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For a moment, everything else fades—the questions, the doubts, the ghosts of past mistakes.
In this second, there’s just Bama and a desperately needed cold Smirnoff Ice Raspberry.
“Here ya go, sweetheart.” He grins, reaching into the fridge behind him.
The bottle emerges with a frosty sheen, and he pops the cap with practiced ease, sliding it across the counter to me.
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the bottle and bringing it to my lips. The first sip is a bitter relief, washing away the grit of the day.
I end up chugging the beer and take a seat at the bar. God, I don’t know if it’s all the stress from last night with Blake or if it might happen to be hiding the fact I slept with Bama from everyone.
“It’s good to see you relaxing for once,” Bama says, sliding me another beer without asking.
His fingers brush mine, and the touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to my core.
“Don’t get used to it,” I reply playfully, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I like keeping you on your toes.”
“Is that so?” He leans in closer, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Think you can handle that, Jordyn?”
“Try me,” I shoot back, raising an eyebrow.
The tension between us is thick, almost tangible. And damn, do I like it. There’s something hot about the playful banter the two of us have.
“Maybe I will,” he murmurs, his voice low and promising.
Before I can respond, a heavy arm drapes over my shoulders.
I look up to see one of my fathers, Dracus, his presence immediately grounding me.
“Hey there, Firecracker,” he greets, pulling me into a half-hug.
Bama raises his brows. “Firecracker? There’s gotta be a story behind that.”
Dad laughs hard. “Oh, there is. When Jordyn was five, she thought it was a great idea to grab a box of firecrackers and light them up under Zane’s bike. Nearly blew the damn thing up.”
Bama can’t help but laugh his ass off.
I shrug. “Yep, so now I’m Firecracker.”
Dad chuckles and tugs me close to him. “How was your day?”
“Not bad,” I say, leaning into his familiar warmth. “Busy, but good. Tara and I managed to close up shop pretty quick.”
“Kelsey, okay? I know Tara doesn’t usually close with you,” he rumbles, kissing the top of my head.
“Yeah, some sort of family thing going on.” I shrug. “I didn’t ask for the details, but I hope she’s okay.”
He nods. “Me too. So, you know you can call us if you need us, right? We wouldn’t have given you shit for drinkin’ a little too much.”
A pang of guilt hits me right in the chest. “I know, I probably should’ve called, but when I went on Facebook, I saw that Bama was active, so I called him. I’m not gonna wake you guys if I don’t have to.”
“You should have called one of us. It’s not his job to go get our hungover daughter,” one of my other fathers’ voice cuts in as he approaches, his expression a mix of concern and irritation.
“Had it covered.” I shrug, trying to downplay the situation. “It really wasn’t a big deal. Bama had it covered.”
“Still,” my dad, Bolt, presses, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re your family. We’re here for you.”
“Okay, okay,” I sigh, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “Next time, I’ll be sure to call one of the three of you, okay?”
