by Marie James
“You act like an idiot every night,” he clarifies.
I simmer, irritated that I’ve been typecast into that guy—the one who is always acting a fool for the benefit of others. Don’t get me wrong. I like making people smile, and sometimes making sure they have a good time is my sole focus, but Rivet doesn’t seem impressed, and that has weighed on me more than I’d like to admit these last few months.
I managed to keep my cool yesterday in the clubhouse kitchen, but my blood sparked as if tainted with diesel fuel when I caught her looking my direction. Granted, she was probably imaging a hundred and one ways she could disembowel me with a Q-Tip, but still, her eyes ran the length of me and I nearly lost my shit. Keeping the conversation going with Jinx about something so random I can’t even remember the topic of conversation was nearly impossible. I managed. Barely. And then she was gone.
I avoided the clubhouse yesterday evening, opting to keep my distance even after everyone got back in from Rhode Island late yesterday afternoon and congregated there last night.
“So what you’re saying is that you don’t know?”
Griffin finally meets my eyes. “I got nothing for you, bro.”
“So, she isn’t seeing anyone?”
I can’t seem to let it go. I want Rivet. I have since the first time I saw her, but I’m not one to push up on someone when they’re in a relationship. That’s messy, and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s messy situations.
“Were you not listening when I told you I don’t know anything?”
“Ivy talks to Gigi who lives in the damn clubhouse with Hound and Amelia. So, if there’s something going on, the girls know about it. If Ivy knows about it, that means you know about it. She tells you everything.”
His top lip quirks up in a smile, and it’s clear that his mind is a million miles away, probably picturing Ivy in some sexual fantasy I don’t even want to think about.
“Griffin?” I snap my fingers in front of his face, but I’ve already lost him.
I sit quietly, waiting for him to work through his thoughts because I know I won’t have an ounce of his attention while his mind is on Ivy. She claims nearly every second of his thoughts, and even though we’re closer now that he’s no longer in the Corps, I still can’t help but be a little jealous that she’s usually the only thing he can focus on.
“Morning,” Mom says as she walks into the kitchen and arrows for the fresh pot of coffee I made ten minutes ago. “Got any plans tonight?”
It’s Friday, and that would normally mean something special if it wasn’t summertime, but we don’t keep a schedule. Any night has the potential to include a party when we aren’t in school. The thought sobers me. I’m the only one left to graduate, other than Landon, but he’s still only a freshman in high school.
Ivy and Delilah are finished with school and returning home to find jobs and be productive members of society, so maybe my summer won’t be filled with fun, games, and hanging out with my friends and family.
Samson graduated too, opting to get his diploma in the mail since he took online classes to complete his program this last year. His dads weren’t impressed by the lack of ceremony, but Camryn had to work at the hospital and those two are just as inseparable as all the others who have paired off in recent years.
“Jake’s probably,” Griffin tells Mom as she takes a seat beside us.
I look at him, confusion drawing my brows tightly together. I clench my jaw in frustration, irritated that he can snap out of his thoughts for her but not me.
We haven’t even discussed plans for the evening, but I’ll be wherever everyone else decides to go. Although I’m now the odd man out—the only one not mated for eternity to my soulmate—I still enjoy hanging out with them. Plus, Jake’s is the perfect place to find my own entertainment for the night, and a way to somehow manage to get Rivet out of my head. Not that I was able to do that with the pretty girls in San Diego in the last couple months, and let’s not even talk about the one time I tried to hook up with that gorgeous, stacked blonde and couldn’t follow through. Maybe being back on my home turf is exactly what I need to exorcise the demon that’s been haunting me and ruining my mojo.
“Guys,” Dad says as he enters the kitchen. He presses a kiss to Mom’s temple before filling his own cup of coffee. “Glad to be home?”
“Things are great,” Griffin answers. “But now the real work begins. I know it’s going to be nearly impossible to find a place to live in town.”
Mom frowns at his news.
“A place to live?” She doesn’t bother hiding the disappointment in her voice.
I imagine both our parents, along with Diego and Emmalyn, assumed Griffin and Ivy would stay on the property. I know I don’t have any intention of fleeing the nest anytime soon. It’s too comfortable here to want to leave.
“We can’t stay here, Mom.”
“Of course you can.” Dad takes the seat across from Mom so he can see Griffin better, and I already know what’s going to happen. I sigh, irritated that Dad is going to try to persuade Griffin to stay. If I didn’t know that Ivy was still upstairs in my brother’s bed, I’d bet money, she’d be having the same conversation with her own parents.
“We need our own space,” Griffin says as he looks at our father. “I’m a grown man. I’m not going to stay under my parent’s roof.”
“I thought you wanted to build here?” Mom sounds as if she’s on the verge of tears, as if her oldest son just told her he’s packing his things and moving to a different continent.
“We want to.” Griffin keeps his eyes on Dad.
“That’s what we want too. We’ve had this conversation more than once, Son. You should stay here while we iron out the details on the build. Hound’s house is nearly done. They’re putting on the finishing touches this week.”
Cerberus owns most of the land for as far as the eye can see. Hound and Gigi will be the first ones to own property across the street from the clubhouse whereas my parents and the other original members have built behind the clubhouse. Although now part of the family, Hound still insisted to build on the land that has been designated for the team members. I have no doubt it has more to do with his and Gigi’s kinkiness and needing a little distance from her parents than anything else.
“It takes months to build a house.” I can already tell that Griffin has made up his mind, but I know my mom and dad won’t give up so easily. They both imagine awful things happening to us while we’re not on Cerberus property. It’s with good reason, considering how crazy the world has gotten, but they protect us to the point of smothering us, hence the reason Gigi took off at eighteen and spent years trying to avoid coming back here.
“And spending money on an apartment or renting a house is wasteful when you can just stay here.”
“We need our own space. We need privacy.”
I want to cheer him on and let him know I fully support his decision. It’s difficult, not to mention incredibly creepy, to have to listen to your brother getting busy with his girl through our shared wall upstairs.
“We don’t go in your room,” Mom mumbles. “We don’t even bother you when the door is closed.”
“Maybe you’d be more comfortable at the clubhouse? There are still a couple of empty rooms over there. You and Ivy are welcome to one,” Dad offers.
Griffin rejects the idea immediately. “I’m not going to have her walking around the clubhouse in her pajamas around those guys,” he growls. “I’ll end up killing one of them.”
“None of them would disrespect Ivy,” Dad interjects. What he doesn’t say is that Kincaid would either kill them himself or they’d end up out on their asses.
“Or,” Mom adds, “she could always get dressed before leaving the room.”
My lip twitches at the sight of Griffin’s knuckles turning white from gripping his coffee cup so hard. I don’t like to see my brother getting agitated with my parents, but at the same time, I’m grateful that their irritation isn’t directed at me this time.
“If you join Cerberus, one of those rooms is technically yours, anyway.”
“I haven’t made that decision yet,” Griffin grumbles. “There’s still too much up in the air right now.”
He doesn’t say it, but I know he’s referring to the bullshit that went down while he was in the Corps. He hasn’t gone to court yet to testify against the lieutenant that made him do awful things while in combat.
“I really wish you’d stay,” Mom whispers, but Griffin doesn’t give in to the sadness in her voice.
My brother’s jaw clenches at the low blow my mother is using right now. Neither one of us ever wants to hurt or disappoint either one of our parents. They gave us amazing childhoods, and we were raised with a level of respect for them most kids don’t possess these days.
“He’s made up his mind, Misty,” Dad says with acceptance. “If you’re hell-bent on leaving, those new apartments off the highway are leasing soon. They have a huge banner out front. It isn’t ideal as far as security goes, and I imagine the gates they’re installing would be easy to breach, but that’s going to be your best option.”
I hide my chuckle with another sip of coffee. Mom is good with sad, but Dad is the expert at passive-aggressiveness. He knows Ivy’s safety is Griffin’s number one priority, ranked higher than her happiness, and his mentioning the security at the apartments is a well-aimed shot.
Griffin doesn’t cave. “I’ll take a look at them later today.”
“Morning,” Ivy says as she joins the rest of us in the kitchen.
She tugs down her tank top, cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment, and I don’t know if it’s her state of dress or if she just hasn’t gotten used to people knowing what she’s been up to upstairs.
Yeah, they definitely need their own space.
Chapter 9
Rivet
“That is not what I meant,” Rocker huffs.
“You just said that Pretty Little Liars was your favorite show,” Grinch says with a wide grin.
“I did not.” Rocker sits back in his high-backed bar stool, arms crossed over his chest and he looks as much the petulant brat I imagine those girls on that show would look like when they’re called out.
“You did.” I smile around the beveled edge of my beer bottle before titling it up for a long drink.
We’ve been to Jake’s more times than I can count, but the age of the patrons is decidedly younger tonight. I didn’t realize how many college kids came home for the summer until we arrived tonight to the packed parking lot and even further overflowing bar.
I won the coin toss we always have when we arrive. None of us want to put our backs to the door or the crowds of people milling around, but we wouldn’t be able to chat if we all lined our broody asses up along the far wall. I’m just grateful I’m even included in the coin toss. The first couple of times we came, I was relegated to the far side of the table, but as they’ve grown to trust me and I’ve proven myself in the field, they seem a little more willing to involve me, knowing I’ll have their backs if trouble begins to stir.
In my current position, I’m aware of Cannon and his friends entering the bar the second he crosses the threshold. The familiar playful grin is in place, making his eyes sparkle in delight as he greets several guys at a table near the door.
When the first female walks up to him, he points down at his t-shirt. She playfully slaps at his chest, but in the next breath, she’s crushed against his chest in a friendly hug. This goes on for several long minutes, and I can’t manage to pull my eyes away as he’s greeted—and hugged—by a group of women that seem to be lining up at their chance to touch him.
As the last girl reluctantly pulls free from his embrace, I notice his t-shirt. FREE HUGS is emblazoned on the front. Even with the words there in bright white print on the black fabric, I get the impression that those girls would still be lining up to touch him.
He doesn’t linger around them though, as he quickly joins his friends at a table that’s too far out of my periphery to watch without calling attention to my gawking.
He wasn’t with his friends yesterday when they invaded the clubhouse. Chatter around—meaning the clubhouse gossip station that is Grinch—told me that everyone was back for good, having graduated from college. The group wasn’t loud, and none of the guys seemed to care that they were in the common areas of the clubhouse, but it’s a huge change from how the last couple of months have been.
“I bet Rivet has seen every episode,” Rocker says.
I don’t know how much of the conversation I’ve missed, but I force my focus back to the guys.
“Which show?” I ask.
“PLL.”
“What?”
“Pretty Little Liars,” Rocker explains. “You’ve seen every episode, right?”
“Not a fucking one.”
Jinx laughs, slapping his friend on the back, but it’s Grinch’s knowing eyes that catch my attention.
“I don’t know why I even talk to you guys,” Rocker mutters, drinking the last of his beer and slamming the bottle on the table hard enough for the other empties to rattle.
“Your round,” Jinx says as he looks at me.
“Be right back.” I jump up, as if I’m excited to be buying these assholes beer, but the honest truth is, I need to get away from all of it. Away from Grinch’s knowing look. Away from the far side of the bar where I know Cannon disappeared to.
Just, all of it.
There are two bartenders running themselves ragged behind the bar, so I push my way through the crowd and post up, knowing it’ll be a little while before I’m served. People are opting to stand, leaving empty stools on either side of me, but I won’t sit and give anyone here an advantage over me. There isn’t the thrill of danger in the air, but my sense of self-preservation won’t let me fully relax either.
I sense him near before he slides onto the bar stool at my right. I ignore him, refusing to glance in his direction even when I catch an eyeful of his muscled forearm as he leans on the bar.
“How have you been?” His words are almost immediately swallowed by the din around us, and I hate the other noises because it keeps me from telling if his voice is just as husky and gruff as it was in the kitchen the other day.
“Things are fine,” I say, still keeping my eyes on the bottles behind the bar. The truth is, I can see bits and pieces of him in the mirrors used to enhance the liquor selection, and I find him looking at the side of my head rather than straight ahead like I’m doing.
He keeps his distance. Even though we have to yell to hear each other, he doesn’t lean in close or place his hand on my back the way that some people would when they’re trying to be heard. I find that I’m a little disappointed that he learned his lesson on touching me so well the first time. I wouldn’t lay him out in the middle of Jake’s for a simple touch but breaking a few fingers would be easy enough.
Yet, even as I picture cracking his bones, I imagine leaning in and pressing my lips to his at the same time. I imagine sliding my tongue into his open mouth as he yelps in pain.
“That’s good,” he says, and the nonchalance of his voice makes me turn to look at him.
My eyes immediately drop to his stupid shirt before I look up again to find him smiling wide. He opens his arms in suggestion, offering me the same opportunity he did more than a half dozen other girls just a few moments ago.
I scoff. “Fat fucking chance.”
“I think I’m going to have to mark tonight down on my calendar. This is the first time you’ve ever spoken to me. I mean you said my name once the other day in the kitchen, but that’s it.”
My mind flashes back to each of our interactions, and I find that he’s right.
“I guess I’m in a generous mood.”
His eyes flash as his mouth opens, but he thinks better of whatever he was going to say, and his mouth snaps shut. Smart man.
The bartender finally makes it to our side of the bar. I place my order for half a dozen bo
ttles of beer and Cannon orders a coke.
My lip twitches. “Not drinking tonight?”
“Not old enough to drink,” he answers. “At least not outside of the clubhouse.”
I look back at the pretty bartender that can’t take her eyes off of him even as she begins pulling longnecks from the cooler and popping the cap off of them.
“I bet she’d give you anything you want with just a grin and one of those stupid pickup lines.”
Cannon doesn’t take his eyes from mine. “Probably, but Dad has a rule about drinking in public. We don’t break it.”
That shocks me. “You don’t seem like the type that would obey rules.”
“Really?” His teeth dig into his bottom lip as he turns a little more, angling his body and giving me all of his attention. “What type of guy do I seem to be?”
He’s still smiling, but I can tell he’s asking the question already anticipating an answer he won’t like.
“Fuck the world.” I shrug. “Like a guy who couldn’t give a fuck what others think.”
This isn’t entirely true. I’m almost certain if it weren’t for his friends, he never would’ve approached me the way he did on my first night at the clubhouse. He was performing for them.
“Filthy mouth,” he says with a smile, turning his attention from me only briefly when the pretty bartender slides his soda across the scarred surface of the bar. “I can’t wait to hear what kinds of filthy stuff you come up with when you’re under me for the first time.”
My eyes narrow, certain I didn’t hear him right, but that doesn’t stop my body from singing. He all but said we were going to fuck, but this time there wasn’t an ounce of playfulness in his tone. He didn’t say it with a smile the way he spewed those absurd lines all those months ago.
He said it with assuredness, simply like it was a prediction rather than with hope. He lifts his glass to his lips and walks away.
“Here you go.” The bartender doesn’t smile at me the way she did Cannon. I’m pretty good at judging people and assessing thoughts, and it’s clear that this girl doesn’t like me. She sees me as a threat to whatever claim she wants to have over the guy who just left me with my mouth hanging open and my body burning with agitation and need.