Page 21 of Sweetest Hate

"Did I ask y—"

"Take out the boat, and I heard them talking about leaving in an hour," Shawn interrupted, answering us both and glanced between the two of us with a furrowed brow. "Are you both going?" He sounded concerned, and I held back a snort.

"Probably," I said, and Arsen replied, his rough voice that I swore stroked my dick, "I'm steering."

Great. My life in the hands of the devil.I'm steering, I mouthed, not at all surprised he'd want to be in control. So I had a fifty-fifty chance of committing murder on a boat today. Fantastic.

Stewing, I ignored them both and went back to eating my cereal, but I could still hear them talking.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Quinn said as he clumsily crashed onto the barstool next to mine, sending it balancing precariously on two legs before it settled. "You ready for some sun in the fun?"

"I think you mean fun in the sun." My eyes flicked to Arsen, who wasn't masking his annoyance with Quinn while eyeing him as if he could make him vanish with a single thought. "Yep. I just need to change. I've lost my appetite anyway."

"Okay, but hurry up. I've been dying to drive that thing." Quinn dropped his arm, grabbed my bowl, and slid it in front of him.

When he dipped the spoon in and brought it to his lips, I wrinkled my nose. "You are seriously disgusting."

Quinn shrugged as he chewed. "I'm hungry."

"And there's more in the box," I pointed out.

"I'm lazy. And I thought you were going to get dressed."

Arsen's voice cut through our conversation like a knife through the air. "You aren't driving the boat, Quinn. I am."

Quinn's brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Arsen leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You were hammered just a few hours ago. You aren't driving anyone anywhere. Do you even know how to drive a boat?"

Quinn rolled his eyes. "And here I was hoping you'd keep your mouth shut for once."

"Not when you're trying to make stupid decisions," Arsen said, and for once, I agreed, not that I'd tell him that.

Quinn shoveled another bite in his mouth. "Of course not. Mr. Perfect, always so fucking responsible."

"More responsible than—"

I slid off the barstool, not in the mood to get in the middle of a stepbrother pissing contest. "I'm going to change. Try not to kill each other." Or rather, I wouldn't mind if Quinn took Arsen down, but glancing at the two of them, I was pretty sure Quinn wouldn't come out on top if it came down to a physical fight.

With one last look at the pair of hotheads, I headed back upstairs and into Quinn's room, quickly changing into my boardshorts and a white tank. After grabbing a pair of sunglasses, slipping my ball cap on backward, and pushing my feet into a pair of slides, I went back downstairs. A few people still milled around the kitchen, but I figured most had made their way outside already.

When I pushed through the back door, the bright sun was blinding. Wincing, I slipped on my sunglasses and made my way to the gathered crowd loitering near the dock.

"Are we going or what?" I asked Quinn, who stood with his arms folded over his chest, staring at the boat.

He quickly glanced at me before refocusing on whatever held his attention. "Just as soon as Captain Asshat finishes his inspection."

My gaze slid to the massive, brown-and-beige, ten-foot-wide Premier Pontoon boat moored at the dock. I had never seen anything like it. It had both an upper and lower deck, and a retractable cover. A small galley kitchenette, with a small refrigerator, was next to the driver's seat and all the electronic controls. Recessed panels were inlaid into the floor to hold the coolers securely. The best thing of all was the waterslide attached to the top deck. The thing was massive and could seat twenty-five people easily. You had your choice of places to sit – the leather wrap-around couch that formed a U as the front of the boat, a small seating area at the back, or seating on the upper deck. Looking at the mammoth vessel, I found Arsen walking around the deck, I supposed checking things out. "Does he know what he's doing?"

Quinn scoffed. "Of course, K. It's their boat."

Whether he'd admit it or not, I was beginning to suspect that Arsen's arrival had made Quinn feel out of place in his stepbrother's home. "You're their family now too."

"Yeah." He offered a tight grin. "But apparently, I was doing it wrong. That thing isn't just a boat, it's a luxury cruiser or something. Did you see the Jet Skis on the back deck, down in the water?"

"Were you doing it wrong?" I asked, unsure if Quinn actually knew anything about boats and boating safety measures.

Quinn shrugged. "Fuck if I know."

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