Page 7 of Wild Reckoning

Ethan’s eyes darted everywhere, bouncing so fast he looked like a robot assimilating all the information in the waiting area. There wasn’t much to look at, unless the kid liked pamphlets on proper tire pressure or rebates.

Still, Ethan seemed fascinated, glancing toward the door to the bay area as various tools burst with noise.

Killian, on the other hand, could do without the heavy smell of used engine oil and whatever that burnt rubber smell was. The noxious odors were messing with his senses.

“We’ll be in the waiting area talking sports and motorcycles while you handle the paperwork.” Killian nodded at the three chairs. They’d been made for someone half his size and looked like they would be uncomfortable for his large frame.

His thighs were going to hurt like a bitch when he eventually stood.

Stewart’s gorgeous green gaze lowered to Ethan then toward the counter.

“He’ll be fine, hon.” Killian shooed him away.

Relenting, Stewart finally walked to the counter. Killian sat—Jesus, the most uncomfortable chairs imaginable—placing the car seat on the floor, between his feet, then whispered to the cub, “Can you say Uncle Killian?”

The kiddo grinned. “Uncuh Kill.”

Killian burst out laughing, saw Stewart furrowing his brows, then quieted his laugh to a chuckle. “Either that’s an order or you just made me sound like one badass motherfu—dge.”

“Badass!”

“Shh!” Killian glanced over his shoulder and saw Stewart talking with an employee then glanced back at Ethan. “Look, bud. I’m trying to impress your uncle, not have him pissed at me. You are never, ever, ever gonna say that word again. Got it?”

“Piss a you?”

Killian really needed to clean up his language. “Mad at me.”

“I hung… I hung… I hungwe,” Ethan said. “More gwapes.”

Killian was starving, but he needed more than grapes. But what he really needed was standing by the counter. Just looking at Stewart—the way his hip hitched to one side, chewing his lips anxiously—Killian had to turn back around just to take a normal breath. One that wasn’t filled with need.

“Let, um.” He cleared his throat and exhaled slowly. “Let your uncle handle this and then I’ll take my fellas to lunch. Deal?”

“Badass,” Ethan pouted.

Stewart was going to straight-up murder Uncle Kill. Sitting forward, Killian placed his elbows on his knees. “Buddy, please stop saying that. Your uncle is going to be the bada-.”

Was he seriously about to make a boneheaded move by repeating the word he was just begging the toddler not to repeat?

“He’s going to kick my butt if he thinks I’m over here teaching you potty words.”

This morning Killian had been wrestling with Ryker in his bear form. The epitome of “badass.”

Three hours later, he was begging a toddler not to snitch on him. Killian had the strangest, coolest life.

He leaned forward, listening as Ethan began to speak. “Take your time, cub. There’s no rush.”

“A big… and big… and big…” Ethan stammered, wiping the back of his hand over his nose like he was scratching it. “Him hurt Uncuh Stewalulu.”

Ethan sneezed. Killian glanced around and spotted a small box of tissues. He wiped the boy’s nose, asking himself if he’d heard Ethan correctly.

The toddler had the sincerest look in his eyes when he’d said it. The same color emerald as his uncle’s.

With a frown, Killian leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Did someone hurt Uncle Stewart?” His bear snarled as Killian waited for the toddler to answer him.

“Bad man,” Ethan whispered and then shouted, “Gwapes!”

“I’ll get you more grapes, bud.” Killian sat back, thinking about what Ethan just revealed. While he knew kids made a lot of things up, his gut told him Ethan was telling the truth.

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