Page 4 of Gator (Bourbon Kings MC #1)

Rosewood, Virginia, Beth’s Coffee Shop...

“You wanna tell me what the hell is going on with you now that Dr. Yummy Pants carried off Josie like a man on a mission?” Morgan asked, leaning back in the booth, looking at me over her cup of coffee. “And don’t give me any of your melodramatic crap. Just tell me flat. My head is pounding.”

“That’s because you’re still drunk.”

Narrowing her eyes, Morgan glared. “And why aren’t you? I saw you drinking last night.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“And here comes the drama,” she murmured.

Sighing, I laid my head down on the table and wailed, “That fucking Cajun, no good, sweet-talking bastard got me pregnant with a pod of hatchlings!”

“A what?”

“A pod of hatchlings. It’s what it’s called when an alligator has hatchlings. I looked it up. Apparently, she lays eggs, and when they hatch, they are called hatchlings. All together, they are called a pod. Oh God, he turned me into a pod person!” I whined, banging my head on the table.

“Thanks for the National Geographic lesson, Steve Irwin, but can we get back to reality here? So you’re pregnant. Having a kid isn’t the end of the world, Devlyn.”

Lifting my head, I looked at Morgan and said, “Three kids.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m having three babies. I have three hatchlings swimming around inside me, using my uterus as their own personal bayou, and their leader is off doing God knows what.”

“Then call and tell him,” my so-called best friend said.

That was her advice? Call him!

“I’d rather straddle an electric fence soaking wet than tell him he got me pregnant.”

“Jesus, that was graphic.”

“God, Morgan. What am I going to do?”

“Well, first, you are going to stop whining, pull up your big girl panties, and get your shit together. So no more binge-watching Game of Thrones. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but Jon Snow isn’t coming to rescue you.

Oh, and while you’re at it, throw away that stupid Eiffel Tower you’re making, or at least make some damn spaghetti with the noodles.

Then you are going to march your ass back over to city hall and get your job back, ’cause, honey, you are going to need the income.

Playtime is over, Dev. Time to grow up and be responsible. ”

“Says the woman who only two days ago bought a dress off eBay with no place to wear it.”

“It’s vintage!”

“Look, Morgan, I hear you.” I sighed, sitting back in the booth. “I need to start making better decisions. I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“No one ever is,” she whispered, looking down at her cup.

I’d known Morgan my whole life. We grew up together, even graduated high school together.

I thought we’d be roommates in college, but Morgan got accepted into her dream college, the University of Arkansas.

Go Razorbacks! When she returned to Rosewood afterward, there was something different about Morgan that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

It was almost as if she were lonely, yet scared, but I’d never known Morgan to be scared of anything in her life.

For several months after her return, I watched as she constantly looked over her shoulder and jumped at random noises.

When I asked about her time in Arkansas, she told me to forget about it, that she had the typical college experience and it wasn’t anything to write home about.

Knowing she’d dug in her heels, I left it alone and soon we were back to our old normal cranky, snarky selves.

The town was buzzing.

It didn’t matter where I went or who I spoke to, all anyone could talk about was the upcoming wedding of LeeAnn McDonald and the very rich widower, Jack Orlean, the owner of the lustrous Rosewood Ski Resort.

Now typically, a wedding wouldn’t have everyone scrambling for the latest gossip, but this wasn’t just any wedding.

The bride, LeeAnn, was what some people would call a serial bride.

The woman had already been married like a hundred times and from what Laurel, that’s LeeAnn’s daughter and owner of the Comic Store, told me, this was going to be like LeeAnn’s sixth or tenth wedding, I wasn’t sure.

But the drama started when LeeAnn was engaged to Mr. Munson, the former owner of the Rosewood Trailer Park.

You see, he died three weeks before the ‘ I do’s’ , leaving LeeAnn with a full Southern wedding and no groom.

That’s when Jack Orlean stepped in. From what I heard, the couple met the same day poor Mr. Munson kicked the bucket.

Well, as the story goes, sparks erupted, and the angels sang from the heavens, and that was all Cupid wrote, because twenty-four hours after Mr. Munson’s funeral, the wedding bells were ringing again, only this time the groom was Jack Orlean.

Walking into the Rosewood Ski Resort, I smiled. I could hear the commotion from the ballroom all the way out in the lobby.

Poor Josie had her hands full, that was for sure.

As the manager, Josephine Hennessy, Jack’s only daughter, spent most of her waking days tending to guests of the resort and now overseeing all the wedding preparations.

More importantly, since she was close to the action, she was an excellent source of the current gossip.

Needing anything to take my mind off my current situation, I found Josie standing near the ballroom doors, slowly shaking her head as she looked at the folder in her hands.

The second I stepped inside the ballroom, I heard a loud, ear-piercing whistle that stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Listen up, children,” the bride snapped as the room fell silent. “If any of you mess up my wedding, there will be hell to pay. Do you hear me?”

“Isn’t this?” I vaguely heard Gunner whisper to Banks. “What, like her fifteenth wedding?”

Banks snickered.

“BOYS!” LeeAnn snapped at the two men, who both had the good grace God gave them to snap to and shut the hell up.

“Remind me to patch you into the club after this is all over.” King chuckled and as soon as everyone calmed down, the wedding planner jumped in and took over. “It’s two weeks before the wedding and we have a lot to cover today. So let’s get started.”

Tuning everyone out, I walked over to stand next to Josie and whispered, “This is going to be pure chaos.”

“Yep.”

“Where are the brats?”

“Granny took them for the day so they wouldn’t be underfoot. They will be back before dinner,” she said, jotting down a few notes before asking, “Why aren’t you over with the others, paying attention?”

“Because I’m not in the wedding. I’m just here for the laughs.”

“Well, there’s guaranteed to be plenty of those.”

“I still can’t believe LeeAnn got King to walk her down the aisle.”

“She got everyone. Kids included.”

“Good God,” I groaned. “It’s going to be a three-ringed circus.”

“Nope. Just a true Southern wedding. Everyone takes part.”

“So who’s the hottie talking to Jack?” I asked.

Looking up as her eyes scanned the room, she groaned, “My cousin.”

“He’s yummy.”

“He’s taken.”

“I don’t see a ring.”

“Best leave that one alone, Dev. Trust me.”

“Oh well.” I shrugged. “Heard Trip is going to be released in a few days. Still can’t believe that idiot finally woke up. Should have known he’d never miss a party. So how did the talk go with George?”

Snapping her folder closed, she sighed. “It didn’t.”

“What do you mean? I thought you went to the barbeque,” I asked, glaring at my friend.

“I did go.”

“Then what happened?”

Poor Josie had been head over heels for the town’s scrumptious Dr. Feelgood and, if my source was correct, which he was, the good doctor felt the same way.

Anyway, both idiots friend-zoned each other and both were too damn chickenshit to do anything about it.

Well, fate stepped in after Mr. Munson’s funeral.

After some steady drinking and a heartfelt talk, the two lovebirds did the nasty, and all was well, until Josie friend-zoned the good doctor again.

When my all-knowing source confided in me, myself and a few others cornered Josie to find out what gives.

After a heartfelt talk, Josie was supposed to attend the Sons of Hell barbeque and set things right with Dr. Feelgood, but like most things in this town, shit hit the fan and drama ensued.

“Craaap.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I got there and managed to say hi before all hell broke loose. I haven’t seen him since.”

“You will see him tonight,” a familiar wispy, soft voice said, and I stiffened. Oh hell no! What the hell was she doing here? I thought she hopped on her broom with the other one and flew far, far away!

“Oh crap!” I gasped, looking around the room for the nearest escape. “Athena? What the hell are you doing here?”

“The planets are merging,” the flighty woman replied, as if that clarified everything.

“Uh-huh,” I whispered, backing away from the woman. “Cool. I need to go. I’ve something to do.”

“Run all you want, Devlyn. He’s coming for you.”

“The hell he is!” I snapped, running from the ballroom as if my ass were on fire.