“What’d he say?” Lilah calls from the other side of the bank as she starts walking toward us, dragging her string of fish with her.
Just as she nears, I grin and say, “Says he wants me to ride with him and his entourage, but you’re not invited. Tonya’s idea.”
Joey darts a wide-eyed, panicked glance at me as he pales, horrified like I’ve betrayed him.
Lilah just smirks at him as she moves out onto the dock, getting closer to where they’re idling.
The girls all pale as well, and Tonya starts hissing for Joey to get them the hell out of there.
As Lilah pulls off one of the still-live fish, she winks at him.
“Hey, Joey. Remember that time Tonya there puked all over the fire station?” Lilah asks.
“The great Vomit Massacre of 2010,” I say, smirking.
Joey gives her a wary look, as Tonya squirms, eyeing the fish in Lilah’s hand.
As if he figures out what’s about to happen, Joey starts to gas his boat in reverse, and Lilah launches the fish. It smacks Tonya right in the face.
You can guess what happens next.
Tonya gags immediately, and turns right to Joey on instinct…and sprays all her lunch on him.
Joey curses, the boat veers hard to the right, tossing him off and killing the motor, as Tonya continues to cover the rest of the boat. Fortunately for the fish, one of the girls throws it off the boat, hoping to end the rancid upheaval, to no avail. And the fish swims away while the boat ride from hell stalls.
I turn away. My stomach isn’t exactly iron-clad or anything.
Lilah already has her string of fish back in the water, and is now fishing off the dock, grinning as she watches the spectacle.
Life couldn’t be better.
Chapter 15
Wild Ones Tip #238
It’s rare we have feelings. Don’t fuck with them when we do.
LILAH
“How in the hell did you do this?” I snap, glaring at the two idiots who are looking anywhere but at me as Benson works on fixing my front porch.
He casts a glare in their direction, but they continue to whistle and stare at the sky.
“Answer me,” I demand.
Hale finally blows out a breath.
“Fine. If you must know, we thought we’d conduct an experiment to see if buckshot was stronger than birdshot.”
Killian smirks. Hale feigns contrition.
“You’re serious,” I say, staring between them. “And you conducted this experiment on my porch?”
Killian shrugs before grumbling, “You’re never here anymore. Saw no harm in it.”
So that’s what this is about?
For the past two weeks, I’ve been at Benson’s, basically living with him, since he never wants me out of his bed. We’ve only been coming out here to fix things when they’re torn up—like my bed.
It’s been great.
For me.
Apparently my brothers are a little jealous.
“What if we did a dinner tonight at my place?” I ask them, feeling a small pang of sympathy laced with guilt.
They both shrug. “That would be nice,” Killian finally admits, still not making eye contact with me.
“And I’ll make peach cobbler,” I concede on a long breath.
This has both of them smiling.
“Go shower. You stink. And don’t shoot at my porch—or house at all—ever again.”
They both hug me, and I hold my breath, because they really do stink. Obviously they’ve been fileting fish all day or something. Then they jog off to their house to get showered.
“So I’m fixing your porch that they destroyed, and you’re cooking them peach cobbler,” Benson says on a frustrated breath. “That’s rewarding bad behavior. They’re totally playing you just to get cobbler, by the way.”
I grin as I come up behind him, and he tugs me to the ground in front of him as his lips seek mine. We kiss lazily, as though we have all the time in the world, until I break the kiss to explain.
“They’re a little jealous.”
“That’s gross,” he deadpans.
I shove at his chest while rolling my eyes. “Of you and me spending so much time together. They’re used to having me around to drive insane. I’m sure they’re bored to death without me.”
He shakes his head as I get up, and he hammers in the last board. He’s been working on this for half the day, while I scoured the woods for my brothers. When I found them, they didn’t come back willingly.
I had to threaten to tell Uncle Bill what they’d done before they’d even drag their feet back.
They’d already bought the supplies to fix the porch, and left a note for Benson to finish the job.
Passive aggressive isn’t their usual style.
“Well, I can’t stay for dinner tonight, so they’ll have you all to themselves,” Benson says distractedly, packing his tools up.
My lips purse. Maybe I’ve grown clingy, because we haven’t spent a second apart in two weeks, and now I don’t want him to be away from me all night.
“What’s going on tonight?”