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

and hearing and staring at her like she was some kind of a freak making a scene. Which, technically, she was.

She calmed herself down enough to attempt to call for a car to get her somewhere. Anywhere. As her hand moved over the screen, another text message from Gavin popped up. Reading it, she knew from his words he was the one she wanted. Not just for another night. But for life.

And then, just as hunger, thirst, and her pounding headache were about to conspire to buckle her knees right there on the sidewalk, she heard a set of tires screech, followed by a familiar female voice.

“Get in, loser. We’re going to brunch!”

It was her cousin, the soon-to-be-bride, Rosemary.

Chapter Eight

Gavin

“My, my, my. What a sparse little wedding party you have brought into my home this morning, Ashton. And where is this mysterious celebrity chef friend of yours?”

Betsy DuChamp sipped her mimosa, her face bright-eyed and perfectly painted.

Gavin glanced over at Ash, who shot him a look.

Ash replied, “He rolled in late last night from a TV shoot in Seoul. He’s jet-lagged AF. I gave him the day off.”

Betsy arched an eyebrow. “AF?”

Rosemary entered the room looking as fresh as a daisy. “It means ‘as fuck,’ Mother. The chef is jet lagged as fuck. We excused him from brunch.”

Betsy made a disgusted tut-tut noise at her daughter’s rough language. “And what about our GiGi? And Chastity? Don’t tell me they’ve all caught the jet lag as well?”

Rosemary sighed as she plopped down in her dining chair next to Ash. “No, Mama. I believe the illness that’s going around is a hangover from the raging party last night, and they ain’t coming to your ill-timed brunchy-brunch.”

Betsy now raised both eyebrows at her daughter. “Is that so? Well, in my day, when one is invited to participate in activities surrounding a family wedding in which a person is directly involved, one makes a point to—“

Rosemary grunted through a mouthful of breakfast ham and eggs. “Mama! Nobody wants a lesson in wedding etiquette. We’re all quite hungover. Those of us that are feeling human enough to be in this room under your godawfully bright chandeliers would just like to eat in silence, okay?”

Gavin downed his glass of water from the crystal goblet in front of him, wondering what kind of a nightmare future mother-in-law would plan a wedding party brunch the morning after a bachelor/bachelorette party.

If Chastity’s mother was anything like this woman, he was in for a rough road ahead.

At least he felt a little less hungover with a belly full of food.

“You must be the tattoo artist I’ve heard so much about. Ashton sure does have some colorful friends, I must say.”

“Mama…”

Gavin looked up and met Betsy’s eye. “Yes, ma’am. I own my own business. Come in anytime, I won’t even charge you. Much.”

Rosemary snorted. Ash had to stare straight down at his plate to keep from making eye contact with Gavin.

Betsy did not seem to register what he had said and instead pointed to the wrinkled brown bag and mug of coffee next to his plate.

“Not every day a man brings his own food when invited to a meal,” she purred.

Gavin nodded. “I know this looks strange, but it’s for a girl. A woman. I, uh, heard she liked beignets and this particular kind of coffee. Ash asked me to pick it up for her.”

“And who might that be?” Betsy asked.

Rosemary, always one to cut through the niceties, replied. “Come on, people. It’s Chastity. He’s looking for Chastity. She’s in the guest wing, sleeping it off.”

Betsy sighed in relief. “Well, thank God for that. Her mother and daddy were not very enthused about her attending a bachelorette party last night. I gave them my word that she would be safe and that you all were just going out dancing for a little while with the girls. Gavin, you may leave the coffee and that brown sack of whatever here with me. I’ll see that it gets to our niece. She missed her favorite wake up call this morning.”

Rosemary snorted again. “That’s right. Dancing. With girls. One hundred percent with the girls. All night. Dancing so lively she’s still tuckered out since I brought her home ‘round midnight. Right, fellas?”

Glancing between Betsy and Rosemary, Gavin tried to pick up on whatever it was that was being communicated. Then Rosemary caught his eye and mouthed, Guest wing. Then her eyes darted to his left.

He wasn’t the brightest of men, but this, he understood.

The chair scraped as he stood up and excused himself. “Ma’am. Thank you for the brunch. It’s been a pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

Gavin did not give himself time to wait for a response from Rosemary’s mom, but instead picked up the bag of pastries and the mug of coffee and made his way as quickly as possible to the guest wing of the mansion. To the left, as Rosemary had indicated with her oh-so-subtle hints.

Out in the hallway, he found her scent again and followed it to a long, ornate hallway with a series of doors. Lucky for him, all the doors were open except one. He scanned the area. No one was around. He knocked on the door as his heart nearly busted out of his chest in anticipation. He was going to meet her, finally. Or, again.

There was no answer. He tried the knob, but the door was locked.

The key. Of course.

With shaking hands, Gavin took out the mysterious key from his wallet. She had, at some point, given this to him so he could come and spring her from her gilded prison. Leave it to this weird family of Rosemary’s to lock a person inside her room. Locking someone in from the outside seems to be is very much illegal, if he understood anything about his own business’s fire codes. Unless, she also had a key, in which case…

None of that matters now. Just open the door, you