by C. M. Owens
As Lilah pulls off one of the still-live fish, she winks at him.
“Hey, Joey. Remember that time Tonya there puked all over the fire station?” Lilah asks.
“The great Vomit Massacre of 2010,” I say, smirking.
Joey gives her a wary look, as Tonya squirms, eyeing the fish in Lilah’s hand.
As if he figures out what’s about to happen, Joey starts to gas his boat in reverse, and Lilah launches the fish. It smacks Tonya right in the face.
You can guess what happens next.
Tonya gags immediately, and turns right to Joey on instinct…and sprays all her lunch on him.
Joey curses, the boat veers hard to the right, tossing him off and killing the motor, as Tonya continues to cover the rest of the boat. Fortunately for the fish, one of the girls throws it off the boat, hoping to end the rancid upheaval, to no avail. And the fish swims away while the boat ride from hell stalls.
I turn away. My stomach isn’t exactly iron-clad or anything.
Lilah already has her string of fish back in the water, and is now fishing off the dock, grinning as she watches the spectacle.
Life couldn’t be better.
Chapter 15
Wild Ones Tip #238
It’s rare we have feelings. Don’t fuck with them when we do.
LILAH
“How in the hell did you do this?” I snap, glaring at the two idiots who are looking anywhere but at me as Benson works on fixing my front porch.
He casts a glare in their direction, but they continue to whistle and stare at the sky.
“Answer me,” I demand.
Hale finally blows out a breath.
“Fine. If you must know, we thought we’d conduct an experiment to see if buckshot was stronger than birdshot.”
Killian smirks. Hale feigns contrition.
“You’re serious,” I say, staring between them. “And you conducted this experiment on my porch?”
Killian shrugs before grumbling, “You’re never here anymore. Saw no harm in it.”
So that’s what this is about?
For the past two weeks, I’ve been at Benson’s, basically living with him, since he never wants me out of his bed. We’ve only been coming out here to fix things when they’re torn up—like my bed.
It’s been great.
For me.
Apparently my brothers are a little jealous.
“What if we did a dinner tonight at my place?” I ask them, feeling a small pang of sympathy laced with guilt.
They both shrug. “That would be nice,” Killian finally admits, still not making eye contact with me.
“And I’ll make peach cobbler,” I concede on a long breath.
This has both of them smiling.
“Go shower. You stink. And don’t shoot at my porch—or house at all—ever again.”
They both hug me, and I hold my breath, because they really do stink. Obviously they’ve been fileting fish all day or something. Then they jog off to their house to get showered.
“So I’m fixing your porch that they destroyed, and you’re cooking them peach cobbler,” Benson says on a frustrated breath. “That’s rewarding bad behavior. They’re totally playing you just to get cobbler, by the way.”
I grin as I come up behind him, and he tugs me to the ground in front of him as his lips seek mine. We kiss lazily, as though we have all the time in the world, until I break the kiss to explain.
“They’re a little jealous.”
“That’s gross,” he deadpans.
I shove at his chest while rolling my eyes. “Of you and me spending so much time together. They’re used to having me around to drive insane. I’m sure they’re bored to death without me.”
He shakes his head as I get up, and he hammers in the last board. He’s been working on this for half the day, while I scoured the woods for my brothers. When I found them, they didn’t come back willingly.
I had to threaten to tell Uncle Bill what they’d done before they’d even drag their feet back.
They’d already bought the supplies to fix the porch, and left a note for Benson to finish the job.
Passive aggressive isn’t their usual style.
“Well, I can’t stay for dinner tonight, so they’ll have you all to themselves,” Benson says distractedly, packing his tools up.
My lips purse. Maybe I’ve grown clingy, because we haven’t spent a second apart in two weeks, and now I don’t want him to be away from me all night.
“What’s going on tonight?”
He steps back to look at his handiwork before answering almost absently. “My family gets in tonight. They’ll be here for a week, so I’ll have to slip over and visit you when I can until they’re gone.”
He says it so matter-of-factly, as though this isn’t a major shot to the gut. Like he didn’t just make me feel like a dirty secret.
“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound as deflated as I feel.
I still don’t know how wealthy his family is, but I estimate it’s very wealthy, based on the tidbits of information he’s shared over the past two weeks. It didn’t bother me or even concern me, until now.
I never stopped to realize that a girl from Tomahawk, who wears combat boots with shorts, and braids her hair when she’s too lazy to brush it, and usually goes without makeup, would be an embarrassing woman to introduce to someone’s prestigious family.
I get it. I do.
Sort of.
It still stings though.
“Right,” I say when silence fills the air.
“Anyway, I need to get back and get cleaned up before the yearly week from hell begins,” he says, turning to face me with a tight smile.
I try to act like everything is cool, not like I’m embarrassed or suddenly feeling like I’m worth a little less to him.
He kisses me chastely, and I stare after him as he walks away.
At least now I realize why we drove both boats over here, instead of just taking one. He didn’t want to leave me without my boat for the week.
How thoughtful.
Do I want to stab something? Maybe a little.
Do I want to shoot my new porch he just fixed to be petulant? Maybe a lot.
Instead, I turn and walk into the house, refusing to dwell on it, grab the spare keys to Killian’s Jeep, and walk over to borrow it.
I also understand why Benson fixed my bed now, even though I didn’t have any plans of sleeping on it for the foreseeable future.
It’s not like I expected to spend every waking moment together. Okay, so maybe I did. Which is ridiculous, really. I, who never wanted a serious relationship, is upset about not being good enough to meet the family.
“I bet his family sure as hell wouldn’t be pressuring me for marriage,” I mutter to myself. “They’d probably sanitize their hands after touching me.”
Miffed, degraded, and feeling inadequate, I drive to the store to buy stuff to cook for my brothers.
At least they’re not ashamed of me.
I’m shopping for all of five minutes when I run into Janice Holland, the town’s busiest busybody. Benson was with me the last time I had to face her down.
“Oh! You look so pitiful, Lilah! Where’s Benson?”
I force a smile. “He’s at his house. He has his family over today, and I’m picking up some supplies to cook dinner for my brothers.”
Her eyes ooze with mock sympathy, and I frown, wondering why in the hell she’s feigning a sympathetic look at all. “Oh, it’s okay, sweet girl. There are plenty more fish in the sea, and we all know you’re a tigress on the prowl when you want to be.”
I open my mouth to speak, when she continues.
“It’s just that it’s clear Benson’s family is made out of a lot of money. I’m sure you understand why this had to be,” she prattles on, twisting that invisible knife in my gut a little deeper.
I’m about to cunt punch her.
“Janice, you don’t—”
“And don’t you da
re worry about people talking about it. Trust me. It’ll pass,” she adds patronizingly.
She pats my shoulder, and I say, “But we’re not—”
“Shhh,” she coos, putting her finger to my lips.
Does she want this tigress to bite that damn thing off? Because that’s seconds away from happening. You don’t touch a Vincent. This should be a widely known, well-documented fact.
“Don’t worry, dear. Don’t worry. This, too, shall pass,” she essentially purrs.
She scurries off, practically riding that shopping cart toward the front, and I roll my eyes.
Stupid town.
Stupid people.
Stupid Benson.
Chapter 16
Wild Ones Tip #487
Wild Ones don’t always think things through, and we like to act before you can speak.
To hell with the words and stuff.
LILAH
“Die! Die, motherfucker!” Killian laughs at the TV as he shoots Hale’s avatar over and over.
“That’s cheating!” Hale accuses.
I’m vaguely aware of them both as I peer through the window with my trusty binoculars, trying to get a glimpse of Benson’s elusive family who are arriving now.
They’re having to park around the side, since his driveway is too small for too many cars. For once, I knew the exact day—and time frame—they were coming, which has upped my stalker game.
Does he have a sister too? Because I get a brief glimpse of a woman who is too young to be his mother.
Why haven’t I heard about a sister?!
Or maybe it’s his brother’s new girlfriend or something.
I hate that he doesn’t want me there with him. I could help keep him distracted from the brother drama he’s stuck in. I’d be an awesome distraction, as a matter of fact.
They disappear before I can be truly sure of anything, and I go back to the table to stab my fork at the cobbler. Or what’s left of it, anyway. I forgot how much my brothers can eat.
“Is Benson coming over later?” Killian asks, his attention mostly focused on the TV.
“Just us tonight,” I grumble.
“I need a new challenge. Hale is too easy to kill.”
“Fuck you,” Hale growls, just as the screen fills with blood and Killian cheers for himself.
Killian stands, and his phone rings on his hip. He flips it open—yes, he has a flip phone—and answers it.
“Hello?”
I start cleaning up the plates from dinner, and half-heartedly listen in.
“No. I don’t think so…well, actually, that would make sense.”
I glance over to see Killian’s lips tense as his eyes darken. What’s wrong?
“Thanks for telling me, Aunt Penny. Hale and I can handle this from here.”
He hangs up and stalks toward me. Hale is right on his heels like he knows he’s needed. Who’s going to die?
“Did Benson break up with you?” Killian demands, and Hale’s eyes narrow to slits.
“Is that why you’ve been so quiet and looking through the binoculars over there?” Hale adds immediately, his tone lethal.
“No…we didn’t break up,” I say carefully, knowing I’m navigating a landmine field right now.
“Then why do you look so crestfallen?” Hale asks seriously.
“Crestfallen? Did you actually just use the word crestfallen appropriately?” I ask, trying to distract him with something shiny.
“Answer the question,” Killian growls.
I roll my eyes.
“His family is in town,” I say with a shrug, trying to act like I’m not the least bit bothered by it.
“So?” they both ask at the same time.
“So, you know how he is. He doesn’t let anyone meet his family.”
Again I offer a one-shoulder shrug, and go back to washing the dishes like I enjoy it, as though I’m completely unaffected by the fact I’m too embarrassing to have around a fancy family.
“In other words, he has his family over, and they’re too good for him to introduce you to them?” Killian snarls.
Okay, so my brother is a little more perceptive than I give him credit for being.
“That’s not what this is,” I grumble, not even sounding convincing to my own ears.
“Right. Excuse us,” Hale says, and they spin on a heel and leave.
That’s never a good thing.
Ever.
I quickly dry off my hands and tug on my boots, then grab my BB gun just in case, making it outside in time to see them walking toward the dock.
Killian has a bat over his shoulder. Hale has a shovel over his.
I pale.
“What the hell are you doing?” I bark, running after them as they get on the boat.
“Breaking something. Don’t worry. We don’t intend to kill him,” Killian answers flippantly.
“Then what’s the shovel for?” I yell as I run faster, trying to catch up before they take off.
“In case things get out of hand,” Hale says with a smirk. “Shit happens.”
I lunge just in time, landing in the boat as Killian gasses it away from the dock, and I start struggling with Hale, trying to take the shovel away.
“You’re not doing this! Stop the damn boat!” I shout.
“No one acts like they’re too good for our baby sister!” Hale barks.
“I’m your older sister! Stop the damn boat!” I shout at Killian.
He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop at all.
They’re leaving me with no choice; I’m going to have to shoot them.
Chapter 17
Wild Ones Tip #142
If you date a Wild One, you can’t complain.
You knew you were getting mixed up in some crazy shit.
BENSON
My mother is the first to walk through the door, and her eyes widen in shock when she sees me.
“Benson! You finally got rid of that horrid beard.”
I’m not lying when I say there are tears in her eyes. She practically squeezes my face in half when she gets her hands on me.
I’m vaguely aware of John, her husband, walking in behind her. Right behind him is my brother, who nods in my direction before disappearing out of sight. It always takes us a minute to be in the same room without me trying to kill him.
Usually.
But today, for some reason, I don’t even care to see him.
Actually, I know what that reason is, and she’s across the lake. I’m ready to find time to sneak out of here so I can go be with her.
Mom releases me just as Sadie walks in, and I take a steadying breath. Usually my chest hurts as residual betrayal slinks in and squeezes me, immediately followed by the need to wring her neck.
Not today.
Today, for the first time ever, I feel absolutely nothing when I see her.
No anger.
No hurt.
Nothing at all.
A small smile forms on my lips, and she takes it wrong, smiling back widely at me.
Shit. No bad beard. She’s looking at me like she used to, and I’m smiling about the fact I’m in deeper than I even realized for Lilah. I’m not smiling at my ex. But she is smiling at me.
I break eye contact, clearing my throat as I look back down at my mother.
“How was the trip?” I ask her.
“Long. As always.”
My nephew comes zipping in, his face glued to his phone. Absently I start wishing Lilah had a phone so I could text her right now…tell her I miss her already.
Because I’m so fucking far gone for her that I can’t think straight without her.
For a solid year, I went over the pros and cons of going after her. The cons mostly being her family—in the event things didn’t work out. They’d definitely make my life hell.
But the biggest con was losing her completely, when she’d somehow become the best part of my day. Now I wish I had just gone for it sooner, because the pros far outweigh the cons, and I coul
d never go back to just being her friend.
I check to see if she’s online as my mother and stepfather start walking their things in and telling Ryder—my nephew—to get his things too. She’s not online anywhere, unfortunately.
My brother reemerges just as the doorbell rings, and he opens the door on the road’s side.
“Hello?” he says, sounding confused.
“Hey, I’m here to see Benson,” a familiar voice says.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I round the corner to see Lindy beaming at me with a covered dish in her hand, while Deacon—my brother—stares at me with an arched eyebrow.
Lindy looks like a stripper on her way to work. She normally doesn’t dress like this. What’s going on? She hasn’t bothered me since the night of the beardless celebration.
After she thought Lilah was staking her claim, she backed off. As all the women did. Because…it’s Lilah. She’s a Vincent. You don’t mess with a Vincent and expect to walk away unscathed.
“Hey,” she says, smiling happily at me. “I heard about you and Lilah, and thought I’d bring you something to cheer you up.”
My eyebrows have to hit my hairline.
“Heard about me and Lilah? What about us?”
“Who’s Lilah?” my mother asks from somewhere behind me.
Lindy’s eyes widen when my mother approaches, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. Now Lindy looks uncomfortable, since she didn’t expect to be wearing a see-through top over a red bra, and daisy dukes in front of my mom.
Obviously.
She’s usually fairly conservative…in groups.
“I…uh…I’ll just give you a call later. What’s your number?” she asks, as I start closing the door, not accepting the covered dish.
“Nothing happened between me and Lilah,” I tell her as I shut the door on her protests.
When I turn around, everyone is looking at me.
“That’s the first time anyone has ever come to your house when we’ve been here,” Deacon decides to point out.
I pull out my phone, seeing Lilah still isn’t online anywhere.
“I need to make a call,” I grumble, moving away from them and not answering any questions.