One Wicked Lick from the Drummer (The One 3)

Evie leaned into him. “I’ll talk to Jay. He’ll understand.”

“Not about that. About me?”

Evie pushed away with an annoyed grunt. “This is very much not about you.”

He stroked the dog’s ear. “I get that, but Evie, you and Jay and Teela and Haydn, you guys were the reason I stopped hooking up, stopped treating relationships as entertainment. You’re the reason I want to be with Mena, like permanently. All the noise in your lives, all the distractions and you guys found each other. Haydn moved to Sydney for Teela. Jay looks at you as if you are his own personal earth, wind and fire. You’re in here with dogs instead of out there marrying the only man you ever loved and it’s not like you didn’t try to get over him. If you guys can’t get it right, me,” he tapped his chest, “I’ve got no chance, and I found someone I want that chance with.”

Evie opened her mouth to reply and there was a knock at the door before it opened and the one-eyed poodle walked in, Jay at its heels.

“Hi,” Jay said to Evie as the poodle sniffed the lab’s arse.

Incredible that despite the dog antics, the way Jay looked at Evie, the way his voice dipped low on that one word, the way Evie’s face lit up, it was a fucking romantic moment. Made Grip get all thick in the throat.

“What do you want, Evie?” Jay said.

“You first?” she hedged.

“You, always, anyway you want to serve it up,” Jay said.

Evie made a sound like a wounded thing.

Grip coughed into his closed fist. “Am I in the way?”

“We’d probably be fucking now if you weren’t here,” Evie said, “but this is Teela’s bed so just as well you are.”

He sighed. “You told me all I had to do was hold the ring, give the signal you were both ready, cue in the celebrant. You did not tell me you were going to burn the whole thing down. I don’t have instructions for that.”

“We’re not, we’re just—”

He cut Evie off. “Chicken shit. You’re chicken shit and I’m chicken shit too.” He pushed the lab’s head off his lap and stood. “Wait here, all of you.” He went to the door and tossed over his shoulder. “And don’t be fucking when I get back.”

He tried not to look hassled when he got to the deck. He tried not to look anyone in the eye, because he had one mission, and Abel foiled him by grabbing his shoulder and grinning at him. He wore a slick black suit with his own label designer sneakers and vampire teeth.

“Whath the hold up,” he lisped.

Arrayed behind him were Isaac and Oscar, also wearing vampiric grimaces. Oz had gone all out with a red cape.

“What’s with the—?” Grip tapped his own teeth. Nothing he’d read about bridesmaid and best man duties said anything about guests wearing fake teeth. They didn’t tell you how to call off a wedding either.

“To make Evie laugh,” Abel said, following it up with a horror movie cackle that had heads turning and made his plastic teeth fall out. He shoved them back in and said, “Theriouthly, whath going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Thomthing.”

Over Abel’s head Grip spied Mena’s bestie Vera in a gold lame Snuggie.

“It’s a dress thing,” he said and stepped around Abel making for the shimmer of Vera, hoping Mena was close by because talking to Vera without sunnies on would be a challenge.

Mena got to him before he was voluntarily blinded. She put one hand in his and the other on his cheek. “Are you all right?”

He would be. He felt his face unfold, all the frown lines, the squint eye and jaw tension melted away. He could make this work because he could make anything work when he was close to Mena.

“You look amazing in that suit. I can think of ten things I want to do to you while you’re wearing it and none of them include tying you up or maiming you,” she said.

“How many include Florence?”

She shifted closer and he bent to let her nuzzle his face. “As many as you want.”