“Who’re you talking to? Who’s Toppy Vato?”
“Huh?”
“How’re you two doing?” Declan asked.
“He’s talking to himself wasted, and I’m way past good,” Gunny said. “I’m also wondering how I’m getting my ass home. Y’all done got me drunk.”
“You got your truck keys, Gunny?” Walker asked when he walked up.
“Yessir.”
“Gimme them.”
“Hand yours over too, Hayden,” Declan ordered.
“Vato’s being bossy.”
Gunny nearly fell out laughing while fighting to get his keys out of his pocket.
“Damn, Gunny, how much you had?”
“Shut yer mouth, kid.”
“Yessir.”
“Hayden, the keys.”
“What?”
“Fuck me,” Declan growled, gripping my thighs.
“Vato, carinõ, I’ll fuck you, but you gotta wait. Your mama and daddy are watching. That’s a bit weird.”
“Declan, get the boy in the house before the kids learn about things they’re too young to know yet.”
“Vato…”
“Shut up. Not another word.”
“¡Sí cariño! Pero tengo muchas ganas de chingarte. Pero primero quiero comerte el culo.”
“Mijo, somos de Texas. Todos hablamos español.”
My gaze traveled from Declan’s face to his dad, who was standing behind him. “You speak Spanish?”
“Like I said, son, we’re from Texas. The whole family speaks Spanish. Even the kids, so maybe cool it on telling your husband what you want to do to him in bed.”
“Oh. That’s bad. Like nobuenobad.”
Laughter erupted from around the yard, and Declan turned, looking around, and said, “Y’all assholes who kept feeding them beer while I helped clean up, get over here and help me.”
Brock and Adam came over and helped Declan get me on my feet. I bitched about it until the alcohol cut my knees out from under me, and the ground rushed toward me.
“Whoa!” I cried.
“Fuck he’s heavy,” said the little one in the hot gay couple who could fucking cook.
“That’s cause you’re pocket-sized,” I told him.
