Page 27 of Pack Larsen

And then the bastard ends the call, cutting off Juno’s laughter like a rude, little shit.

Shaking my head with twitching lips, once again happy for my bestie for the love and family she’s found and for bringing me into the fold enough that there’s a comfort between me and her guys, I finish packing my things up before pulling in a deep breath. I suppose, since the creeps followed me here, I can give them a minute, maybe two if I’m feeling generous.

Tucking everything away for Tanner to keep safe for me, I head out of the office and into the main club area where it now stands empty. The club has already been closed down for the night, save for Tanner standing behind the bar eyeing the twins as they sit intimidatingly on the barstools with a beer each, so I don’t bother trying to hide my identity as I walk over. Claiming a seat beside Haze, I grin at Tan and ask, “Good night?”

“So fucking good, Dusty Girl. We had a flood of people come in within thirty minutes of you playing. Apparently, word got out and they all swarmed here to listen to you play,” Tanner announces with a hint of pride, grinning at me with warmth and appreciation.

I shrug, playing it off like it’s not a big deal, and tell him, “Happy to help. Cleared my head enough that I don’t feel homicidal anymore, so I guess it was a win-win for us both.”

Tanner laughs before he drops a bottle of Coke in front of me, cold enough that condensation drips down the glass. “Here. Get that down you and then get lost. I’m going to finish up in the office and then I’m going to crawl into my bed and sleep for as long as my insomnia will allow.”

With that, he rounds the bar, kisses my cheek, and disappears. It takes me a moment to realize there’s a strange rumble in the room with me, and I peer over to the twins to check if they’re hearing it, too. Only, the moment I do, I realize the sound is actually coming from Rage. His chest vibrates with a low growl, one that sounds almost animalistic in nature, and I gawk at the guy in shock.

“Dude. Cool it,” Haze whispers, but not quietly enough that I don’t hear it.

Sure enough, the rumble in Rage’s chest cuts short, and his dark, stormy eyes snap to mine with a small wince that I wouldn’t have noticed had I not been staring at him so intently.

“The fuck was that?” I blurt, wiping my cheek free of the gloss Tanner has left behind.

“He kissed you,” Rage answers, as though that’s all there is to it.

Giving him a ‘duh’ look, I say, “Yeah, and? On the cheek as a farewell. What’s the deal? Am I not allowed kisses now, even platonic, goodbye ones? Jesus, what is with you? First, me being wealthy is a problem for you. And now, I can’t receive a kiss to the cheek from my friend?”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, and there appears to be a war going on in those ocean eyes of his before he says, “It’s inappropriate. He’s your boss.”

“Yeah, since I was sixteen. After five years in his employ, he’s like a fruity, gay uncle to me at this point,” I tell him, honestly clueless why the hell he would fucking growl at the guy.

As though my words were air keeping him puffed up and ready to start swinging, Rage visibly deflates with a relieved sigh, turning to his brother with a roll of his eyes. At the same time, the two of them say, “He’sgay?”

Eyebrows raised on my forehead, I blurt, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, never mind,” Rage concludes, and he takes a heavy slug of his beer while his shoulders drop further.

I’m about to push for answers when Haze turns in his seat to face me, a small smile on his ruggedly handsome face, and asks, “So, a secret DJ, huh? That’s your job?”

I shrug, narrowing my eyes on him while I wait for some kind of jab or barb, but when nothing more comes, I confirm, “Yeah. I’ve been here for five years already. Meemaw insisted I didn’t need a job, because she and my grandfathers would cover everything, but it didn’t sit right with me. So, the day after I moved in with them, I went looking for a job. Tanner had a slot available for a DJ. I slung some things together, wasn’t that great, but he hired me anyway. Said he saw potential in me and kept me on. It worked out more when I started attending North Five, since Meemaw lives further away than where the school is from here.”

“That’s cool,” the nicer twin of the two comments, appearing genuine and relaxed. It’s weird, because it’s the most attention I’ve gotten from him ever, and I don’t know how to take it. Am I being set up for something? Is there an ulterior motive? Is he just being nice because I gave him a place to stay? I don’t know, and I’m finding it hard to believe that they’re here just to make conversation after Rage gave me shit earlier for having a lot of money.

“Sure,” I say, eyeing the two of them closely before I demand, “Why are you guys here? Is this your way of having a blessed day? Stalk me at my place of employment?”

Rage snorts, though his face makes no outward appearance that he found my words funny, and Haze’s smile simply grows as he watches me like he’s trying to figure me out. I mean, it wouldn’t be hard if they actually bothered to try, but I digress.

“You wouldn’t let Rage apologize, so we did the next best thing,” Haze answers by not answering at all.

I raise my eyebrow and wait.

It doesn’t take long before his smile turns into a grin and he finally admits, “Look, we all started off on the wrong foot. We all have our hang ups, and Rage… he gets funny when it comes to people with money. Ask Juno’s twins. Before we befriended them, Rage kept giving them shit about their wealth, too, before Lowie knocked him down a few pegs.”

“So, that’s what I have to do to go through my day without being made to feel guilty over my monetary status? Knock your brother down a few pegs?” I ask, narrowing my eyes on him. “Is there a reason why I should have to put that level of effort, that much energy into ensuring someone isn’t a dick to me?”

Haze’s smile drops when he realizes what he said and how it sounds, like it’s my job to make sure I’m not guilt-tripped by the idiot, and he shakes his head quickly while his brother looks anywhere but at me.

“That’s not what I meant,” Haze quickly assures, holding his hands out like they’re the equivalent of a white flag of surrender. “I mean, it’s not a ‘you’ thing, it’s a ‘Rage’ thing. He shouldn’t have spoken to you the way he did, and he’s sorry. We wanted to come here and make sure you knew that he genuinely feels bad.”

Rage is nodding sagely, staring at his beer bottle like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, face stoic and unbothered. It’s only the tightening of his hands around the bottle that shows how bothered he actually is.

I swallow down some of my Coke, licking my lower lip while I eye the two closely. It was sneaky, apologizing on behalf of his brother, because I can’t very well get pissy over Rage not listening if his brother is apologizing for him.

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