Page 73 of Tony

“What about your mom?”

“Shit.”

“Your mom comes first. Vann Vaughn can take care of himself. And I don’t mean that facetiously. I mean they’re the fucking Vaughn brothers, OK? People have his back. We’re on our own here, Sosh. My team is back in Key West. So we go to your mom’s first, then we take this back to Belinda and Vann.”

I say this with a finality she doesn’t even bother to fight. She just puts her crappy car into gear and pulls back on to the highway.

And even though I’ve got a million terrible things on my mind, my mind is slightly distracted by the fact that I’m going to meet Soshee’s mother.

Who is a fortune-teller.

And that might make me even more nervous than the FBI problem back in Fort Collins.

She could see a terrible future for us.

Or… see past my charming side and find the darkness underneath.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - BELINDA

I lean against Vann’s back and hold him tight around the waist as we ride north of Fort Collins. Not because I like the smell of his leather, or because I’m enjoying the feel of his hard abs—well, OK, maybe both of those things too—but the main reason is that he’s a pretty great windbreak.

Mmm-hmm, my inner voice is saying. Riiiight, Belinda. He’s a good windbreak.

I’ve been trying to ignore that inner voice since Vann left my apartment last night but it’s fairly persistent on insisting that I might, in fact, be falling for a man I swore I had no feelings for.

I have insisted, hundreds of times, that I have no feelings for him. So many times, in fact, it’s more like an automatic mantra these days than a well-thought-out decision. And, to be perfectly honest, I’m not even buying it anymore, so it’s no wonder that my inner voice is gloating.

I like him.

Of course I like him. I have always liked him. Anyone who doesn’t fall for the charms of Vann Vaughn is just a liar. They might not want to be his best friend—or girlfriend, as was my case—but he’s an easy person to like.

You just want to look at him. He smiles when he talks. Almost always, without fail. And that smile comes with flashing dimples and bright sky-blue eyes. He has classic good looks. Square jaw, perfectly symmetrical face, tall, lean body that has well-defined muscles, but not the kind his brother Vic is sporting. I have never seen Vann work out and I’ve lived above his garage for several years now.

They have a gym downstairs. The garage houses all their bikes—even their gramps has a bike, though he doesn’t ride it anymore. He rides in their father Vern’s sidecar when they all go out for a family ride. So there’s a bunch of bikes and a whole mess of gym machines. They’re in there almost every day at some point. All of them, even Gramps.

Except Vann. So Vann’s muscles aren’t bulky. They’re just genetically perfect.

I’ve seen him with his shirt off millions of times. These Vaughn men don’t wear shirts at home once the weather turns nice. Of course they don’t. They want to show off their ink. They are like walking billboards for Sick Boyz.

And yes, I can appreciate the sexiness of all the Vaughn brothers. But up until last night I looked at them like… an observer. Not one directly involved with their lives, but on the sidelines.

Now?

Well, I think this ride counts as my very first official date with Vann.

And when we turn onto a road called Bombs-A-Way and stop at a driveway gate announcing our entrance to a place called Shrike Ranch and Vann presses in the code to open the gate and allow us to enter the driveway, I realize what’s really happening here.

He’s taking me to his sister Veronica’s house.

The older sister. It’s a roadblock for a potential girlfriend wanting to date a baby brother much like a mother-in-law can be a roadblock when you want to marry a man.

There is no mother at the Vaughn house. At least that’s what I thought. But once we make it down the long driveway and the huge farmhouse comes into view, I realize my mistake.

There is a mother here. And her name is Veronica.

Vann eases the bike up next to Spencer Shrike’s personal ride and cuts the engine. We get off the bike and as soon as Vann gets the strap of his helmet unfastened, he is practically tackled by a gang of little girls.

His nieces, plus a few visiting friends, start jumping up and down tugging on his hands, and his jacket, and one very small one is trying to climb his leg like a tree.