Page 25 of Lucky's Trouble

“That’s very kind. Thank you.”

Carrie’s nose scrunches. “Ew, Dad. You’re so cringe.”

“I am not cringe,” he replies, the word sounding exactly like what he’s arguing. “What does that even mean? It doesn’t make sense.”

Everyone laughs but Dad.

“Is your club hiring? Because my manager at the coffee shop is on my last nerve, and I probably make pennies compared to you,” Carrie says.

“Not a chance,” I growl out, not thinking that Tinleigh might take that wrong. It’s just. . . my sister.

“I am a sexual being, Wilder.”

“The hell you are.” Shivers run up my spine at the thought of my sister having sex.

She points at me. “Mom, tell him.”

“Carrie is right. We all are.”

I set my fork down. “Can we not talk about this? Especially when I’m trying to eat.”

“I have to side with your brother on this one,” Tinleigh chimes in. “But not for the same reasons. You’re a beautiful girl, and the club would be lucky to have you.”

“Then why?” Carrie asks.

My sisters may be a year or two older than Tinleigh, but you’d never know it after having a single conversation with them. Carrie and Callie are at the end of their college years and only keep a job to pay for spending money since my parents pay for their schooling and incidentals, while the only higher education Tinleigh has is from the school of hard knocks. The difference is evident in everything from their appearance to their naivety.

“Just trust me on this. I guarantee the owner of my club is worse than your manager.”

Each time she mentions Neal, there’s a tone in her voice I don’t like. Contacting the Royal Bastards to get more info just moved higher on my priority list. There’s no way I’m getting the truth about what Tinleigh’s up against from her. She’d just as soon handle her own shit than bring anyone else into it.

“Okay, fine, but if that douche asks me to pick up something he dropped so he can look at my ass one more time, I’ll sic Wilder on him.”

“What the hell, Carrie? You didn’t tell me that’s been going on.” I grip my fork so hard I feel the metal bend.

“And that’s why. Look at you.” She gestures to my rigid frame.

“What’s his name?” I demand.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Carrie,” I say, warning lacing my tone.

“If I need you, you’ll be the first to know.”

Tinleigh clears her throat and turns to Mom. “Tell me about what Luck—I mean, Wilder—was like as a kid.”

“How much time do you have?” Mom laughs. “From his very first breath, he’s embodied his namesake. He hit every milestone early, so by nine months, he was walking, and by his first birthday, he was climbing on furniture. Scared the life out of me.”

“He told me about his sugar allergy.” She throws air quotes over the last two words.

“Not the only lie we told him to save our sanity,” Dad says. “We almost didn’t have Carrie and Callie because we could hardly handle him. That’s why there’s such a big age gap between them.”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes, you were,” my family says in unison.

“And you still are. Colin, too.” Mom takes a bigger gulp of her wine cooler.

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