Matthias cocks his head, and we all head toward the table, which is set for nine. Wylder must’ve known I’d bring Ansel.
I like the feeling that gives me.
Samson is by the bar in the corner. He doesn’t look up at our arrival. In his right hand is a bottle of whiskey, and in the other is a dagger. He really should put that away; it’s not suitable for dinner.
But then again, there was a time when all he’d eat with was that knife. So perhaps he’s back in his caveman era.
“What’s got him all pissed?” I ask as we wander over.
Dalton sighs, swirling his wine in his glass. His eye is almost as black as Ansel’s, which pleases me. “When is he not pissed? Someone probably looked at him the wrong way, or maybe he tied his shoe wrong. It could be anything.”
“He’s a glass-half-empty kind of person?” Ansel asks curiously, and Dalton laughs.
“No, more like there is no glass. It’s broken on the floor, and the water is all over his shirt.”
“I heard that,” Samson says loudly, pointing his dagger at Dalton. “Don’t make me mad. I’ve had a fucking day.”
“Am I lying? You’re always mad,” I pipe up, and Samson glowers at me, too.
Wyatt hands Ansel a glass and pours him some wine—a generous portion, I might add. “You’ll need this for your first family dinner. It can be a lot.”
“Hey,” I protest. “We’re not a lot.”
“You’re more than a lot.” Wyatt rolls his eyes before turning his attention to Ansel again. “And don’t ever come to game nights unless you want to see blood.”
Ansel’s face pales. So much for not scaring him off. I pull him closer and tsk. “Don’t listen to him. He’s not a reliable source. Our game nights are fun. We’re a little competitive, but who isn’t?”
Ansel eyes me suspiciously. “Why do I believe him more than you?”
“You should always believe me more. I’m your boyfriend.”
“Oh my god.” He blushes. “We aren’t boyfriends.”
“You’re meeting the family, so yes, we are. Come on. Let’s go sit down. You don’t need to hear this shit. Liars! The lot of you!” I shout this and am only met with laughter. Fuckers, all of them.
I pull out a chair for Ansel right next to me. His new spot. I hope he likes it because I plan on him sitting there a lot in the future. I sit down and watch as my brothers take their own places. All except Wylder, who exits the room at the sound of the bell ringing. Samson grumbles, a reminder that Candace will be joining us for dinner, and that makes everyone groan loudly.
Ansel leans in to whisper to me, “What’s going on? Why is everyone bad-mouthing Candace?”
“She’s my brother’s girlfriend. Her appearance means we have to be on our best behavior. I don’t know why because no one likes her.”
A little dip appears between his brows. “Why?”
“She’s a bitch,” Samson says from his seat opposite us, stabbing his knife into the table and flicking it. “But we try our best to be nice because he likes her.”
Dalton grimaces and then sighs. “I’d prefer it if she were dead.”
“Please,” Matthias huffs, mimicking our older brother. “Behave.”
We all laugh at that, and Wyatt rolls his eyes at his husband.
Suddenly, the door opens and Harley walks in, a little bit of sauce on the side of his lip. His hair is a curly mess, and he looks slightly unkempt. As is usual.
“Got something there, brother.” Matthias taps at his lip.
Harley’s tongue peeks out and swipes it away. “Jules let me taste if I promised not to tell.” He sinks into the seat next to Ansel and grabs the bottle of whiskey from Samson, taking a swig right from the spout.
“Sounds dirty,” I quip.
