“One of the many things that crawled up my butt and died, as you put it?” Chance rakes a hand down his face. “Him. Rick Vance.”
I follow Chance’s glare and glimpse an older man in pressed jeans and a crisp white snap shirt. He looks like he came out of a commercial for ironing starch. He’s walking our way. I can tell the second he sees us, or at least Chance, because his entire demeanor shifts. To anger. Rage, even. His face turns ruddy, and if I were closer, I’d probably see a vein bulging in his neck. His hands are clenched into fists.
Yeah, this guy doesn’t like Chance. Not one fucking bit.
Wait… Vance.
“You mean Carly’s father?”
“Also known as Mayor Vance,” Chance bites out. “You think I’m the only one with issues about you having your hand in Carly’s panties?”
And on her perfect tits at the spring.
I glance at Miles. I’ve only known my middle brother for a few days, but I recognize that look on his face. It mirrors my own.
This has got oh shit written all over it.