Page 3 of Lucky
No one can argue with that.Rafferty walked right up to Tempe—a total stranger in a grocery store—and kissed her as a ruse to throw off a woman who was stalking him.Tempe was all in and went with it, and well… now they’re in love.
I turn to Atlas, the only other guy at the table besides me who is as single as they come.“What about you?Bikinis or brains?”
“It’s all about the laugh,” Atlas says with a firm nod, as if that cannot be argued with.And it can’t, really.“When it’s real.Not performative.”
We all stare at him.
King lifts a skeptical brow.“Performative?Where are you getting these big words?”
Atlas flips him off.
I smirk, swirling the last sip of whiskey in my glass.“You’re all full of shit,” I say.“You want the truth?”
They wait.
“I like them a little chaotic.Funny.Doesn’t take herself too seriously.But also…” I shrug.“Snack-sharing energy.”
“Snack-sharing?”Penn echoes.
“You know,” I say.“The kind of woman who doesn’t judge when you want gas station doughnuts at midnight and maybe even eats the last one without asking but you forgive her anyway.”
Foster chuckles.“You’re romantic in your own broken way.”
I tap my temple.“Layers.”
My phone buzzes on the table and I flip it over, my heart inflating to ten times its normal size.I answer as befits the queen on the other end.“How goes the smartest, funniest, sassiest, most confident and performative woman in the entire world?”
I hear snorts and laughs from the guys as I manage to roll all their favorite qualities onto my mom.“Hi, honey.Are you busy?”
I glance around the table.“Nope.Completely free to talk.”
“Mama Branson?”Rafferty asks with a twinkle in his eye.
I nod.
“Oh, hell yes,” King says.“Put her on speaker.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on,” Atlas urges.“We love Mama Branson.”
“And she loves you,” I say dryly, because she’s sort of become a mom to all the guys since she visits me often.“Me?Jury’s still out.”
I keep the phone pressed to my ear.“Hey, Ma.I’m out with the guys.Everything okay?”
Her voice is bright and full of warmth.“Oh, I’m just checking in.Put me on speaker.”
I groan but don’t think of disobeying her.Her Italian blood runs between aggressively loving and viciously protective.I put the phone in the middle of the table and tap the button that opens the conversation to everyone.“The gang’s all here,” I tell her.
“Hi, boys,” she croons, and they all shout out their greetings.
“So, what’s up, Ma?”
“Oh,” she says with the slight surprise of someone who had forgotten they had a mission.“I saw your new TikTok.Why are you in a bathroom again?”
Rafferty snickers.“It’s where the best acoustics are,” he provides.
My mom giggles like a schoolgirl.“Well, you look handsome as ever, Matty.But stop squinting.You’ll get forehead lines.”
