Page 52 of Badd Daddy
He glanced at me sidelong. “I can’t give you a polite response on that one.”
I waved a hand. “I’ve been pretty self-absorbed.” I laughed bitterly. “Or, rather, avoiding all of you because I don’t know how to handle any of this.”
“Hey, at least you’re honest.” He patted my shoulder. “Enough serious bullshit. Let’s introduce you to eleven of the most beautiful women in Alaska.”
I laughed, following him further into the bar. “I know some of ’em. Izzy, Juneau, and Kitty, mainly.”
What followed then was a whirlwind of introductions and conversation. I chatted with Dru, who looked like she was about to pop any day, and a breathtaking young woman named Eva, who was married to Baxter, and Claire, who was almost as foul-mouthed and inappropriate as me. I talked to Brock, the twins—both sets: my nephews Canaan and Corin, Canaan being the one who’d been playing on stage when we arrived, and their wives, Aerie and Tate. Bast made me feel welcome and at home, and at the end of an hour or two, I felt like I knew everyone by name and face, and felt a growing kinship with most of them. Liv had somehow gotten dragged into my orbit at some point, and was never far from me, although she was always engaged in lively conversation with someone, perfectly at ease. Her eyes followed me, though, as did Roman’s.
She angled over to me when we’d been there at least an hour and a half, cornering me against the service bar, placing a hand on my forearm and disarming me with a sweet smile. “You promised me food, Lucas.”
“My stomach is about to eat me from the inside out, I think,” I said, trying to pretend I wasn’t melting inside from the feel of her hand on my arm and the blistering heat of her sweet smile. “Sorry. I got caught up in gettin’ to know my nephews and…nieces-in-law, I think they’d be.”
We went into the kitchen, a brightly lit industrial space of polished stainless steel. The smell of food was mouthwatering—there were trays lined up on the counter containing chicken strips, mozzarella sticks, cheeseburger patties, hot dogs, French fries, sweet potato fries, and chicken wings, each tray kept hot with those cans of fire. There was a salad bar: a bowl of mixed greens and bowls containing diced green, red, yellow, and orange peppers, carrot, cucumber, celery, and tomato slices, bacon bits, shredded chicken, and shredded cheese; there were other trays containing baked salmon steaks, grilled chicken breasts, several racks of barbecue ribs, even slices of perfectly cooked prime rib.
Liv and I loaded up our plates, and we found spots at the bar and dug in.
Zane was on the other side of the bar from me, sipping a dark beer, eying me. “Uncle Lucas.”
I nodded at him. “Zane.” I gestured at the kitchen with my fork. “Hell of a spread ya’ll put out.”
He nodded. “That would be compliments of Xavier, Ramsey, and Dru. They spend all day Saturday prepping all that food, and most of Sunday morning cooking it.”
I blinked at him. “Ramsey?”
Zane snorted, a small grin on his face. “Yeah, Ramsey, your son. He’s a hell of a cook.”
I leaned back on my stool. “Ram! C’mere, boy.”
He moved to his feet gracefully, and swaggered toward me, leaning his forearms on the back of my stool—it wasn’t actually a stool, it was a tall chair with a high back on a swiveling seat. “What’s up, Pop?”
“I didn’t know you cooked.” I indicated Zane. “He says you help put out the spread of food in there.”
He shrugged. “I do okay.”
“What did you make?”
He reached over my shoulder, stole my fork, and speared a chunk of salmon. “I do the meat. Grill the burgers, dogs, and chicken, season and bake the salmon, and the prime rib. Xavier does the fried stuff, and Dru does the salad bar.”
I took my fork back and sampled the salmon, and then the prime rib. “Well damn, son. I had no idea.”
He tried to hide it, but his expression darkened. “I had to learn.”
I kept my gaze on the food on my plate, noting the sudden silence around me as those listening in to the conversation held their breaths at the subtle but definite dig at me.
“Yeah, you did,” I said. “I never was much of a cook.”
Ramsey’s hands tightened on the chair back. “Hard to cook when you’re wasted all the time.”
I gripped my fork so hard I felt it bending. “Ram, c’mon. Not here, not now.”
Liv bumped my knee with hers. “Lucas, you know…it’s none of my business, but sometimes you just have to face things head-on, whether it’s a good time or not.”
Zane crossed his arms over his chest, and his eyes narrowed. “Well shit, then. If you’re facing things head-on, I’d like to know what the fuck happened between you, Dad, and Mom. Rome seemed to know something, but it was nowhere near as much as we deserve to know.”
I scrubbed my face with both hands. “God fucking damn it.”
Liv rubbed my shoulder gently. “It’s okay, Lucas.”