Page 85 of A Vine Mess
“That’ll be another one,” Birdie said, leaving the room to go greet one of her sons.
“Which one is that?” Ella asked, jerking her head in that general direction.
“Crew,” West told her. He flicked his wrist to check his watch, and I couldn’t help notice the ink stretching up into his shirt. “Which means Trey will be here any second.”
“How many of my shithead baby brothers are already here?” another voice asked from the kitchen, and West smirked as if to say,told ya.
I nodded at West’s arms. “You’ve got ink?” I asked, rolling up my own sleeves.
West pushed his long-sleeved tee to his elbows, and I whistledlow at the tattoos covering both of them, cutting off abruptly at his wrists, which told me they likely went all the way to his shoulders in full sleeves.
“We all do,” Finn said, following suit. “Except Aria, our sister. And Owen only has a few, but…well, you’ll see.”
Two more men shuffled into the room behind their mother, and it was obvious they were all related. The same dirty blond hair, exact same shade of blue eyes.
I knew I’d met them at the distillery opening briefly, but there were so many it was hard to keep track. I was grateful when the shorter of the two—which wasn’t saying much since they were all over six feet tall—extended a hand and introduced himself as Crew. His hair was buzzed on the sides but long and floppy on the top, still wet from a recent shower, his tattoos stretching all the way to his fingers. The smell of something burnt followed in his wake.
“Sorry I couldn’t help cook,” he told his mom as he skirted the table to sit beside West. “I got a call out right before shift ended, and it took nearly six hours to knock it down.”
“Crew is a firefighter,” Birdie explained to us.
“Explains the smoke smell,” Ella said, then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Shit, sorry.”
Crew only barked out a laugh and waved her off. “It’s fine. That shit clings to you. It’s just part of my DNA now.”
“A real smoke-eater,” West said, clapping his brother on the shoulder.
Birdie whirled on Trey. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”
“Surveillance.”
“You’re the cop?” I asked.
Trey shook his head, grabbing the seat next to Crew. “Nah, that’s Lane. I own a small private security company, and I was keeping an eye on a client’s property. He’s been out of town and having some issues with vandals.”
“You catch the little shits?” a new voice asked from the doorway, and we all whirled to find a tall, broad man in a black sheriff’s uniform standing there.
“Nope,” Trey told him. “You’ll be the first call when I do.”
“I damn well better be. I’d hate to have to arrest you for obstruction.”
Trey rolled his eyes, muttering, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
The Lawless men burst into laughter, “remember when” stories immediately flying through the air. Under the table, Ella grabbed my hand as we silently watched the commotion.
“What set them off this time?” a feminine voice asked from next to me.
As though she’d appeared out of nowhere, a young girl who couldn’t have been more than her early twenties sat next to me.
Ella leaned forward, peering around me, and said, “Hi, Aria.”
The girl grinned. “How’s my big bro doing?”
“He’s good,” Ella replied. “Things are picking up at the distillery now that Memorial Day is getting closer, so he and Delia are busy.”
Aria’s smile flattened a little. “Explains why he hasn’t called in a week.”
Ella grimaced. “Sorry, kid. But you’ve got me and Liam to keep you company!”
