Page 62 of Tempest

“Lock that shit down already, man. Is your game that dead?”

“Yes,” I admit. “I haven’t used it in two fucking decades, asshole.”

“Want some tips?”

“From you?” I laugh. “Hell, no. I’ve seen you slapped by more women than I’ve seen you checked into the plexiglass, my friend.”

“Rude,” he mumbles.

“Hey, take it as a compliment,” Blom tells him. “I always do.”

“Of course, you fucking do,” I say and he gives me a grin. He doesn’t have his bridge in, so his missing canine is the focus. “If Ode does come tonight, she might have Britton Macy with her.”

“Fuck yes,” a few of the guys say simultaneously.

“Don’t be assholes,” Cillian warned. “Isla and Willa like both Odette and Britton. Don’t run them off.”

“Run them off?” Letty asks, appalled. “We want them to be part of the family.”

“You haven’t even met Britton yet.”

“If Odette likes her, so will I,” he tells me.

“You’re a chucklefuck.”

“You know it and you love it about me.”

I can’t argue. We give each other a lot of shit, but Letty is one of the best of us. He’d do anything for any one of us, no questions asked. I wink at him, and he throws a towel at me. Then I text the woman this whole conversation is centered on.

Me:

Letty misses you.

Odette:

He misses looking at my ass.

I smile at how well she knows him after only spending one day with him.

Me:

That’s all of us, pumpkin.

Odette:

I’ll be there. Bringing Britton so they can obsess over her instead.

Me:

I’ll pick you up at six.

I text before tossing my phone in my locker and heading for the showers, trying not to get too big of a head over her saying yes. It’s a slow walk with Odette. A marathon, not a sprint. Good thing I have great stamina.

“So, you’re Vaughn?” Britton Macy says when she opens the door of Odette’s house to greet me. She’s shorter than I expected. Otherwise, she looks exactly like what I expected, thin, with long wavy blonde hair. The type of woman you’d think of when you think of California beaches and hanging poolside under the sun.

“I am. Nice to meet you, Ms. Macy.”

“Ah hell, call me Britton so I don’t feel like I’m at work and you’re the new make-up artist intern trying to impress me,” she says.

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