“You don’t believe that nonsense, do you?” Chad asks as he puts the pedal to the metal and hightails it out of there.
“It sounds preposterous, but why would he lie? What would he gain in doing so?”
Chad shrugs. “I don’t know, but it sounds like a crock of shit. Your parents run your dad’s family logistics business, and they’re as straitlaced and honorable as they come. What kind of suspicious shit could they possibly be involved in?”
“I’m not buying it either, but what if he’s right? What if they are involved in something and it’s put me at risk? It would explain why Dad felt the need to buy me an armored car.”
“Or he’s just an overprotective father worried because his only daughter has left home,” Chad says, clicking the key fob which opens the security gate at our complex.
“He wasn’t overly concerned when he left me alone for weeks at a time while him and Mom traveled overseas for business.” I remind my boyfriend. “No, something is definitely not right. My gut tells me not to ignore what that guy just said.”
“Maybe your dad feels guilty about that. Realizes he was lucky nothing happened to you while they were gone. Perhaps this is his way of making it up to you.”
“I don’t know. The car felt like overkill when he gave it to me,” I say, turning in my seat to stare at my boyfriend as he slowly maneuvers my SUV through the gates. “But it makes more sense if he believes I’m in danger.”
“Sweetheart.” Chad swings the car into my parking space and cuts the engine. Moving his seat back, he lifts me into his lap and circles his arms around me. “Your dad loves you. Do you really think he’d say nothing if he believed you were in danger?”
“He might if he didn’t want to worry me.” I bite down on my lip as another thought lands in my mind. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t object to Ares moving in. He figured it’s extra protection for me.”
“What the fuck am I?” Chad raises his brows, looking highly offended.
“Extra protection too.” I brush my lips gently across his. “My parents didn’t raise any objection when I told them I was moving in with you, and when they gave me the keys to the townhome, they made it clear you were included. I didn’t even have to negotiate your moving in.”
“Well, I know one way to put this to bed,” he says, unlocking the door and placing my feet on the ground outside.
“I need to ask my parents.”
“Yep, you do.” Chad climbs out and locks the car before slinging his arm over my shoulder. We walk toward the house together.
“It’s a conversation best had face to face, which rules Mom out. I’m going home for dinner on Sunday, so I’ll talk to Dad then.”
“Is the degenerate going too?” he inquires as we walk up the steps.
“Unfortunately, yes. I don’t suppose you want to come?”
“Even if I could stomach eating dinner with them, I can’t. I told Mom I’d join her and Tessa for dinner. She wants to hear all about the game.”
* * *
We are stuffing our faces with pizza when the sound of the front door slamming shut reaches our ears. “Quick,” Chad mumbles, talking with a mouth full of food. “Switch the channel.” We watched the footage Jase recorded of Ares losing his shit over his bike when we first came home, uploading a copy to the TV for this very moment. It’s just what I needed to cheer me up after Lo’s trainer friend freaked me the fuck out. I was laughing so hard I almost peed my pants as Ares went ballistic on screen.
Chad flicks the channel, and we settle back to watch just as Ares enters the room. Keeping our eyes glued to the screen, we wait to see what he does. No one says anything for a couple minutes until my stepbrother breaks the silence. Tossing a folded piece of paper at me from behind the couch, he says, “You owe me four hundred and thirty bucks.”
I open the page as he stomps across the room and turns off the TV. It’s an invoice for a tow truck and a new lock for his Triumph. I rise to my feet and thrust the invoice at him, doing my best to ignore the motor oil and grease streaked on his cheeks and smeared across his sleeveless T-shirt. He’s wearing dark work pants and scuffed, unlaced boots, and he’s the quintessential bad boy biker. Biceps flex and roll as he folds his inked arms across his impressive chest and glares at me. He’s not wearing his faux hawk today, favoring a messy flat look that should be banned because ho-lee-fuck.
I hate to admit it—even to myself—but Ares is sinfully hot, and my lady parts are going crazy with a craving to climb his muscular frame like a spider monkey.
“I’m not paying for that,” I retort, regaining my composure.
So what if he’s hot?
He’s still my stepbrother.
Still a jerk.
Still the biggest pain in my ass.
“You had it coming after you let the air out of my tire.”
