“We have a time and a place for that at Punch Out beach.” He hummed. “I could challenge him.”
“You could. Give him a shiner from me and my kitten.”
He snorted out a laugh. “What kind of milk are you feeding him?”
I rolled my eyes, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hold back a laugh. KC had told me some of my humor was similar to Luke’s and I could see it. “Shut up, dude.”
I glanced around the tattoo parlor. Oliver had stepped out to get us lunch at a nearby sushi place—which happened to be open as well, despite the frigid temperatures and strong wind. They were officially shutting the streets tonight, encouraging people to stay off the roads, so we were handling the customers for the day before we headed home. KC was waiting for us there.
Flint and Wylie pretended they weren’t listening to my conversation, but they definitely were. Flint gave me a pointed look over his shoulder, and I sent him the middle finger, making the woman in his chair laugh.
“I mean it, though. You know he—” I clamped my lips together. I couldn’t tell Luke about Darla being pregnant. Who knew what would happen if that information got out? Oliver would never forgive me. “PD told me Cain never wanted to be a dad and wasn’t father material. I fucking get it, right? Our dad’s a shit father. Some guys aren’t meant to be parents. But he treated my kitten bad. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him. Any dude knows there’s a chance of pregnancy when you stick it in a pussy. If you can’t take the responsibility of knocking someone up, fuck your hand.”
“Or another man,” Wylie offered with glee, flashing me perfect white teeth he must’ve had bleached recently. Still everyinch a Californian, even while he lived in cold as a witch’s tit New York.
“Right, or do back door. It’s not that difficult.” I waved my hand toward Wylie, then let my palm fall against my thigh. I’d parked my ass behind the counter after finishing with my last client before lunch and I’d waited until Oliver was out the door to call Luke and give him a piece of my mind. He was lucky I’d waited this long.
“Oli’s not a King. My club brothers like the kid, but we can’t defend his honor against another brother, Ren.”
“I’m your brother, too. Your brother by blood. You left me to defend myself against our parents and those conceited jackasses we call siblings.”
“I couldn’t take you with me?—”
“Shut the fuck up and listen, you little bitch.”
Wylie coughed into his bent elbow, hiding his face and the snorting laughter that he’d tried to muffle. His blond bangs covered his eyes.
Luke made an amused sound over the phone line. “Did you just call me?—”
“Yeah, I fucking did.” My fist tightened on my phone. “Either you and your brothers handle him or I will. Tell him to stay away from Oliver and his mom. And if you don’t give him a broken jaw, I will. Make a choice.” I ended the phone call.
It took me a moment to realize Wylie was staring wide-eyed at the front door, and my gaze shot there. Oliver stood just inside the shop, holding two paper bags of food. He stared at me with watery eyes, his adorable nose pink from the wind outside. He had two scarves wrapped around his neck, his puffy dark gray winter coat making him look like a fat seal, but I was smart enough not to say that out loud. He transferred the paper bag in his left hand to the one in his right before he kicked closed the door and yanked off his beanie.
“What did you tell him?” He stomped toward me, his combat boots thumping hard on the floor. “I don’t need Barber handling my dad.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kitten.” I gave him my most innocent smile and slotted my fingers under my chin, blinking rapidly. “I’m sweeter than honey.”
He glared. “You’re no sweeter than paint thinner on the tongue.”
“Hey. Lies!” I waggled my eyebrows. “I have something better for your tongue.”
“Ugh.” He slammed the paper bags on the counter and rubbed his pink-tinged cheeks. This time it was from the weather and not me. “It’s so fucking cold out there. The snow keeps piling up. It’s a blizzard.”
I took the topic change and ran with it. I didn’t know how much he’d heard, and the last thing I wanted while spending the next few days with him and KC in the nice warm apartment was for him to be angry at me. I leaned over the counter and cradled his face, noting how freezing his skin felt under my palms, and laid a kiss on the tip of his nose.
“We could be in sunny SoCal.” Flint threw a childish pout over his shoulder at me before his attention swung back to the woman in his chair. He was dressed in black from head to toe today, but that wasn’t unusual. I didn’t think he owned anything else. “How nice would it be in SoCal at this very moment?”
His client laughed. “Probably a lot nicer than here.”
“Right?Hedragged me to this frozen hell.” Somehow, his Southern twang made the words sound even more damning.
I rolled my eyes. “Stop your bitching. Be thankful you have a good-paying job and you’re working on awesome tattoos like Natalie’s.”
Natalie, Flint’s client, beamed at me. Flint was currently inking her dog’s face onto her arm, and the art was colorful andbright, something he was incredibly talented at tattooing. He infused hues in the most interesting ways and gave his pieces a dreamy watercolor appearance.
Oliver shot me a pointed look. “What were you saying to Barber?”
“Me? Nothing.” I slid around to the other side of the counter and pinched his cheek, and he swatted angrily at me.
