“You’re not helping, Shea.”
Pretty Boy placed Lila’s refilled glass on the table before her.
“Would you like anything else, Your Majesty?”
She brushed him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Go away. And if I catch you staring at my ass one more time, I’ll key that beautiful paint job on your bike.”
“Ouch.” Pretty Boy clucked his tongue. “That’s a low blow, princess.”
“Do I look like I’m bluffing?”
He leaned over to look into Lila’s eyes. My face flushed with heat and I glanced away, feeling like I was intruding on a private moment.
“No, I can tell you’re serious,” Pretty Boy replied at last.
Lila looked satisfied with herself, sipping her wine.
“But, if you keep being mean to me like this,” he added. “I’m just going to fall in love with you even harder.”
She swatted at him. He laughed and skirted out of reach, escaping to the backyard. After he was gone, I turned to Lila with a pointed glance.
“What?” she demanded.
“I thought you liked it when he stared at your ass?”
She shrugged.
“I do. I like it when he stares at my tits, too. Especially when I’m wearing a push-up bra that makes the girls look incredible. It tortures him to see what he can’t have. But I will never tell him that. His ego is big enough already.”
“Are you ever going to have mercy on him?” I asked.
Lila snorted.
“Absolutely not. I’ve hated that man’s guts for nearly my entire life. I don’t intend to stop now. It’s a matter of principle at this point.”
The back door slammed, followed by the heavy tread of footsteps. Trooper appeared with Kenny slung over his shoulder.
“This scary tiger is on the hunt for a juice box,” he said. “The cooler has nothing but beer. Ironside said there should be some apple juice in the bottom drawer of the fridge.”
I rose from my chair and opened the fridge, searching until I found a juice box. After sticking the straw into the box for him, I handed it over to Kenny. His curls were windblown and tangled, his cheeks flushed pink from racing around the yard for hours. I combed my fingers through his hair, sweeping it off his forehead.
“You look like you could use a nap, little man,” I said.
Kenny vehemently shook his head.
“I’m not tired.”
“He doesn’t believe in naps,” Trooper said. “Bruiser and Brass have been teaching him how to wrestle in the hopes it might burn off some of that excess energy.”
“Is it working?”
Trooper shrugged.
“Bruiser and Brass are exhausted. Kenny is still going though.”
Swinging his nephew down from his shoulder, he tickled Kenny, making him squeal and wiggle with laughter. My heart squeezed, seeing the joy on Trooper’s face. He was such a good uncle.
