Page 58 of No More Secrets
“Um, yes.” Summer cast a furtive glance in Joey’s direction. “We are.”
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Carter texted Beckett about poker and put him in charge of contacting the usual suspects. He caught up with Jax that afternoon on the front porch after a very entertaining shower with Summer, during which they promised that no one else besides Jax and Joey would catch on to them.
Jax had brought a nice six-pack of brown ale with him from L.A. and since it was in his refrigerator, Carter had helped himself to one.
“Who’s in for tonight?” Jax asked.
“The three of us plus Cardona and Fitz. Beckett’s on his way over now so you can talk to us about this mystery thing you want to discuss.”
“Okay. A sixth would be better,” he said.
“Keep dreaming. There’s no way Joey is sitting in on a game with your ass.”
“I hate to suggest it,” Jax said, “but I’m going to anyway since it will piss Beckett off and make Mom happy.”
“Franklin?” Carter asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see if he can come. Maybe he’ll bring some lasagna or something.”
“Good call. What do you think the girls are going to do tonight?” Jax asked, shooting a glance behind them at the house.
“Talk about us.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Do you think Summer will put in a good word for me?”
“I think you could have the Dalai Lama and a children’s choir put in a good word for you and it wouldn’t help your case with Joey,” Carter said.
He put in the call to his mother, who relayed the message to Franklin.
“He’s in and he’s bringing individual portions of ravioli with garlic bread,” Carter said, hanging up.
“I’m starting to like this guy,” Jax said.
Beckett arrived, lugging a case of beer. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding at Carter’s bottle.
“Little brother’s brown ale.”
“Nice.”
“Help yourself,” Jax called after him.
Beckett returned to the porch with his own bottle. “We have a sixth? You talk Joey into it?”
Jax grinned at Carter. “No, we figured we’d keep it testosterone only tonight.”
“Meaning, Joey turned him down,” Carter supplied.
“Naturally,” Beckett nodded. “So who is it?”
“Well, you know how good that ziti was at Carson’s?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Franklin? Come on! I’d expect my brothers to at least support me here. And why is itFranklin, anyway? Why not Frank?”
“I don’t know,Beck,” Carter sneered.
