Fated in New Orleans

5

By the time the second pot of coffee was halfway gone, Rhea was running on pure caffeine and zero filter.

She was humming off-key to whatever song was in her head, fingers flying over the keyboard, talking faster than most people could process. “See, the system rebuild’s actually running smoother than I thought. I mean, look at this sync rate — clean as a whistle. Well, a dusty whistle. Like a swamp whistle. Do whistles exist in swamps? Anyway—”

“Rhea,” Salem said flatly from the couch.

Rhea kept going. “Oh, and if I adjust the relay node, we could probably cut down the latency by, like, twenty percent, which means—”

“Rhea.”

“—we could push the new firewall test without waiting for the—”

“Rhea.”

Rhea turned, still grinning. “Yeah?”

Salem’s tone dropped to a warning growl. “You’ve had too much caffeine. You’re startin’ to sound like a squirrel on espresso.”

Rhea blinked, unconcerned. “I work better when I’m caffeinated.”

“Non,” Salem said, standing, slow and deliberate, like she was approaching a wild animal — or a very annoying friend. “You work louder when you’re caffeinated. There’s a difference.”

Rhea leaned back in her chair, smirking. “You’re just jealous I can multitask.”

Salem arched a brow. “Jealous isn’t the word I’d use, chère.”

Miles, Beau, and River exchanged glances from near the doorway — all three trying, and failing, to hide their amusement.

Rhea spun her chair toward them, talking faster now. “See? They get it. Productive chaos, right? Miles loves chaos. River tolerates it. Beau encourages it.”

Beau raised his brows. “You ain’t wrong.”

Miles chuckled. “I’d call this more of a caffeine tornado than chaos.”

River leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, quiet but watching with faint amusement. “More like a Category Five.”

Salem pinched the bridge of her nose. “If she says ‘latency’ one more time, I swear to God I’m throat-punchin’ her.”

That made Rhea laugh — loud and unbothered. “You wouldn’t.”

Salem’s eyes narrowed just enough to make Beau snort. “You’d lose that bet, cher.”

“Y’all hear that?” Rhea said, spinning back to her screen. “She’s threatenin’ workplace violence before she’s finished her first cup. That’s a red flag.”

Salem deadpanned, “It’s a mercy warning.”

Miles had to bite his knuckle to keep from laughing, muttering, “God help whoever pairs with them in the field.”

Beau leaned closer to River. “Ten bucks says Rhea keeps talkin’ until she gets a mug thrown at her.”

River’s mouth curved faintly. “No bet. You’d lose.”

Rhea kept typing, undeterred, still rambling about data flow and diagnostics — until Salem reached over, gently but firmly, and closed the laptop lid right under her hands.

Rhea froze.

Salem leaned down, voice low and almost dangerous. “Go stretch. Go breathe. Go anywhere that’s not next to me until I finish this coffee, or I will make good on that threat.”

Rhea blinked, then grinned slow. “You sound like my mama.”

Salem’s jaw ticked. “And you sound like the reason she drank.”

That broke everyone.

Beau burst out laughing, Miles doubled over, and even River cracked an audible chuckle, shaking his head.

Rhea threw up her hands, mock-offended. “Fine, fine! I’ll go take a walk, damn!”

Salem took a sip of coffee, muttering, “Make it a long one.”

As Rhea stomped toward the door — still talking under her breath about “ungrateful tech witches” — Beau called after her, “Don’t forget to hydrate, sugar!”

The door shut behind her, and silence settled in — blessed, peaceful silence.

Salem sighed, dropping back into her chair. “Sweet mother of bayous, I love that woman, but she’s two sips away from a system meltdown.”

Miles grinned. “She’s harmless.”

Salem gave him a side-eye. “You sure about that? I saw her rewire a control panel with a paperclip and a threat.”

Beau chuckled. “Still say she’s the fun one.”

River just smiled faintly, watching the coffee steam curl between them. “You’re all trouble,” he said.

Salem smirked over the rim of her mug. “Takes one to know one, Alpha.”