Page 8 of The Stud

See.

Evil.

Bear quickly leans over, plants a hard paw in the middle of my tied up, white t-shirt covered back, and prepares to jump to provide the assist, prompting me to croak out in a mangled voice, “I’m okay.”

“Pity,” my twin not so mutedly whispers.

“We should’ve just had corgis,” mumbles Mom on another sip of her beverage. “Or cats.”

“They honestly fight like the latter,” Dad agrees at a similar volume.

“What. The. Fuck.Do you mean you’re starting a job with my team tomorrow?!”

“It’s notyourteam,” Audrey reminds at the same time she crosses one dark tan mini skirt covered leg over the other. “You don’t own it.”

“Change that,” I not so playfully plead to my parents. “Please.”

“We’re notbuyingyou a hockey team so that you don’t have to associate with your sister,” Dad mirthfully declares.

“You didn’t even consider it!”

“Associating with you doesn’t do anything for my soc’ stock either,” the first born exasperatingly claims. “However, this isn’t aboutmysoc’ stock, but the family’s.”

“Our company doesn’t need a boost,” I quickly argue around Bear snuffing my face, checking for additional injuries post my momentary choking. “Loca Mocha Casabloca is one of the most popular and most trending coffee chains in the world.”

“And you don’t stay that way by resting on your morals,” she idiotically chomps.

“Laurels,” Mom gently corrects while tilting her light, brown sugar, makeup free face to one side.

“Did you fire her?” is accompanied by an open palm flying across her black, half-shirt clad chest. “Do I need to worry about her trolling us?!”

Mom’s mouth twitches to rebut yet busies itself with another sip instead.

Pretty.

Poised.

But ditzy.

Exhaustingly. Ditzy.

I swear I lose braincells at every one of these family brunches.

And what makes it worse?

The fucking mediaeats upairheads like this.

Especially when they’re attached to famous athletes such as the one thatthinkshe wants to date me when all he really wants to do is bang me.

That pylon probably doesn’t even understand that those two things are different.

“As you know LMC has always had close ties with The Dragons due to the start the arena gave our family’s company when it was first finding its footing.”

“They let us sell our coffee out of a small corner booth the first year and then the concession stands the next and then had players do appearances at the first actual shop in exchange for free coffee ultimately giving the business a boost we may have never acquired elsewhere.” Grabbing a piece of bacon occurs on an eyeroll. “Yeah. Yeah. I know the bedtime stories.”

“I was always asleep by then,” Audrey offhandedly interjects.

“The Dragons – like the city of Dalvegan itself – have played a vital roleinour success, which is why LMCbecamethe biggest sponsorofThe Dragons,” Dad casually continues to explain. “And by beingtheirbiggest sponsor we have a unique opportunity to field test new flavors, new designs, new merchandise, and new marketing techniques in a controlled yet diversified setting.”

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