I frown, wondering if this is a trick. “Okay.”

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow. Make sure you do some stretches now, some more tonight, and some tomorrow morning too. You ever do yoga?”

I shake my head. “That’s my sister’s domain, not mine.”

“You should start. It’ll help with your flexibility. Maybe she can show you some of the poses.”

“Okay, noted. Stretching and yoga.”

Dev stops at the wood table and rearranges some of the weaponry resting on top of it. I’m not even worried he might decide to use one of them on me. If he does, I’ll just take a nice nap on the ground and be thankful for it. Just standing here is sapping the last bit of energy I have left.

I was never much of a gym person before, so having someone force me into it is probably a good thing. I suppose I could stand to be a little more flexible. I’m going to be thirty soon, and my sister’s already told me about a hundred times that thirty was when her body started falling apart.

Thoughts of her remind me of her text. I quickly tap out a response.

Me: On my way.

“See you tomorrow?” Dev asks, holding up a hand.

I give him a solid high five. No two punches for missing this time. “Yep. Tomorrow.”

“Welcome to the team,” he says, walking over to the stairs, grabbing the railing, and launching himself up the first three stairs.

“Thanks. It’s good to be here.”

As he’s entering the door upstairs, Ozzie comes out. I walk over to my car real slowly in case he wants to say good-bye. I’m sitting inside it, pretending like I have to organize my glove box, when I hear his voice at my window.

He leans in a little and smiles. “Good first day?”

I smile too, suddenly nervous. Gone is the military butthead, and in his place is the charming Ozzie, just inches away from my sweaty body. The guy who saved my life and gave me a pretty cool job. My heart warms at the events that brought me here. Maybe getting shot at wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to me.

“You’re not going to quit, are you?” he asks.

“Are you kidding? Just when things are getting interesting?” I didn’t mean for my words to have a double meaning, but the slight lift to his right eyebrow makes me fully aware that they do.

“Got plans tonight?” he asks, his casual tone giving nothing away.

“I think I do, actually.” I look at my phone, sad that my sister is having a crisis. Maybe Ozzie was going to ask me out.

“Good for you. Stay safe.” He bangs his hand on my windowsill twice and backs away.

I watch him go, wondering if I should tell him what my plans are. Would that look too desperate? Ozzie, don’t worry! My plans aren’t with a guy! Oh my god, yes. Totally desperate. Maybe it’s better to let him think whatever he wants about it. It’s better to play hard-to-get, right? And since when does that matter? He’s my boss! I’m not going to sleep with him, dammit!

I jam the key into the ignition with more force than I mean to, breaking my fingernail in the process. I suck on it for a couple seconds before shifting into first gear. I hate that I’m such a slave to my easy libido.

Ozzie’s watching me like a hawk as I turn around inside the big warehouse and point my car toward the open door.

“See you tomorrow,” I say as I glide by, cool as can be.

“See you tomorrow.” He walks next to my car as it’s rolling and hands me my Taser. “Park your car in your garage tonight.”

I put the Taser in my purse and salute as I drive out the doors. My car bucks and shimmies when I accidentally let too much clutch out. I quickly slam the pedal back in and grab the shifter, trying to get it to go into second. Things all come together a couple seconds later, but not until after I’ve made a complete fool of myself right in front of the one person I wanted to think of me as cool. Typical. I don’t know why I even bother trying.

I let out a long sigh as I grind another gear going past the big door leading outside. Good-bye, Bourbon Street Boys and hello, New Orleans night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I hear the yelling before I even get into the house, which makes me wonder if I should have come straight here instead of stopping off to get Felix. I frown when my sister’s door opens without the use of the key I keep on my ring. She really should be more careful about her home security. I make a mental note to check how many entrances she has. Maybe I’ll be able to afford a security system for her one of these days. Maybe BSB gives a family discount of some sort.

Felix takes off into the back of the house as my sister’s voice comes like a boom to my eardrums, a slightly unhinged quality coloring its timbre.

“Get your butt back on that toilet seat, and do not get up until you’ve pooped! I’m not kidding! I have work to get done and dinner to make!”

A wail follows. I can’t tell if it’s one of the girls or Sammy. My money’s on the boy. Being the youngest and the only male in the house has somehow given him license to whine pretty much all the time. I’ve mostly learned to tune it out, but it makes my sister get gray hairs.

I lean into the downstairs bathroom, determining with a quick scan that it is indeed Sammy there on the potty and the two girls in the tub together. Mounds of bubbles go multicolored anywhere there’s a toy floating nearby.

Jenny is standing with her hands in her back pockets and her hair going everywhere. Her blouse is buttoned up all askew, leaving one half hanging lower in the front. She has wet splotches on both legs and only one sock on. The other foot is sporting toenail polish that I’m pretty sure was applied at least six months ago.

“Took you long enough,” she says, huffing her bangs from her eyes as she glares at me.

The absolute wrongest thing to do in a situation like this is to meet her attitude with one of my own. I know this from prior experience, so I keep my reply breezy and simple. “I was at work. What’s going on?”

“Work? What work? I called your studio, and you didn’t pick up.”

“My new job.” I sidle in behind her, kneeling down so I can play with the toys in the tub with the girls. I sink my head down into my shoulders as I wait for the yelling to start.

Sophie and Melody look at me with wide-open eyes. They know it’s coming too.

“New job? What new job? What the hell, May? You have this whole other life you’re keeping secret from me now?”

Aaaand now we know why I waited to say anything. I turn my head and look up at her, using my soothing-therapist voice. “You’ve had a bad day, Jenny-Boo. Go get a glass of wine and sit on the couch. I’m going to bathe the girls, convince Sammy to give it up to the potty gods, and then, after they’re settled down with dinner that I will cook them, I will join you. Consider this your night off.”

She glowers at me for only about a half a second before her face crumbles. “Okay,” she says weakly, leaving the bathroom before anyone can see her cry.

I hate to see how her feet shuffle, barely leaving the ground. She’s wasted already, and she hasn’t even had a drop of alcohol. I love my nieces and nephew more than anything in the world, but they are the most effective birth control I’ve ever encountered. High school girls should be required to babysit them before they can go out on their first dates.

“What’s wrong with Mommy?” Melody, the middle child, asks when she’s gone. We call her Melody-in-the-middle sometimes. She’s still young enough at six not to hate it.