Calamity Rayne Knocked Up (Calamity Rayne #4)

15. The Turkey Shoot

The Turkey Shoot

“ I t’s barbaric!” Seraphina cried, lifting her glass for yet another mimosa.

The men had disappeared early that morning for what was an age-old tradition in the Davenport family. They were off to hunt dinner.

No, not really. We had crab legs on ice, caviar, and a twenty-four-pound bird already marinating. This was just a dumb thing the boys did so they could dress like a Ralph Lauren spread and shoot guns.

“I doubt they’ll kill anything. Hale doesn’t know how to use a rifle.”

Marta looked up from the bowl of custard she was whipping. Brunch had moved from the dining room to the kitchen because I wanted to be where the food was. The housekeeper mumbled something in Spanish, and Seraphina laughed.

“Hasta la English, please.” I scowled, despising when they spoke in Spanish. Sometimes, I suspected they specifically did that, so I wouldn’t understand.

“Mr. Davenport is a very skilled hunter, Ni?a .”

“He is?” This was news to me.

“Did you honestly think there was something Hale was not good at?” Phina asked.

“But Hale’s not a killer. He doesn’t hunt. He hates anything messy.”

Phina rolled her eyes and emptied another bottle of bubbly into her diluted orange juice. “Hale hunts.”

“No,” I argued. “He sings lullabies and rescues ducklings.”

“He’s a killer, Rayne.”

Odette sipped her tea and chuckled. “Are you a vegetarian, Rayne?”

“No, but that’s not the point.”

I still couldn’t meet her gaze, so I gathered the crumbs on the counter into a pile. Maybe she and Remington had an open relationship.

“I find these things are less about the kill and more about the tradition,” Naomi chimed in. “It’s a part of the Davenport heritage for the men to go on these hunts. They like any excuse to showcase their privilege. They get off on the exclusivity of the event and other men beg for an invitation each year. Let them have it.” This, coming from the woman who divorced from the man leading the slaughter.

“I think you’re a little more indulgent than me. I don’t believe in killing animals for sport.”

“Someone killed that bacon you’re eating.”

I stilled then dropped the scrap of bacon right into Phina’s champagne. “Thanks for ruining it.”

“Look, it’s the one time of year that Remy actually bonds with his sons,” Naomi said. “Can we all just appreciate that?”

I couldn’t imagine Hale and Remington spending this much time one on one together. They’d been gone since before the sun was up.

“What time are they coming back?” Phina asked, fishing the bacon out of her glass. “I might have Alphonse drive me into town before we get bombarded with testosterone. Want to come Rayne? ”

“Wait, how many people are coming back?” I looked down at my faded T-shirt stretched over my stomach and my dingy sweatpants. I was in my house cardigan, the one with a hole in the elbow that I simply couldn’t part with.

“All of the men. They should be back soon,” Marta said, moving to set out refreshments.

“Hold on. Who’s coming here?”

“It’s mostly just the guys from last night.” Phina, of course, was already dressed for the day in her ivory cowl neck sweater and riding boots, even if she was working with a midday buzz.

My mother shot me a look. “Ray, maybe you should change.”

I sighed and slid off the stool, wishing these people would put out some sort of itinerary. “Can you keep an eye on Elara?”

“Of course.”

The front door opened, and masculine laughter erupted from the hall. “Shit.”

“Shit,” Elara repeated, and we all turned to gape at her.

Naomi laughed. “Did she just…?”

“I believe so,” my mother answered, also smiling .

“Well, don’t smile at her!” What the hell was happening to my well-ordered morning? I had a profane toddler, a murderous husband, and I looked like I stole my wardrobe from a bag lady. This was not how I had planned my day.

Marta carried a charcuterie tray into the dining room. I hung back because I could not sneak upstairs while the men removed their muddy boots in the foyer.

“What happens now?” I asked Phina.

“They eat and brag and fill their bloated egos with old fashioneds until dinner.”

It was only ten in the morning, and dinner wasn’t until six. Did they honestly plan on drinking for the next eight hours? Why wasn’t I told about this back when I could drink? I loved day drinking. Now, it just pissed me off.

I glanced at the back door, figuring that to be the only way to avoid the strangers infiltrating the front of the house. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Okay.” Phina uncorked another bottle of champagne.

I glanced at my mom. “Watch her.”

My mother waved me away. “ We’re fine, Ray. Go.”

I hadn’t even brushed my hair yet. Avoiding the crowd, I slipped out the back door and rounded the house. It was damn cold this early in the morning and I, once again, regretted not grabbing a coat.

“We meet again.”

I spun from the car door and came face to face with Alexander Landry. “Xander. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Hale invited me last night.”

“He did?”

His gaze dropped to my T-shirt and I crossed my arms over my chest. My nipples could cut glass in this weather.

He chuckled bringing his attention back to my face. “You look surprised.”

“I guess I am.”

“Why? Do you think your husband doesn’t like me?”

“That’s obviously not the case if he invited you here on Thanksgiving.”

“He invited me here in an attempt to intimidate me, Rayne.”

Every time he used my name it felt intentional, like he was trying to make a hidden point. “How do you figure?”

“Hale wanted me to see his weapons, generational wealth, and beautiful wife. Your husband has an undeniably enviable life to flaunt, and he wields it when he has to.”

I didn’t appreciate being categorized as an asset. If Hale wanted to show off my beauty, he could have at least given me a heads-up. “Are you leaving?”

He chuckled. “What fun would that be? I’m afraid that’s not how the game is played. We want to at least give Hale the sense of an upper hand, don’t we?”

Was that another gambling reference? “Well, I’m leaving.” I popped open the car door and hit the automatic start.

“Will I see you again?”

“Uh, this is my family’s Thanksgiving, so yeah, I plan on being with them.”

“And your boss’s.” He winked. “It should be an interesting day. See you later, Rayne.” He loped up the front steps, leaving me more confused than ever.

I was going to strangle Hale.

Once I got home I took a bath, in no rush to get back to Remington’s house. I really needed to go shopping and considered running out with Phina, but how many stores would be open on Thanksgiving? I needed maternity clothes, which would be even more difficult to find, so I gave up on that idea and stewed in the tub.

My body was expanding by the minute. I was constantly out of breath and forgetting what I was doing. I had to take three breaks just to blow out my hair, and by the time I was finished, I wanted to nap.

Though my wardrobe was limited, I packed a few decent items but nothing suitable for the upper-crust company. Once again, I wished someone had given me a little notice.

Opting for leggings, a white, long-sleeved T-shirt and an orange duster, I made do with what I owned. I had not prepared a designer look for Thanksgiving because, where I came from, Thanksgiving was family, football, turkey farts, and naps.

The mood was lively when I returned to Remington’s house, and the testosterone was palpable. One glance into the parlor, and I rolled my eyes. I didn’t see Hale, but the rest of the men looked to be on their third or fourth drink.

What an emotional circle jerk. It was one big stroke fest.

Oh, look how big my gun is …

Aren’t I powerful?

I can shoot a bird that was bread and fed to think it’s safe here…

Oh, that was a bad feeling. I had to watch my inner monologue because pregnancy kept me constantly on the verge of tears. “Stupid men,” I mumbled under my breath as I put together a sandwich at the sideboard. “ I don’t trust you. Want to come to my house for Thanksgiving…” I rolled my eyes. “Idiots.”

I turned with my plate and came face to face with Hale.

“There you are.”

I pursed my lips wondering how much he heard. “Hey.”

“How’s your morning going?”

“Fine.” His easy expression turned unsure. Hale hated when I said I was fine. “Did you kill a bird?”

He chuckled. “No.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why did you invite that guy here after I told you how uncomfortable he made me last night?”

“He apologized for anything offensive he might have said and asked for a chance to make it up to you.”

“And you’re letting him?” Who was this guy and what did he do with my husband? “A little heads up would’ve been nice.”

“I would have told you, but this is the first we’re speaking since last night. You left me there, Rayne.”

“You left me on a dance floor, Hale. And no one was dancing.”

“I came right back, but you were gone.”

I wasn’t going to argue semantics. “I don’t like him.”

“Baby, he’s all talk. I made it clear who you belong to.”

I scoffed and touched my neck. “That reminds me, where did you put my leash?”

“You know what I mean.”

Xander’s words came back to me. “Oh my God, he was right. You brought him here to show off.”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice, the silver of his eyes darkening to a stormy grey. “Maybe I did. Should we give him a show?”

This was one of those keep your friends close and your enemies closer things. I poked my finger in his chest before he could step any closer. “I don’t like playing games like this, Hale. ”

“Some games are fun, Rayne.” He pressed the front of his body to mine.

“Right now, my sandwich looks fun.”

“Come on, baby. Don’t be mad at me.” He knew exactly how to push my buttons. One swipe of his fingers along my neck and I was a puddle of goo for him.

“You’re such a punk.”

He chuckled and set my plate aside, backing me into the wall. When he kissed me, his hands went right into my hair. “Deny it all you want, baby, but you like when I get possessive and stake my claim.”

My breath quickened as he pinched my nipple through my shirt. My body's switchboard was a hot mess these days, and I felt too many things at once. Excitement. Fear. Arousal. Longing for my sandwich. “I like it in private.”

He dragged his nose along my cheek as if breathing me in, quietly whispering, “I don’t want to be private today, Rayne. I want him to see the way you look at me, the way I touch you, the way you make me happier than any man alive. I want him to imagine how hot you are when I’m fucking you, my wife. Then I’ll make it unmistakably clear that he, or any other man for that matter, will never know you as intimately as I do.”

My back bone melted into a puddle in my panties. “Hale…” I whined, completely turned on.

“Rayne,” he answered, knowing by the sound of my voice that he was going to get his way—the cocky bastard.

How could I deny him anything when he went all growly-alpha and told me I was pretty? My foremothers would be so disappointed, but my inner slut was reveling in his high-handed dominance.

“I’m not happy about this.”

His hand closed around my ass as he loosened the button of his pants. “Are you sure?”

Shutting my eyes, I dragged my knuckles over his swollen length.

“There’s my good girl.” He kissed my throat and my knees softened. “You spoil me.”

Reaching into his clothes, I gripped his length. He groaned when I stroked him.

“Yes.” He pushed his hips forward. “Your touch feels incredible.”

He knew I couldn’t resist him, and he used his potent sexual magnetism to his full advantage. So, I had to deliver at least one dig in defense of feminism. “We better hurry, Hale. I heard the dick-measuring contest starts in ten minutes.”

He didn’t even flinch. “I’ve got that one in the bag.”