Roddy Rembrandt.
Without notice, Jussy’s family was calling.
Fuck.
He didn’t move even as they made their way up the front walk and stopped in front of him.
“Jesus, you’re a big boy,” Jussy’s mom muttered.
And looking at her close, Deke was straight up stunned.
Not a line on her face. The shades still on, he couldn’t see her eyes but from what he could see, he knew the woman was fifty-three, and she looked, tops, like she hadn’t even hit forty.
“You’re Joss,” he stated.
“Yup,” she declared. “And you’re Deke.”
“Yup,” he replied, turned his attention beyond her to Rembrandt, who was standing close to his wife’s back, and he greeted, “Rembrandt.”
“Dude,” the man greeted back.
Deke moved out of the way, opening the door farther as he did, indication they should come in.
No hesitation, they came right in.
He shut the door behind them and turned, seeing they were already planted inside, facing his way.
Jussy’s mom had her sunglasses pushed up in her hair and he saw gray eyes, not Jussy’s brown, and still no lines.
These were aimed at his chest.
And her mouth was curled up.
“Jussy’s lazing,” he shared. “I’ll go rile her ass,” and get a fucking shirt. “Coffee’s on. Take off your coats, come in, get comfortable. Be back.”
Rembrandt had kept his shades on, as apparently rockers did, even inside, but he didn’t hesitate to shrug his coat off. When he did, Deke saw a long sleeve tee that had seen better days, was faded from its original black to a dark gray, and had big, cracked white letters on the front that said, It’s Only Rock and Roll. But I like it.
Joss kept smirking at him.
Jesus.
Deke moved and was halfway to the door to the back hall when Jussy came out of it, dressed in a new pair of ridiculous pajamas she’d unearthed from a box that came the day before from an online order.
Bottoms long, gathered at the ankle, a peachy-cream with bright embroidery across the front of the hips and down one leg, waistband so loose, it didn’t sit at her waist but hung on the tops of her hips. Top, a tight-fitting, army green thermal with a dizzying pattern of stars on it that in no way matched the pants, but came with them.
Deke had learned to look on the bright side with some of Jussy’s clothing. A lot of it rocked because it showed tits, legs, or if he got close, panties and/or bra. The rest of it, there was always something good about it, even if he had to dig to find the good.
This was no exception. The top fit snug at her tits which were clearly not bound by a bra. The bottoms had slits all the way up the sides from gathered hem to waistband.
In bed, and out of it, his hand could find itself in very good places with the slits in those pants. And starting about five minutes after she’d put them on last night, they had.
Almost as good, her nipples were showing through the thermal, she didn’t give a shit, he liked that and he liked the view.
“Uh…what the hell?” she asked, her eyes aimed beyond Deke to her mother and stepdad.
“Surprise,” Joss answered on a drawl.
Jussy’s face screwed up.
Deke stopped at her side and put a hand to her belly.
She tipped her pissed-off expression to him.
“As you can see, your family’s here. Gettin’ a shirt. Makin’ pancakes for four. And it’s all good,” he stated.
She clearly didn’t agree.
So he pressed his hand light into her stomach and repeated, “It’s all good, gypsy.”
She drew in breath, doing it pulling a Jussy, which meant pulling her shit together.
Seeing that, Deke let her go and kept moving.
But he’d find she hadn’t pulled her shit totally together because he heard her mother asking, “My baby girl gonna come and give her momma a hug?”
“Yes, she is, because she loves you. But first, she’s going to ask if your fingers have all been broken, and Roddy’s, so you couldn’t text me to tell me you were showing first thing on a frickin’ Saturday morning.”
That’s all he got before he was in her room and the voices became less distinct.
So he was grinning when he hit her room.
He grabbed his own thermal, pulled it on and moved his ass back to where Jussy was with her family.
When he got there, he saw Joss’s sheepskin jacket was off, it and her bag thrown on one of the denim couches. This exposed a bright red tee, barely-there sleeves, a dead-fucking-cool Chinese dragon stitched on the front.
Rembrandt’s jacket was on the couch too, and Jussy was giving him a hug. It was a jerky, short, annoyed one, but it was still a hug.
Deke’s lips quirked as he moved to the side of the couch opposite them and leaned against it.
Jussy pulled out of Rembrandt’s arms and turned Deke’s way.
“I take it you met Deke,” she remarked, throwing her hand toward him.
“That we did,” Joss replied.
“And Deke’s a mellow guy, so he’s always laidback, so I can’t tell from him if you were cool when you met him,” Jussy went on.
Joss’s eyes narrowed on her daughter. “We’ve barely been here five minutes, girl, and I’ve barely said five words to him.”
Jussy lifted her brows to her mother, not missing a beat. “And were those five words cool?”
Joss seemed like she was fixing to blow when Rembrandt skirted the couch, put his back to the arm, and collapsed into it, still wearing his shades, announcing, “Took the redeye here. Got fuckin’ six fuckin’ suitcases, four of ’em filled with your shit, Jussy, in that SUV. Wrangled that crap myself because your mother wanted to arrive without an entourage,” he said the last like this was a sticking point on a variety of things between Joss and Roddy. “Now I’m bone-tired, need coffee, food, to bonk my wife and then pass out.”