“Yeah, baby,” he said. “I’ll dance with you vertically, in the bathroom on the plane on the way to Bermuda.”
This was not the answer she was looking for, therefore she whirled back to Tod and ordered, “Start making calls. It’s over.”
“I’m not… I can’t… it’s…” Tod stammered, hand to his throat, eyes wide and filled with panic. Then he shrieked, “The custom order baby blue, aqua and teal M&M’s have already arrived! There’s nine pounds of them already parceled out and ribboned up for wedding gifts! What am I going to do with nine pounds of baby blue, aqua and teal M&M’s?”
“Give them to me,” Ava retorted. “I intend to eat them all in one sitting.”
“Don’t make any calls, Tod,” Luke contradicted Ava’s order as he also ignored her response to Tod.
Ava again whirled on Luke. “I’m not marrying a man who can’t set aside the badass for three minutes in order to dance at our wedding.”
“Yes you are,” Luke replied.
It was at that, Ava had had enough.
I knew this when she shouted, “I’ve been in love with you since I was eight! And I’ve been dreaming of dancing with you at our wedding,” she leaned toward him, “since I was eight! And if you can’t give me three minutes of that drea—”
She didn’t finish.
This was because Luke’s hand flashed out, caught her behind the neck and pulled her to him so she landed face first in his chest. He then bent his neck and his face disappeared from my view as he spoke in Ava’s ear.
But I saw Ava’s face get soft. Then softer. Then the hands she had curled in his tee at his sides uncurled so she could wrap her arms around him.
Luke’s head lifted.
Ava’s neck twisted so she could look at Tod. “Don’t make any calls, babe.”
Tod heaved an audible sigh of relief prior to collapsing into a chair by his albums.
I did not know if this meant Luke was dancing with Ava at their wedding or not.
I just knew that whatever he said made Ava happy.
And seeing that, thinking on how Eddie was with his pregnant wife, and knowing Mace was standing with Stella only a few feet away and she’d barely been out of the curve of his arm in the fifteen minutes they were, what Ren said in that motel room two days before hit me.
And it hitting me made me reach to my back pocket and pull out my phone. I started it up, touched the button to send a text and typed in, Tonight. Post date. Cowgirl, lotus, doggie. Then I hit send.
With the most recent crisis in Fortnum’s diverted, I shoved my phone back in my pocket and moved out from behind the counter to do a sweep of the tables to gather empties when I heard the store phone ring just as my phone at my ass binged.
I yanked it out and saw I had two texts from Ren.
The first, Not positions. Locations. Stairs. Wall. Bed.
His plan was way better than mine.
The second, Love you, baby.
I smiled and sent back, Back at ‘cha just as Jane called, “Phone for you, Ally.”
My brows drew together as I looked at her.
No one called me there. Not friends, definitely. And my informants and “clients” all knew my cell was the only acceptable form of communication.
I walked to the book counter, took the phone and put it to my ear. “Yo.”
“You want Rosie to stay alive, you deal,” a man’s kinda whiny, definitely weasely voice said to me, and my back went straight. “We want Rosie alive ‘cause we want him growin’ for us. We wanna talk about what it’ll take to buy him outta your protection. You don’t deal, face to face, you comin’ alone, we find a farmer who can take over the crops and his pain in our ass gets dead. You hear me?”
My heart pumping, blood singing, I made a split second decision. I lifted my head and hand and snapped my fingers, my eyes moving from Luke to Mace.
They were both already studying me and they immediately moved my way, their hands going to the back pockets of their jeans.
“You’ll understand I’m not big on a meet seeing as your last approach was detonating a bomb in my apartment,” I replied, eyes to Luke.
“That was before we knew your connections,” the voice returned. “We want no beef with you. We just want Rosie.”
My eyes moving to Mace, I said into the phone, “I may have misunderstood. Do you currently have Rosie?”
“Not yet. But you askin’ that means you don’t either. Which, gotta say, has us confused as to why your crew is searchin’ for him when he has your protection.”
I decided not to share with Lee that these idiots thought his crew was my crew and stated (mostly lying), “Rosie knows I’m not a big fan of explosions. Firefights, okay. Car chases, I dig. Rescues, a specialty. Shattered kneecaps, not my gig, but I got a guy who does that. Everything me or those under my protection owns burning to a cinder, not so much. He brought that down on me, he knows to avoid me for a few days.”