Breaker shoots me a look that promises retribution — warm, loving retribution, and probably a thorough tickling — and I just laugh, lifting my shoulders.
Because this man is mine. Even in glitter.
Especially in glitter.
Chapter Thirty-One
Breaker
By the time Riley and I make it back to The Noble Fir, I’ve wiped my face three times, shaken out my shirt, run my hands through my beard — twice — and every single time, the glitter multiplies; it’s not just static or some lingering residue, the shit is alive, clinging to my skin and clothes and every conceivable hair follicle as if it’s exactly where it belongs, like some parasite. A sparkly, vindictive parasite. Each brush of my hand sets off a little cloud of rainbow dust that catches in the pale afternoon light and glows with all the colors of humiliation. There is no dignity left. Not even a shred. But Riley, walking at my side, refuses to even look at me—not because she’s mad, but because she’s so close to breaking into hysterics that one glance in my direction will send her over the edge.
We step inside, and it’s like the whole bar freezes. Every head swivels in our direction. For half a second, there’s dead silence — then the hooting begins. Not just hooting, but hollering, catcalling, pounding on the tables. The place explodes.
Bones, perched at his usual barstool, is the first to break ranks. He leans back in his chair, stretching his arms wide as if he’s welcoming home a war hero. “Well, look who’s ready for his close-up!” he says, voice booming over the music.
Diesel whistles low. “Damn, Breaker. Didn’t know you were sobeautiful.”
Mayhem gasps dramatically. “He sparkles! Like a vampire from those movies!”
Havoc pats my shoulder, sending a new explosion of glitter into the air. “Brother, it is an honor to meet the Glitter King. May your reign be sparkly and your enemies blinded by your radiance.”
Tank crosses his arms. “He looks like a disco ball fucked a raccoon.”
Reaper chokes on his drink and coughs until Molly smacks him on the back.
Molly shakes her head at me. “If any glitter gets on my counter, I’m making you scrub the entire damn place with a toothbrush,” she warns, but there’s a little smile ghosting her lips, and I know she’s not serious. What I’m suffering now is more than enough punishment in her mind.
I glance sideways. Riley stands beside me, hands folded neatly at her waist, her gaze fixed somewhere on the wall behind the bar. She’s not joining in, not defending me either. The poor woman’s biting her lip so hard she might draw blood. She actually has to cover her mouth with one hand to stifle the laughter threatening to break loose. I nudge her with my elbow; she shakes her head, innocent as a saint.
Some loyalty.
I glare down at her, and she flashes me a devastatingly innocent smile that quivers like an earthquake big enough to crack the Richter scale.
Rabid finally pushes to his feet, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Oh hell.
The room quiets. Even Tank sits up straighter.
He steps forward, and then stops two feet away and lifts both palms.
“I’m not shaking your hand,” he says flatly. “I don’t want that glitter shit getting anywhere near me.” A chorus of laughtererupts around us. Rabid’s mouth twitches. “But I heard from Officer Alvarado you did an excellent job.”
I groan. “She told you?”
“She did.” Rabid nods solemnly and then smirks. “Said the Girl Scouts adored you. Said you make a beautiful man.”
“Did you know that was going to happen?”
“Why do you think I sent you, prospect? You’ve got to earn your stripes somehow. Or your sparkles, in this case.” He gives me an approving nod, and a few of the guys clap like this is some kind of achievement. “You did good.”
I cross my arms, looking toward the ceiling. “I’m never living this down, am I?”
Riley leans close, her breath warm on my ear.
“Well,” she whispers, “if you’re feeling like your manhood is threatened…” Her hand slides into mine, soft and warm. “I might have something in mind that can help you with that.”
I lift my head, eyebrow arched. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
She laughs — low, sweet, wicked — and starts tugging me toward the hallway leading to the back apartments. “Tickling,” she murmurs over her shoulder. “Now, shut up and come on.”
