Page 205 of By His Vow

“The fuck have you two been talking about behind my back?” I bark. The two of them were always closer growing up. Kian loved playing football, although he was shit at it, while I was always too busy with my head stuck in a book, trying to figure out how to take over the world, one vacation resort at a time. But since Kieran ran off into the NFL sunset as it were, leaving Kian behind to play with numbers, we’ve grown closer. Kieran might be based in Chicago still, but we don’t get to see him much. He’s too busy with football, endorsements, and his foundation. I get it—I’m just as fucking busy. Doesn’t stop me from missing the times the three of us used to spend together.

“Just taking bets on how long it’d take for you to end up pussy-whipped by your new wife.”

“Fucking morons,” I mutter, grabbing two beers from the refrigerator and throwing one in his direction. He catches it with ease before twisting the top and lifting it to his lips. “So, what’s new?” I ask, mimicking his position on the couch opposite.

“Nah, not much. Just got back in from New York this morning. Had a photoshoot for some aftershave.”

“Is that why you smell like you’ve stumbled out of a brothel?” I tease.

“How the fuck would you know what a brothel smells like, Bro?”

“Kian told me about it,” I shoot back. “He goes most weekends,” I deadpan, making Kieran bark out a laugh.

“Pfft, there’s no fucking chance that motherfucker has paid for pussy. He’s too fucking tight.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth.”

I stopped in on Mom. She told me to send her love and apologies for not attending,” Kieran says cautiously.

Anger knots my stomach.

“That’s great,” I lie.

“You didn’t even invite her, did you?” Kieran studies me, able to read the answer in my eyes.

“She doesn’t want to be a part of this,” I mutter.

Kieran’s mouth opens and closes to argue, but he wisely decides against it and changes the subject.

“So, how are things with the little lady then?”

Draining my beer, I place the bottle on the coffee table between us and stare him dead in the eyes.

“Women are a fucking head fuck.”

His eyes twinkle with amusement.

“Sweet little Tatum giving you the runaround?”

“Sweet? There’s nothing fucking sweet about her.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Do tell.” He rubs his hands together in interest.

“I don’t know whether I’m coming or fucking going. One minute, things are…” I trail off, thinking of our weekend at the cabin. “Awesome. She’s smart, funny—really fucking funny—and?—”

“Hot?” Kieran asks. “You forgot hot.”

I quirk a brow. “Bro, have you got the hots for my fiancée?”

“Dude, do not tell me that you don’t remember her hanging out in that red bikini when we were kids.”

“You were a kid,” I point out. “You shouldn’t have noticed.”

His smirk grows. “You did though, didn’t you?” He chuckles. “Miles was such a fucking idiot for thinking she was safe with you. He thought you hated her, but the truth of it was that you were jerking off over her every night.’

“The fuck?” My temperature spikes. I want to say that it’s out of irritation. The fucking audacity of this fucker. But in all honestly, it’s because he’s fucking right.

“I wonder what happened to that itty bitty red bikini. I bet she’d fill it out good now.”

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