Page 86 of Walking Red Flag

“How is it ruining your life?” I laughed, still embarrassed as hell. “And when did you get here?”

“Just got here.” Shasha looked at me. “I imagine that Dima won’t be too happy that he can’t just show up to crash at your place anymore without alerting him.” He looked at Cutter with narrowed eyes. “But I guess it all works out, since now he won’t have to worry about you anymore.”

I softened.

“Wow, wonder what that feels like?” Chevy asked.

“You are not marrying me off to make you not worry anymore, Chevy Clark,” Keely called from the kitchen.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her brother’s head whip around and his eyes widen.

“That’s an excellent idea!”

I ain’t too good at fractions, but I still know you’re a whole ass bitch.

—Text from Cutter to Chevy

CUTTER

I was knee deep in sawdust, had my arms high above my head holding a shelving unit in place, and my phone was ringing.

“Go!” I called out to Milena.

She came in from the front, her eyebrows raised. “You rang.”

I grinned at her, then shifted my hips to indicate what I wanted. “My phone’s ringing.”

She eyed my hips. “Could you do that again?”

I shot her a look, which she returned with a smirk.

“It’s my granddad’s number, or I wouldn’t answer it,” I informed her.

“How do you know it’s your granddad’s number?” she asked.

“Because Keely thought it would be hilarious to assign everyone their own vibration on everyone’s phone,” he answered. “Granddad’s is the Jaws theme. I can feel the vibrations going, dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-dun.”

She gifted me with a smile that would’ve knocked me off my feet had I not had a couple hundred pounds over my head.

“Got it,” she said as she came over.

She stuck her hand in the pocket without the phone, and I didn’t bother telling her it wasn’t in that pocket when her fingers brushed against the line of my cock.

“Whoops.” She giggled and went for the other pocket.

Pulling it out, she answered it while on speakerphone.

“Hey, Granddad,” she cooed.

Granddad and Milena hadn’t officially met yet, but only because Granddad’s schedule was very busy. As in, Mondays he played Bingo at the Bingo Hall with his crew. Tuesdays he went out of town to a shopping mall in Sunnyvale where he ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Wednesdays he played pickleball. Thursdays he played pickleball. Fridays he ‘recovered’ and played Bunko. When he wasn’t doing that, he was at my shop putzing around, building things out of my wood without asking. Saturdays and Sundays he did his various activities at the old folks’ home that we were able to sneak him into by the skin of our teeth.

And, seeing as Granddad wasn’t willing to miss much of any of his activities, not even to meet his grandson’s wife, he’d yet to meet her.

Though, we had plans to join him at pickleball tomorrow, according to Keely and Milena—who’d become fast friends a couple of days ago after meeting.

I’d decided that it was their common history.

They both had bonded over their overprotective brothers, how their lives had changed, and how much they wished that their family could see them as people, and not as victims.

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