Page 157 of Nothing More

“Come on, Miss Cassie, and I’ll introduce you to the missus. You’ve not tasted banana bread until you’ve had hers.”

Off to her left, Shep had his hands shoved in his pockets, shooting Reese and Tenny a sideways glance that left her wondering if she’d need to have a few sharp words with him at some point. Reese had managed to kick Tenny in the back of the knee as they walked, and nearly sent both of them sprawling. “Oh, youtit…” Tenny said, laughing.

The crunch of gravel and a whiff of masculine shampoo to her right left her heart leaping on instinct.Toly. Would he shake her off if she slid her arm through his? But her blooming smile froze on her lips when she saw it was Miles who’d fallen into step beside her instead.

“I hope their wifi is as good as at home,” Miles said, oblivious to her disappointment.

“I’m sure it is. Go on.” She motioned him ahead of her; paused at the foot of the porch steps and turned back. She could hear Bennet’s wife greeting Cass warmly, and the murmur of more voices from inside.

Toly was following, but at a distance, and slowly. The breeze had swept his hair across his face, obscuring his expression. He had one hand in his jacket pocket, the other clutching the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. He looked…lesser. Made smaller beneath a great weight.

Oh, darling, she thought, a vicious pang of sympathy welling up at the base of her throat, burning her eyes.

He had almost reached her before he lifted his face and noticed she’d hung back for him. He halted. Tipped his head so the breeze could sweep his hair back out of his face. His eyes were black in the moonlight, impossible to read.

Raven didn’t want this to be the end. She wasn’t remotely ready to write it off as a quick fling and move on. If it was doomed, she was going to cling to it until the very last; go down with the ship and all of that. She’d grab a life jacket when she had to, when it came time for bullets and hard calls. She wanted Charlie here with her, sudden and fierce, but perhaps Tenny would do, when she sat down with a bottle, and wallowed in her own stupidity. When a bare bulb overhead and a brother’s cocked eyebrow, and dry wit were necessary medicine.

But not now. Now, she put on a smile and said, “Care to give me the grand tour?”

He watched her a moment, head tilting another fraction, as though she was an alien being he couldn’t make sense of. No doubt he could tell her cheer was forced, but he didn’t comment on it. Merely nodded. “Sure.”

She held out her hand, and after another beat, he took it.

She couldn’t help but notice his palm was clammy.

~*~

It became quickly apparent that Joanna Bennet was the mastermind behind the clubhouse’s Christmas magic. Raven remembered it being a handsome house, newly renovated after the explosion that had killed their last president, historical details lovingly preserved by skilled contractors. Now, it had been transformed with a tree in every room, each of themthemed. There was lit garland on the mantel, and on the tops of the kitchen cabinets. Potted poinsettias, and holiday throw blankets over the backs of the sofas. Lights…everywhere. Raven had never seen so many lights outside of a Harrod’s display. The place smelled of cinnamon, and cloves, and Bing Crosby sang softly through a hidden sound system.

It could have been overkill, overwhelming, but instead it was a welcome distraction. Tenny had been right: it was a bit like stepping into a movie, the sort of movie with happy-ending kisses, and tree lightings, and hot cocoa carts on every corner. Raven wasn’t normally into that sort of thing, but right now, it felt necessary.

Toly’s tour was put off by Joanna exclaiming over them.

“Well, aren’t you just the prettiest thing!” to Cass.

And a big gasp for Raven, hand at her throat and everything. “Oh my God, I have your perfume!”

“It’s not my perfume, really. I only did the advert.” But that didn’t seem to matter.

It was a flurry of welcome, and Raven found herself standing awkwardly at the kitchen island, glass of wine in her hand, trying to remember the names of the old ladies Joanna had introduced her to a moment before. She knew Teresa, and Tracy…was that one Cindy? She thought the one with the bright hair was Magenta, but surely that wasn’t right.

Of Cass, Toly, Miles, Reese, and Tenny there was no sign. She prayed at least one of them – Reese, most likely, given he was the most adult of them (terrifying) – would keep Cass from eloping with a biker before she could catch up with her.

“So, Raven.” Definitely Teresa leaned down onto the island, between two platters heaped with biscuits – er, well,cookies– and gave her a sly, twinkling look that could only mean trouble. “Jo said that Bennet said that you and Toly are…” She waggled her eyebrows. “Huh? Is that true?”

Raven swore she couldheareveryone else lean in: the rustle of clothes, the drawing in of breath. It was horrible to realize that she’d never done this: stood around with the old ladies – of any chapter – whether as a guest, or as one of them. The club belonged to the boys, yes, but the women formed an informal club of the their own. Theirs was a unique experience, loving a man who might die one day in a shootout; who might wind up on the evening news; who might go to prison. Raven had always been known to the club, always breezed in and out to see one of her brothers; had gotten to know many of the London and even a few American members along the way.

But she’d never been one of the women. She didn’t have a clue how to be one of them. Felt now like a butterfly specimen, wings pinned down for examination.

“Don’t harass her about it,” Joanna said, but the gleam in her eyes said she was dying to know details.

One of the others – Maybe Cindy – said, “Toly’s just so…” She made a face that was probably supposed to be an imitation of Toly’s flat look of disinterest, but the effect was ruined by her glue-on lashes and blue eye shadow. “Did you ask him out? I totally can’t see him being the one to ask. He doesn’t even look twice at the Lean Bitches.”

“Cin!” the woman beside her hissed. Magenta – her hair was magenta, at least, so Raven was going to go with that until she learned differently.

First, though, she was going to take three long, healthy swallows of wine and try to get her bearings. She refused to be terrified by gossip.

“I suppose you could say that,” she said, aiming for breezy. Threw in a shrug for effect. “We’re having fun. You know: seeing where things go.”