Chasing The Night: Big Easy Shifters: Book Three, Knox, Abby [book series to read .TXT] 📗

agreed, only after warming up C’s coffee and sticking it into a double-walled cup of Bobby’s that he took out of the kitchen, and he bagged up some of the hot beignets.

“Fine, let’s go,” he said. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

And then he texted C one more time.

Chapter Seven

Chastity, 9:45 a.m.

She knew she could call a car before even thinking about checking her text messages—surely her daddy and Uncle Lionel back at the mansion would pay for the rideshare—but she was just too tempted to address the double digits on the little red dot.

So, of course, she tapped it.

Messages from Rosemary were at the top of the list.

You look like you’re having fun. Just be warned, Gavin is not like us. You know that, right? He’s like Ash.

And then, two minutes later: You are expected at the house in the Garden District in the morning, so please check in. And be careful.

And then again: Seriously tho, I just heard you were hell-bent on losing your virginity tonight. Jeebus. OK, but do you have BC? Condom?

OK, girl, do what you want, but just remember, watch out for those claws.

I am not your mama, but do you know what you’re doing? Do you realize you could eat him alive?

OK, I don’t mean eat him alive in that sense. I mean, literally take a bite out of him. You’re still young and wild and you don’t know how to control it when you get emotional. Just because tonight’s not a new moon doesn’t mean the panther won’t come out. Like when you’re drunk and horny, your mom and dad told you about that, right?

They had not. And it was no surprise to Chastity that her parents had not schooled her on this little detail about her sexuality. Purity Ball dads and their wives were not that forthcoming about empowering their daughters, shapeshifters or non-shapeshifters.

She read on. More texts from Rosemary. Give it up, girl. Sheesh.

You do know that cats are unpredictable. Until you learn how to control it you probably shouldn’t be doing it at all with a person who doesn’t know what he’s getting into.

OK, listen. I feel responsible. Mama told me to watch out for you and I should have had you back at the mansion in lockdown about two hours ago. Please text me asap.

Finally, she got to the last one. Rosemary sure had gotten uptight in this bridezilla phase of hers. She typed back and sent:

I’m OK. Trying to find a ride back to the mansion.

She had only one text from her mother, sent late last night:

Hope you’re having a fun night, sweetie.

For some reason, this gripped Chastity’s heart in unexpected ways. No demands to know how much she’d had to drink, or if she’d arrived back at her aunt and uncle’s house at a decent hour. Just well wishes. Wow, she thought. Maybe my mother is lightening up and starting to see me as an adult. Or maybe, Chastity needed to give them a break. They were only working with the parenting tools they had been given by their parents.

And then, she took a deep breath and tapped on the name G.

If she thought Rosemary was long-winded, she had nothing on this guy.

She read all of his texts in order after she’d made her way over to a park bench, for which she was exceedingly grateful. Her feet were finally starting to hurt. She had to scroll up quite a ways to get to his first message.

If she wasn’t already falling for the guy, she was falling flat on her face with her heart outside her body with his very first text to her.

Hey, this is Gavin. Friend of Ash. I think you’re cute. I got your number from…well, a very drunk relative with poor judgment, and I’m not gonna throw any of your friends under the bus. And then a wink emoji.

About five minutes later, the second text.

Hey, I saw you dancing on the bar. Do you need a ride home?

Sweet.

I sent you that drink, which maybe I should not have done. I’m the big dummy in the corner with the long brown hair and the beard, but I’m way less scary than I look.

Chastity smiled dumbly at her phone and scrolled down. She was vaguely aware of dancing at Bobby’s last night and having drinks. So many drinks. Too many. God, she smelled coffee and beignets coming from somewhere.

The next one was interesting. It had been sent two hours after the first one. All it said was:

I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I wanted to wake you with breakfast in bed. I had to leave. I feel like a jerk, but trust me when I say it’s better that I left. You’ll understand later. I know my place is a hovel compared to what you might be used to, but please, whatever you do, don’t leave.

Why had she left? Hadn’t she known as soon as she’d woken up that she should stay and wait for him? Should she go back now?

Then the next one, which was a couple of hours later, shortly after she’d woken up:

Hey, it’s me. I feel like a jackass. I’m not totally sure what happened, but I need to see you so we can sort this out. Please stay wherever you are. Are you at my place? Let me know.

Chastity made a mental note: always have a charger, at all times, when out raising hell with her cousins in New Orleans.

She looked up and stretched her neck from side to side, which was stiff from staring at her phone. It was then that she saw the loud, black, classic GTO that she was pretty sure belonged to Rosemary’s fiancé.

Holy shit!

She forgot about her aching feet and her exhausted body and pounding head. She tossed her ridiculous heels to the curb and sprinted after the car, calling Ash’s name.

It was no use. He didn’t see her and didn’t hear her. But people on the street were seeing