Crave: The Gibson Boys, Book #3

by Locke, Adriana

  We enter Nana’s dining room to see our men all settled around the table. Nana is at the head, the color in her face a little rosier than it has been. I get why. It would be hard to feel like crap surrounded by the Gibson boys.

  Peck takes the bowl of potatoes from Sienna and doesn’t comment a bit about how black the top is. Walker and Lance discuss one of the Landry businesses Sienna’s family runs as I sit next to Machlan.

  It’s been a week since Nana was released from the hospital. The ten days she was admitted was one of the most interesting experiences of my life. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  One of her grandchildren was always with her. No one complained or couldn’t make it, not one of them ever bailed. The four of them traded off with the expertise of a well-oiled machine with this woman in the center.

  Mariah, Sienna, and I stayed too when Blaire left. She had a big case in Chicago and had to leave after a couple of days. Seeing Blaire, this gorgeous, powerful woman, break down in tears beside Nana’s bed was a scene I’ll never forget. The love and acceptance are something I’ve always wanted, the feeling of being together through thick and thin. Having them accept me into the fold makes me feel like I’m walking in the clouds.

  “Peck, will you say grace?” Nana asks.

  Machlan takes my hand and holds it under the table as Peck says grace. I watch him out of the corner of my eye during the prayer. His eyes are closed, a silent prayer of his own going up to the man upstairs. It fills me with a warmth I can’t explain.

  Hands reach for spoons, Nana dishing out instructions to add more butter here and to give the baked beans a final stir.

  I catch Machlan watching me. He raises a brow, and I nod.

  “Hey,” he says over the chaos of the table. “Had and I have something we want to say.”

  Everything quiets. All eyes shift to Mach.

  “Hadley and I have decided something,” he says. He nudges me with a mischievous grin. “You tell them.”

  “We’re getting married,” I say.

  I bow my head as everyone celebrates, a mixture of clapping and cheering with a few jabs thrown in from Peck. My heart threatens to explode at the happiness everyone shows for us. When I finally look up, I see Nana.

  She’s wiping her eyes with a napkin, wearing the sweetest, softest grin on her face. She reaches for Machlan, and he takes her hand.

  “Hadley, sweetheart, I can’t tell you how happy this makes this old lady,” Nana says. “I love you, little girl.”

  “I love you, Nana,” I say.

  This shouldn’t make me want to cry, but it does. No one has said they love me except my brother, and Machlan as of late, since I was in high school. To hear her say it makes my lips tremble.

  “We’re going to elope,” Machlan jokes to take the attention off me.

  Nana taps the top of his hand and gives him a no-nonsense look. “I’ll hear none of that,” she says. “I’ve put up with you all these years, and you aren’t cutting me out of the good part now.”

  “He’s kidding, Nana,” I say.

  “Good. Because if you let them elope, we’re eloping,” Lance says. “I mean, we even have a good excuse.”

  There’s something about the way he says it that has everyone looking at him.

  Mariah smacks Lance’s shoulder. He must’ve put his foot in his mouth because his eyes go wide. Mariah casts him a glare that really doesn’t look mean before setting her fork next to her plate.

  “Everyone,” Mariah says, clearing her throat. “We’re going to adopt a baby.”

  “Oh, dear sweet Jesus,” Nana says, clutching her chest. “Are you really?”

  “We are,” Lance says. “We’ve been going through the process for a while. It’ll help things if we’re married, which is why we floated the idea of eloping.”

  “I still don’t like it,” Nana says, “but if it speeds things up, maybe we can do something here. Would you be up for that?”

  Mariah beams. “Nana, I just want to be his wife. We can do it in your kitchen if that works. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “You come here and hug me,” Nana says.

  “I really hope you and Sienna will help me get a nursery together, Hadley. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I need some help.” She smiles at me across the table. “I don’t know the first thing about this, and I’m so nervous.”

  “Of course,” I say. “I’d love to.”

  Sienna carries on about a designer she knows. Machlan wraps an arm around my shoulders.

  “You okay?” he whispers. “With the nursery thing?”

  I nod, looking into his eyes. “I am. I’m really happy for them.”

  Nana sniffles. “You kids are gonna make sure I have another heart attack, aren’t you?”

  “Not funny,” Walker and Machlan say at the same time.

  She dabs at her eyes again. “Two weddings and a baby. Walker, what do you have for me?”

  “Oh, that’s not putting him on the spot.” Peck snorts.

  Walker’s chest puffs out like a peacock. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He grins. “Sienna just got a huge contract for designing gowns for a bridal company.”

  “That’s amazing,” I say. “I didn’t know you did that!”

  “She can design anything,” Walker beams.

  Sienna’s smile lights up the room. “I got the contract a while ago, but with Nana being sick and then I had the flu …” She fires a look at Lance. “I know I got it from you.”

  “How’d you get it from me?” he asks.

  “You came over that day to get the soup I made for Mariah and left your germs.”

  “That soup was excellent, by the way,” Mariah tosses in.

  “You made soup, and I didn’t get any?” Peck asks. “Sienna. I’m hurt.”

  Walker sighs. “She’s my girlfriend. Not yours. How many goddamn times do I have to tell you that?”

  Sienna laughs, resting her head on Walker’s shoulder. “I’ll make you some tomorrow, Peck.”

  “Thanks.” He smiles smugly at Walker. “And since everyone is listening to me for a change, I have some news of my own.”

  “They aren’t going to like it,” I tell him.

  He and I exchange a look at the news he shared with me last night. I want to be excited for him. I want to encourage him and be happy for him, but I’m not. And they won’t be either.

  “I don’t care if they like it or not,” he tells me

  “Just prepare yourself,” I say.

  “Will someone tell the rest of us?” Machlan asks. “And I don’t like you two having secrets.”

  “Watch him,” Walker says, taking a bite of beans. “He’ll try to steal your woman.”

  Peck glares at Walker and then at Machlan.

  He fills his fork full of scalloped potatoes and takes a bite. He winces as he swallows the burnt potatoes but doesn’t say a word about it. He just washes it down with a drink of iced tea.

  “Any day now, asshole,” Machlan says, getting a look from Nana.

  “I have a date.” Peck sits up, shoulders back, and grins.

  “Navie?” Machlan asks.

  “Nope. Molly.”

  “What the fuck?” Machlan asks.

  “Machlan Daniel. Enough,” Nana says.

  “I told you,” I tell Peck.

  “Oh, wait till you meet her,” Lance tells Nana. “You’ll be ‘What the fuck-ing’ along with the rest of us.”

  Peck’s face falls. “Guys, be nice. I don’t give you hell.”

  “Yes, you do,” they say in unison, making everyone, even Nana, laugh.

  “I’m sure she’s a nice girl if Peck likes her,” Nana offers.

  “That’s one way to put it,” Walker mumbles. “She’s nice to everyone, if you catch my drift.”

  Peck shrugs and goes back to his meal. “Well, I’m looking forward to it. Things are starting to come around.”

  The table breaks out into chatter again, everyone sparring back and forth in t
ypical Gibson fashion. Machlan takes my hand again and holds it while we eat.

  I take my time, eating slowly and taking in the love and family around me. I’ve wanted this my entire life. For a while, I didn’t think I’d ever have it.

  But as I sit at Nana’s table, listening to Peck give Walker crap about a tractor at Crank and watching Machlan dote on his grandmother, I realize something: things like this, like what’s sitting around this table, don’t happen overnight. You can’t force them to happen. You can’t make them not happen. You just have to water them with love and give them room to breathe and enough support to anchor the roots into the foundation of something good.

  If Machlan and I had tried to stay together years ago, our roots weren’t planted yet. They would’ve given in to the weight of the world and we wouldn’t fallen on our faces.

  All those years of not being together weren’t in vain. They weren’t a waste, like Machlan thinks. They were a way to build us up to this point so we can enjoy it now.

  I look at the little tattoo on my wrist. Machlan catches me looking at it and lifts my arm to his lips. He presses a kiss where the wings meet, letting his lips linger on my skin for a long moment.

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  He smiles my favorite smile. The one that’s just for me. “I love you too.”

  The End

  CRAZY, Peck’s story, is coming soon. Add it to Goodreads by clicking here.

  If you haven’t met Walker Gibson, you can read his story now. Check out CRANK on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited by clicking HERE.

  Want more on those delicious Landry men? Keep clicking for Chapter One of the Landry Family Series.

  Meet the Landry Family

  Sway, Landry Family Series book #1

  Available now on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited, as well as in audiobook.

  Alison

  “This is a single girl’s paradise.”

  “No,” I grimace, blotting the spilled cheese sauce from my shirt. “Paradise would be a tropical island with a hot cabana boy at my beck and call ... and an endless supply of mojitos.”

  Lola laughs, the sound barely heard over the chaos of the kitchen. Chefs shouting instructions, event planners panicking, plates being dropped—the world of catering is a noisy endeavor.

  I step to the side to allow Isaac, a fellow server and Lola’s gorgeous friend with benefits, to scamper to the ballroom a few feet away. He’s tall with a head full of dark curls and a laugh that makes you involuntarily smile. Lola is crazy for keeping him at arm’s length, but that’s how she operates. He has little money; she has limited interest.

  “Cabana boys may have hot bodies and virility, Alison, but they lack two very important qualities: fame and fortune.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that you’d take a limp dick over a hard one? Interesting,” I say, rolling my eyes and tossing the sauce-soaked rag into the linen bin.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying, smart ass. I’m saying I’d take a solid bank account over a solid cock. Think about it—with all that money, he could never fuck me at all and I wouldn’t care.”

  “If that’s the case,” I retort, grabbing another tray of drinks, “there are tons of opportunities out there to not get fucked.”

  I laugh at the dreamy look on her face, partly because it’s hilarious and partly because I know she’s not kidding.

  Lola and I are a lot alike. We both come from meager backgrounds and Luxor Foods is our second job. There’s no doubt we both would rather not be here because serving rich bitches can be a very humbling experience. But they are also the best parties to work because they tip. Very well. Of course it’s so they can feel above us most times, but we’ll take it. It’s money in our pockets, and if they get off on it in the process, good for them.

  That being said, Lo took this job to afford her manicures, pedicures, and eyelash extensions. I do it to take care of my son, Huxley. Lola’s first job is working at a salon and her career goals include marrying up in the world. I, on the other hand, work at Hillary’s House restaurant during the day and go to school for journalism in hopes to one day write pieces that might inspire someone.

  “Speaking of fucking,” she says, her eyes aglow, “did you see Mayor Landry?”

  “I love how you segued into that,” I laugh.

  “It’s a linear comparison. Tell me that fucking isn’t the first thing that comes to mind when you think of him, and I’ll call you a liar.”

  Of course it’s the truth. It’s the first thing that comes to mind … and maybe the second and third too.

  Thoughts of the recently crowned Most Eligible Bachelor make me a swoony mess. Barrett Landry’s thick, sandy brown hair that always looks perfectly coiffed, his broad, friendly smile that makes you feel like you could tell him your darkest secrets without judgment, his tanned skin, tight body, wide shoulders—the list goes on. But it all leads, as Lo so candidly pointed out, to thoughts of him stripped down and wearing only his charismatic grin.

  I shiver at the thought.

  “See?” she grins, waggling her finger in my face. “Linear comparison.”

  “I’ll give you that. He’s so seriously fine.”

  “Have you had a chance to get close to him? To breathe him in?”

  “Breathe him in?” My laughter catches the attention of our boss, Mr. Pickner. He twists his burly body our way, letting us know we’d better get to work.

  “I haven’t,” I say, turning back to Lola. “Even though I’ve been around men like Landry before—well, not quite like him, but as close as a mortal can be—I don’t think I could handle it, Lo. He scrambles my brain. I’d probably fall face first into him and dump the drinks in his lap. Then we’d both be wet.”

  She swipes a tray off the table and shoots a wink at Isaac as he walks back in. “It would so be worth it if you played your cards right. You could probably get away with running your hands through his hair and maybe even licking his stubbled jaw. A kiss would probably be over the top, but his Southern roots would keep him from causing a scene and asking for security.”

  “You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” I ask in mock horror.

  “Of course I have and every other woman in here has too. Hell, half the men probably have,” she giggles. “In my fantasy, he gazes at me with those emerald green eyes and leans in and—”

  “Ladies! Back to work!”

  We sigh as Mr. Pickner barrels by. He’s an overweight, balding, temperamental asshole of a man, but he owns the premiere catering company in all of Georgia. So we deal. Barely.

  Lola bumps me with her hip. “Seriously. Stop being so goody-two-shoes and go out there and snag you a man and a retirement plan.”

  I bite my tongue. We’ve had this conversation a number of times before and she just doesn’t get it. I don’t fault her though. Most people don’t. They see the glitz and glamour, the designer labels and fine wine and get drawn in like a Siren’s call. That life looks too good to resist, too good to be true.

  The thing is—they’re exactly right. It is.

  She reads the look on my face and we start towards the door. “I know, I know. You lived like that once. It’s a fantasy, smoke and mirrors ...”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, I say I’ll play in the smoke as long as the mirrors make me pretty.”

  I snort, pushing open the door to the ballroom. “You go right ahead and dig that gold all the way down the aisle.”

  “I’ve got my shovel right here.” She shimmies her backside in my direction. “See that one over there?”

  Following her gaze across the room, I see a man I know is one of the Landry brothers. There are four of them and two sisters, twins, if I’m not mistaken. I don’t really follow that kind of thing much, but they’re basically Georgia royalty, and even avoiding current events as I do, you can’t help but pick up on some of their lives. Every newscast, it seems, has something Landry-related even when it’s not election season.

  “I
’m going to check him out,” Lola says and takes off, leaving me standing with my tray of ridiculously overpriced champagne.

  I roam the outer edges of the elegant ballroom, giving a practiced smile to each person that plucks a drink off the tray. Some smile widely, some try to chit-chat, some completely ignore me like they probably do the paid staff at home. It’s fine by me.

  A few years ago, I attended events like this. Married to my college sweetheart, a newly minted judge in Albuquerque, we went to balls and galas and swearing-in ceremonies often. It was a magical time in my life, before the magic wore off and everything exploded right in my face.

  “Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

  I spin to my right to see an older gentleman grinning at me like a snake ready to strike.

  “Would you like a drink?” I offer, knowing good and well by the color in his cheeks that he’s already had more than enough.

  “No, no, that’s fine. I was actually just admiring you.”

  Pasting on a smile and tossing my shoulders back, I try to keep my voice even. “Thank you, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “I was thinking,” he says, cutting me off, “how about you and I take a little stroll? Do you get my drift?”

  “With all due respect,” I say through clenched teeth, glancing at the wedding ring sparkling on his finger, “how about you take a stroll with your wife?”

  I swivel on my heels and head off as calmly as possible, blood roaring in my ears. I can hear his cackle behind me and I really want to turn around and slam my fist into his beefy face. It’s behavior that’s typical of people like this, thinking they can get away with whatever they want with the bourgeoisie. I just so happen to have an overdeveloped sensitivity to it, being that my husband did the same thing to me as soon as he got a little power.

  Lola catches my attention as I pause to settle down. She points discreetly to the other end of the room and mouths, “Over there.” The gleam in her eye tells me she's spotted the mayor, but I can't see him.

  I shuffle through the crowd and finally spy the man of the hour walking out, his arm around the waist of a woman that's been acting crazy all night. Her head is leaned on his shoulder, her hand resting on his backside. Laughing, I catch Lola's eye and nod to the exit.