.

Tasha’s face flames with anger and jealousy.

Isaac staring at Poppy like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

Then I feel it.

Redemption.

The dipshit doesn’t deserve to breathe her air, but it feels good to know he figured out his mistake quickly and lives with it.

“She’s mine,” I growl.

His eyes fly to me, and he gets it. Pain, regret, and a dozen other emotions cross his face at the fact that I have the woman he still thinks about fondly.

“You good, Cait—I mean Poppy?” he asks tenderly.

She melts, holding on, and glances at me with peace in her eyes. She got it, too. Her family continued to fuck her, but the man that scarred her realized it and is filled with remorse.

“I’m better than good. I’m never been happier.”

“I’m sorry,” he presses with years of meaning behind his words.

“We’re done,” I announce.

“No, we’re not. Mom and Dad will be here for the game. We need to talk.” Tasha addresses Poppy, obviously thinking she has some sort of control.

“Not a chance in hell. Karen and Marco can fuck themselves. I have a lawyer, and one call is all it’ll take. Imagine how Governor Bindel will look with a restraining order on his record.”

This gets her attention, her expression sneering while Isaac barks out a laugh.

“Consider this the end of our arrangement, too. I’m done.”

“Fucking insults to society. I’m out of here. The idea of tapping virgin ass screws with every masculine mind. Never understood the appeal. Call me, Evin, if you decide you want to ride wild.” Tasha stands, staring at her sister with such disgust it scales at my skin.

Poppy lunges, her hand flying fast and connecting with Tasha’s cheek.

Tasha stumbles back, red wine splashing over her. “You useless bitch, this dress cost more than your peasant ass makes in a week.”

Poppy does it again, getting in one more slap before I have her restrained.

Isaac laughs louder as a small trickle of blood pools out of Tasha’s mouth.

“We’re gone.” I guide Poppy to the side at the same time Tasha makes her move, kicking out her foot.

I lose hold as Poppy goes down, catching herself with her arms.

“I’m going to kill her.”

“Let me handle this. Security hauling her out will make my year. A hit to her reputation is like a death stab,” Isaac grumbles and I nod, picking up my wife.

Poppy lets me carry her until I find a small hall and get us alone.

“Baby, you okay?”

She stands, wincing a little but nodding. “I can’t believe I slapped her twice!”

“Yeah, you bitch slapped and drew blood.”

“You didn’t kill Isaac.”

“Wanted to, but hard to kill a man when he’s mourning his shit decisions.”

She giggles, head-planting into my chest.

“You went down hard, how do you feel?”

“Okay, my ankle and heel twisted, but I’ll stretch them out. I’m high on adrenaline right now.”

“Nerves gone?”

“I didn’t go to our room. I walked outside and got some air.”

“Good.”

“She was here for a reason. There are too many luxury hotels in this city for her to conveniently be staying here,” Poppy utters into my shirt, picking up on my suspicions.

“I agree, but we’re not thinking about that.”

She straightens, face and eyes filled with concern. “My estranged sister is in my town, staying in the same hotel, and hitting on my husband. She’s a bitch and highly unpredictable. Doesn’t that worry you?”