For all Isla has told us that bikers aren’t something she can be around, Kai is seemingly winning her over.
It’s impossible to not fall for his flirting. God knows I tried. The night we met, he leaned too close on purpose, the breath ofhis low voice brushed over my ear as he spoke. He’d smile slow and run his hands through all that dark hair of his until I was desperate to run my own fingers through it. Twice, I thought about leaving, twice, he slid his fingers through the belt loops on my jeans to tug me closer.
I didn’t stand a chance. Never have.
And watching him now, it’s easy to see him winning Isla over in the same way.
“How many siblings do you have?” I hear Isla ask.
“Five,” Kai replies. “My mom wanted an even number. Two was too few. Four meant we needed a minivan anyway. So, we ended up with six of us.”
“And what’s your position?” Isla asks.
“Fifth. Youngest brother of the four boys.”
I remember the first time I met them all at a party for his mom’s birthday one August. The volume was like being at a rock concert. Loud music, and siblings who took after their mom, pumping out kids like they were an automotive assembly line. Last count, Kai has nineteen nieces and nephews.
Our annual Christmas and birthday present bill is as big as our annual mortgage payments. Okay, not quite. But we spend close to ten grand with all the parents, siblings, and niblets to buy for.
Not that I care, because it makes Kai happy to do it.
“Is that going in the truck?” I ask.
Isla shakes her head. “No. Someone is going to collect it later. I’m just leaving it down the side of the house for them.”
I nod. “I should take this and do another run. Why don’t the two of you carry on and?—”
Kai snatches the keys out of my hand. “I’ll take it. You help Isla go through the house and tear out anything else we can take in the next load.”
“You should stay,” I say, hoping he can tell by my eyes I want him to.
Instead, he gives me a grin that says he knows what I’m doing, throwing the two of them together. “But I want to drive. I’ll see you in about forty minutes.”
Kai hops in the truck and has the fucking audacity to wave when he pulls off the drive.
“Do you have any siblings, Garrett?” Isla asks.
I shake my head. “No. Just me. Only child. You?”
Isla sighs. “Only child too. Was yours at least a happy childhood?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little bit.”
“Garrett,” she says, and the care in her tone is almost my undoing. “That might be the only thing we have in common.”
“Yours wasn’t?”
She shakes her head. “Not even a little bit.” She says the words exactly the same way I said them.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
“Let’s just say I grew up around addiction and alcohol and leave it there.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Anyway, I heard on a podcast that every day is a new day to choose happiness.”
I need more than a second to process what she just said, but instead of coming up with something comforting or soothing, I simply say, “Yeah.”
The silence hangs awkwardly, for a second. I wish I had Kai’s flair for conversation. “So, should we move some junk out to give you some space?”
“Yes,” Isla says.
