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“Sometimes I think he’s the teenager, and I’m the dirty old man,” Atlas teased, making water squirt out of my nose while my father pounded the table as he roared his amusement at my expense.
My mother, who had a great sense of humor, let out a trilling sound that I hadn’t heard in a long while—so long my father’s green eyes were practically glowing with awe as he watched his wife laugh.
His head slowly turned, and then he stared at Atlas like she was the second coming.
Ever since my mom’s accident, her days alternated between extreme highs and lows. Still, nothing had made her as happy as her only son bringing a girl home finally.
Or anyone really.
I’ll never forget that time my mom had gotten it into her head that I was gay, and that’s why I hadn’t brought anyone home to meet her. She made it clear that she and my father loved me no matter what, and after I caught on, I made it clear they had no choice and that my sexual preferences steered firmly toward women.
“Oh, Michael,” my mother said after we started to dig in. “I forgot the syrup.”
My father immediately set his fork down to do her bidding.
“Oh, no, Ms. Heidi,” Atlas said when my father started to stand. “You and your husband worked so hard already. Owen isn’t doing anything. He can get it.”
My chewing slowed as my gaze slid to Atlas, who tilted her head and silently dared me to object.
Sliding my tongue over my front teeth, I nodded and stood to doherbidding.
“Oh, I like you,” my mother said with a wink. “I think you’re exactly what my brutish son needs.”
Now that I’d met Rowdy’s parents and it had gone better than expected, I was just grateful to have it over with. Meeting Sutton’s parents hadn’t gone nearly as well since I’d met ice cubes warmer than his mother, and his father had wandering eyes.
It was just after noon during my shift when I heard the shop’s front door open.
It was my first day back in two weeks, so I was behind the reception desk, catching up on emails and paperwork that Tuesday had understandably been too overwhelmed to keep up with.
I was currently dealing with a particularly nasty email from a customer inquiring about the status of his repairs. I was trying—and failing—to find a non-snarky way to remind the pushy customer that the agreed-upon timeline for his repairs was two weeks, and it had only been three days.
I read over my response one last time and hit send.
The man’s questions were just too stupid for me to answer honestly without sounding sarcastic. I’d probably get in trouble, but I wasn’t worried. Rowdy would lecture me even though he wasworse, I’d pout, and then he’d kiss me and tell me to behave before sending me on my way. Now that we were dating, the other Kings always let Rowdy handle me, so they wouldn’t say anything either.
“Hello, welcome to Pride of Kings. Do you have an appoint—” The question died on my lips when I looked up and saw who was standing there. “Oh. Hi.”
Jada flashed a dazzling smile that I didn’t buy for one moment. The gesture was too strained, her eyes too assessing. “Hello.” Her shaped brows bunched contemplatively. “Atlas, right?”
Bitch, you know my name.
“Yup.”
“It’s nice to see you again. I, um, I hope you’re feeling better.”
Detecting the first morsel of sincerity from her, I forced myself to relax.
Jada hadn’t done anything to me, so there was no reason not to like her. I just didn’t trust her, and I had no reason for that either.
Jada, Joren, and the rest of the Kings had come to see me during my short stay in the hospital, and she’d acted just as phony and withdrawn then as she had on the lake. Jada and Joren had barely stayed a full hour, but I often caught her studying me like I was a ticking time bomb that could explode at any minute.
“Thanks. I am. Did you want me to grab Joren for you?” The sooner I could get her out of my face, the better for both of us.
Even now, her flawless face was pinched as if she could barely stomach the sight of me.
There were few reasons a woman would act this way toward another woman they barely knew. Usually, when they thought you were fucking their man.
The thought of Joren and I having sex was almost laughable, and it wasn’t because he wasn’t attractive. Each time I tried to put myself in Jada’s head by picturing Joren and I naked and writhing together, my mind instantly revolted, shutting it down while I fought the urge to hurl. I hated him, so it made perfect sense.
