Page 17 of Bound by Family
The woman looks down at Ryker, and then bursts out laughing. It’s like her voice, a purr-ish laugh that has my dick turning to granite.
I follow her gaze and a laugh escapes me, too. On Ryker’s feet are Snoopy Christmas socks.
“What the fuck, brother?” I ask, not bothering to hide my amusement.
“My sister got them for me. Shut the hell up.”
“And you decided to wear them to Florida? Nice, Ryker,” Green chides.
“Normally no one sees the damn things,” he grumbles.
The woman sucks in a breath, smiles, and swishes the mop back and forth.
“Next time, I’d leave those at home,” Green says as Ryker sits next to him on the hard, plastic chairs along the wall where the windows line it.
“What can I say? This dog’s got tricks.”
“Better find new ones,” Green responds.
“Sorry about that,” I tell her, not a hundred percent why. Am I really sorry, or is it just an excuse to talk to her? The answer is unclear.
Her eyes meet mine, and I swear I can see myself in them for the briefest moment, before she shrugs and goes back to cleaning. “I’m used to it. No big deal.”
“Used to getting hit on?”
“That’s not what I meant.” She stops like she’s thinking about something, then continues, “I have older brothers who give me shit all the time. I get it.”
“I’m Cooper,” I say, not asking for her name. A small part of me wonders if she’ll tell me.
“Bristyl. Now, can you step back so I can clean this shit up? My plumber is going to be here soon, and I don’t need anyone falling and breaking a hip.” She looks around at the older lady using the dryer at the end. Her quirky sense of humor gets to me.
I take a step backward.
“Thanks.”
“Brother?” Green calls from the table.
I close my eyes and shake myself, wanting to ignore him, but then I turn toward my brothers.
“You alright?”
“Fine. Let’s get this shit done.”
Women are like flowers; there are so many and so many varieties out there to choose from. This woman is just one of many. I have to remember that.
So what if her voice is sin, along with her body? So what if she has a wicked tongue? None of that matters.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BRISTYL
Holy hells bells.
I’m not sure if I should be pissed that my brothers and father left me to deal with this mess or thank them for the gorgeous eye candy. Not that I would, because they’d have a fit either way, but damn. Maybe it’s my mom smiling down on me, giving me a ray of sunshine through this mess.
All three of the guys are hot in their own way. By the cuts on their backs, they belong to the Ravage Motorcycle Club. Here for the rally, of course, and will be gone in a flash. That’s how it is. What the hell, I’ll enjoy the view while I can.
I sop up the water and wring out the mop head, then repeat … again and again.
