It’s strange on him. New. Heavy. Not a title he earned in blood at a table or a patch he took in front of men. Something softer, older, and more terrifying because it asks for more than loyalty.
It asks for tenderness.
Hudson Welles would rather take a bullet.
He looks down at me. “You make it sound like I’ve already decided she’s mine.”
“You did when you said she could stay.”
“That was protection.”
“Sometimes protection is the first language men like you learn before love.”
His mouth curves without humor. “Men like me.”
“Yes.”
“Dangerous men?”
“Stubborn ones.”
“I’m dangerous.”
“I know. I chose you on purpose.”
That gets me the smallest smile.
I take it.
Across the room, Brittany and Lottie come in from the kitchen with a paper bag, a notebook, and the determined expressions of women who have found a mission.
Lottie holds up the bag. “Toothbrushes, kid shampoo, crackers, and three juice boxes we found in the back pantry that may or may not be expired.”
“Don’t give expired juice to the child,” I say.
“They’re only a month past.”
“Lottie. We’ll go to the Piggly Wiggly in the morning.”
“Fine. I’ll drink them.”
Brittany waves the notebook. “I made a list for morning. Clothes for the boy, socks, underwear, pajamas, snacks, maybe a booster seat if hers is bad, and dinosaurs.”
Legend blinks. “Dinosaurs?”
“Derby promised.”
Legend closes his eyes like the night has finally defeated him.
Whiskey smiles into his glass.
Royal says, “I’d like to witness that shopping trip.”
“No one is tormenting Derby tomorrow,” I say.
Lottie looks personally wounded. “Then why did God let me live this long?”
I almost laugh.