Boring. Kansas is your nn. When I’m finished fucking you, I can say “I’m not in Kansas anymore, Kitten.”
I rolled my eyes. Was he fucking serious? Still, I groaned with a chuckle.
Inked God Ren
Tell kitten we need to chat. I want to apologize and explain.
Well, that was something.
I stood and went to my room to join Oli. We could shower, then get to bed, but Ren had better show up with flowers or something big for Oli as an apology or I’d kick his ass myself. He still wasn’t forgiven for using us, and he didn’t want to add another charge to his rap sheet.
4
RENSHAW “REN” BOOTH
I slammed my head back against Shakira’s seat as I came toanotherfucking red light and groaned. This was not the day to be hitting every red light in existence. I was already a ball of nerves, muscles aching from how tense I’d been alone all night in my big bed. I’d barely slept. My eyes burned to the point I was scared that if I closed them for too long, I’d nod off while driving. Sleeping through all my fuckups was a talent of mine, but not when it came to Oliver and KC. They had me wrapped around their little fingers. My head was a fucking mess because of them.
My phonebuzzed, and I picked it up from the cup holder to check. I had a message from an unknown number. I frowned and tapped the screen.
Unknown Number
Hey dickhead. It’s your brother. You know, the one whose life you were trying to ruin.
I snorted. Asshole.
Unknown Number
KC said we had to work our shit out. Come to Uncle Errol’s house tonight. You can meet him and his daughter.
Unknown Number
Bring KC and Oli. They love Errol. Be there at 6. We’re bringing out the smoker. And don’t be a shithead or I’ll kick your ass. Bring dessert or some shit.
I stared at the messages, my eyes eating up each word. They echoed in my head as I read them again and again until I wasn’t sure how I felt. I’d promised KC and Oliver that I’d make up with Luke, that we’d talk and work out our issues.
Someone blasted their horn behind me, and I jerked, dropping my phone back into the cup holder. Shit, the light was green. I hit the gas and focused on the road in front of me.
I hadn’t met UncleErrol yet, but I’d heard a lot about him. From Father, mostly. He had different views of the man than KC and Oliver did, that was for sure. In the few times we’d talked about him, KC and Oliver raved about what an awesome guy he was and how he made them laugh. KC mentioned how he blew shit up in his yard and it was a fun time. Father, however, had always said how much of a delinquent he was.
“If you’re not careful, you’ll end up like your Uncle Errol,” he’d say, as if it was an absolutely shitty thing to be.
God fucking damnit. Father had a way of getting into my head, even though I was an adult and lived on the other side of the country. He hadn’t called since I’d moved, but that wasn’t surprising. I was the child who had disappointed him, above only Luke in the rankings of how much he liked his kids. The factthat I’d become a tattoo artist was one of the many things he’d despised.
How would he feel about KC and Oliver?
I shook my head. I wasn’t going to let Father destroy a relationship from all the way in LA. He’d ruined enough of my life, which meant I needed to get my shit together. Oliver had shared something pivotal with me last night, and I’d shut down faster than a hooker who wasn’t getting paid. I needed to get over my drama and stop being a loser around my men or they were going to leave.
I wouldn’t blame them.
By the time I pulled Shakira into the driveway at KC’s massive house, I was jiggling my knee nervously. The last time I was here on Vert Island didn’t come with great memories, mostly because I’d fucked up the first time. It was amusing, in a way, because my plan of getting revenge on Luke had barely gotten off the ground before I went and fell in love with these two adorable assholes. Now I had to find a way to make them stick with me.
Luckily, I didn’t have to go up to the door. KC and Oliver came out before I turned off Shakira, my magenta Mustang GT Fastback. The sight of my guys made me pause. Oliver had on a pair of faded blue jeans that melded against his thighs, but it was his shirt—or KC’s shirt, I should say—that had my mouth watering. KC’s football jersey hung loosely from his shoulders. There was something sexy about Oliver wearing KC’s number fifty-two large and prominent on the front of the blue-and-white jersey. NGU Riders stood out boldly above the numbers.
I lowered the window. “Turn around, Kitten. Let me see our boy’s name on your back.”
Oliver flushed and his eyebrows furrowed. I couldn’t help but grin at his angry kitten face. Still, he turned for me.
I groaned when the name “Beaumont” came into view, spread across his shoulders in ownership. My cock twitched, a blast of pleasure striking me and landing straight in my balls. Warmth spread through me, joining the desire that roiled there. “Fuuuuuck.”