“Rosalie—”

She stopped talking when we both heard the front door open.

I got tense.

Mom got tense along with me.

That could be anyone. Snapper. A random Bounty who’d miraculously made bail and followed us there. A serial killer who happened onto a perfect opportunity.

“Yo!” a man’s voice yelled.

I didn’t think a serial killer or a random Bounty with revenge on his mind would shout “Yo.”

Though I didn’t know who that “Yo” belonged to, except it didn’t belong to Snapper.

I relaxed.

Mom grabbed my hand, led me out to the bedroom, and preceded me down the winding stairs.

As we went around the curves, standing inside the front door we saw a pretty woman with a mass of goldish-brown curly hair holding a huge vase arranged with roses and berries and branches with leaves on them dripping with some kind of small citrus fruit.

With her was a Chaos man in his cut with a toddler attached to his hip, and dangling from his free hand were about five plastic grocery bags.

“Hi!” the woman cried. “You must be Rosalie and Renae.”

“Gah, goo, gee!” the toddler shrieked right before he punched his biker in his bearded jaw and carried on, “Joe-joe-kah!”

With obvious practice withstanding the blows, the Chaos brother didn’t even flinch after he got struck by the baby. He just watched us alight from the foot of the stairs.

“Yes, this is Rosalie and I’m her mom, Renae,” Mom introduced, moving toward them.

“I’m Carissa, and this is Joker and Travis, Joker being the big boy, Travis the little one,” the woman replied.

Joe-joe-kah.

Adorable.

My heart hurt.

“Hi, Carissa,” Mom said.

“Yes, hi, Carissa,” I chimed in. I looked to the brother. “Joker.”

“Yo,” he grunted.

“Snapper told us you were moving in today so we ran to LeLane’s to get you some stuff so you’d feel welcome and are all good to settle in without having to run any errands or anything,” Carissa explained, lifting up the arrangement. “We have more in the car. We’ll just get it in, put it away, and get out of your hair.”

“No,” I said swiftly, touched in a totally blown-away sense that they’d do this.

I mean, I liked shopping but not the grocery kind, and I’d never seen anything like that arrangement. It was phenomenal.

Not to mention, they’d gone to LeLane’s, which was insanely expensive.

“You should stay for a drink or something.” I shot her a smile. “I mean, you can hang with Mom while I pop out to grab some beverages and then you can stay for a drink.”

“You’re Snap’s so bought beer,” Joker declared.

I felt my eyes get big at his short declaration that was still uttered like he was reciting what was carved into stone as I heard Mom emit a strangled giggle.

“And I’m a girl and I know not all girls drink beer, so I got you some diet pop and wine,” Carissa put in.

“That’s perfect!” Mom exclaimed excitedly, a biker babe of the highest order, in other words, always up for company, and taking that further, if any form of alcohol was available, making “company” into a party.

But I was watching Joker and Travis, the former of whom had shifted to look out the windowed front door, the latter of whom was bouncing on his biker’s hip, clapping clumsily and squealing, “Hi-ha-hi-ha-hi-ha!”

This was explained when Joker shifted further, getting out of the way of the door just in time for me to see High, another Chaos brother (this one I knew) reaching out to open it. He then came through it trailed by a curvy brunette in a fabulous sweater dress that made me decide I needed a sweater dress (or seven), even more fabulous high-heeled boots, and a gorgeously tailored long wool coat.

I was stunned speechless due to the fact High was carrying an enormous white and black striped bag with tufts of red tissue paper coming out of the top of it.

One of my favorite sights in all the world…carried in by a burly biker.

A Sephora bag.

With reaching arms, Travis grunted his desire to be turned over to High.

With easy expertise, High took the toddler at the same time he kept hold of whatever heaven was in that black and white striped bag.

“Oh no,” the brunette said through this. “We’re too late to leave our surprise for you.”

“Rosalie,” High rumbled.

“Hey, High,” I greeted. “This is my mom, Renae.”

He dipped his chin to Mom and she said, “Hey.”

He then grunted, “My woman, Millie.”

How long had it been since Neanderthal times?

A week?

“Hey there,” Millie called.

Mom and I said our return heys.

“Gonna put this shit in the kitchen,” Joker mumbled.

“Carson!” for some reason Carissa snapped, walking toward my coffee table to put down the vase but doing it glaring at her man.

He looked down at the child High was carrying while still moving toward the kitchen.

“Do you know what ‘shit’ means?” he asked.

“Goo-dee-la-la-kee-la-gee-jah,” the kid answered.

Joker looked to Carissa. “That means no.”