Page 15 of Property of Riptide
“As long as you understand that we will be referring to him as that to balance things out, we’ll be good,” Rio adds.
“He deserves his own nickname from his uncles,” she states, a slight smile curving her lips upward. “So I’m good with it. I won’t give you any shit over it, I promise.”
“Now that we’re on the same page, we’ll see you tonight,” Rio tells her as he stands from his squatted position.
“Tonight,” she says with a bob of her head.
“Later, Van. Bye, little man,” I toss over my shoulder as we head for the exit. I don’t know what it is about her that calls to me on a molecular level, but I can’t wait to find out—starting tonight.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Van
As I prop Gagey on my hip and walk around toward the back, a smile splits my face. They said to follow the blasting tunes, but what they didn’t tell me is that it’d sound as if a concert was taking place on the premises. So far, from what I’ve heard, it’s an eclectic blend of soundtracks. As I drove up, I heard some AC/DC playing, and now, Tim McGraw is up on the menu and blasting his way through the speakers, singing about the highway not caring. The bass is vibrating the ground, I guess it’s a damn good thing they don’t have to worry about neighbors calling in a nuisance report.
“You made it!” Issy proclaims, walking out the backdoor ladened down with bowls in her arms and chip bags dangling between her fingers.
“I did. Do you need help with that?” I can’t imagine how she’s managing. Even with the waitressing I did in high school, I wouldn’t be able to manage the load she’s carting around. Even back then I would’ve struggled.
“Nope. I’ve got this. It’s not my first time and I promise, it won’t be my last,” she replies, making googly faces at Gagey.
When my boy gurgles at her, trying to communicate with her that he likes what she’s doing, she laughs. “He’s easily entertained, isn’t he?”
“He is. From what I’ve been told from the mother groups I’m in on social media, he’s a blessing,” I comment. “I’m not sure what I did in another life to end up with such a good baby, but I’ll take it.”
“He’s just good natured like his momma. Aren’t you, little G?” Issy asks him, her voice turning from a clear speech pattern to a cooing one.
“You too?” I ask, shaking my head while laughing. “He’s brainwashed you.”
“Nah, but you have to admit, it’s catchy,” she rebuts, a smile stretching across her face.
I won’t admit it out loud because that’d be stroking her man’s ego, but it really is. I may have to adopt it when we’re not here to where he can overhear me using it. “Maybe.”
“You like it don’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll keep my lips zipped and won’t tell him you do,” she states, her smile broadening.
“I’m going to plead the fifth,” I respond as we make it to the table where food is spread out on it. “Wow. Y’all went all out.”
“Believe it or not, this is nothing compared to most of our parties,” she says, waving her now free hands around. “You should come visit when we have something planned, we cook enough to feed an army and then some.”
“Do you ever have any leftovers?” I ask, my eyes widening at the mental picture she just provided. There’s an abundance of food piled on top of food, so I can’t imagine there being more, especially since none of the barbecue has been pulled off the grill and added to the picnic table.
Off to the side, an excited little girl squeals which has me rounding in a semi-circle until I find the culprit. “Mama! She has a baby!”
“Yes, she does, baby girl,” the woman confirms as she sticks out her hand saying, “I’m Zoey. I belong to that one.” I follow her finger and see a man standing next to Riptide, the two of them look like they’re in the middle of a deep conversation. “This enthusiastic one is my daughter, Elodie.”
A man, who resembles a Viking, braids and all, and who must’ve been hiding in the depths of the shadows pops out of nowhere scaring the beejesus out of me. His voice is dark and menacing as he says, “Princess, you’re not supposed to talk to strangers.” What has me internally freaking out is that he’s looking at me as if it’s my fault she came up and spoke to me. But truthfully, it wasn’t me she was talking to, it was her mother, so I’m innocent in this.
“But Uncle Icer, my daddy says you’re strange and I talk to you. Lots,” she excuses, sticking out her bottom lip. “And I want to play with the baby.”
My eyes widen, I’m suddenly frightened for an entirely different reason altogether. Men like him don’t like to be belittled in any way, shape, or form, and this kiddo just basically did that and more. I start to glide in front of her to protect her from his wrath, but something unbelievable happens, the man’s eyes soften and if he were an animal, I’d swear under oath that hestarts purring. I glance at Issy with a ‘what the fuck’ look and she rolls her eyes at me, mouthing, ‘he’s a softie’. I snort because her assessment of him and mine are completely on different sides of the spectrum.
“Who are you?” the man, Icer, asks. The way he invades my personal space has me backpedaling. He’s leaning into me which has me curving my back and tucking my son closer to my chest. “Don’t know you. Why are you here?”
“Back off, Icer,” I hear growled. I twist my head and notice Riptide, as well as the man Zoey said was hers, standing there with their arms crossed and a no nonsense look on their faces. They’re just as intimidating as the blond Viking jackass is. It seems around these parts, the bigger they are the more obvious the asshole gene is.
“Tell me who she is first,” this Icer guy demands.
