Page 72 of Beneath Your Beautiful
“Not fast enough,” I said. “You caught me.”
Sawyer snorted, and Garrett gave us a stern look that cracked us up.
“I’ll need to see your license and registration.”
“Seriously?” I looked at his face. Either he was serious, or he was good at role-playing because he hadn’t broken character. He looked like Dad—brown hair, square jaw with a cleft, hazel eyes. My brother Garrett looked like Superman, and nothing like Sawyer and me. “You’re taking this too far.”
He held out his hand and wiggled his fingers for me to hand over the documents. I rolled my eyes as I retrieved the license from my purse and Sawyer handed over the registration from the glove compartment. Killian’s registration, might I add. “Put a guy in a uniform, and it goes right to his head,” I muttered.
“Eden Madley. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t give you a ticket today.” He didn’t even bother to inspect the license or registration.
“Hmm…let me think.” I snapped my fingers. “I’ll give you two good reasons. This isn’t my car so I’m not responsible for speeding in it.” Sawyer snickered. “And our wayward son is back. So, we need to get home and get this party started.” I slid my sunglasses down my nose and gave him a big wink.
“A party’s not a party until we show up,” Sawyer crowed, and I turned in my seat to high-five him.
Garrett shook his head at our display. Nothing’s changed. He was always the sensible one. Mom used to tell us he felt left out, that three’s a crowd. But Garrett was four years older, and infinitely wiser, and never showed any interest in joining our shenanigans, as he called them. “You’re damn lucky it was me.”
“Oh please,” I scoffed. “I saw you a mile away. Dad is way better than you are.” It was no joke. Our dad snagged Sawyer and me more times than we cared to remember. Not that I saw Garrett, but I didn’t mention that. “If you were attempting to hide and catch unsuspecting victims, you did a shitty job of it.”
“Watch your mouth, girl. You’re speaking to an officer of the law.”
“You look like you’ve got a stick up your ass in that uniform,” Sawyer said.
“Nice haircut,” Garrett said. “Someone get after you with a buzz saw?”
They went back and forth, sharing their own brand of brotherly love. When they exhausted their arsenal of insults, Garrett wagged his finger at me like the stern big brother giving me hell. “You shouldn’t be speeding. Whose car is this?”
“You got us arrested, Sunshine?” Killian asked. All three of us turned to look at him as he sat up, running a hand over his much shorter hair.
“Pfft. Happens all the time in this neck of the woods,” I said, waving it off. “This officer is overzealous. Needs to meet his quota for the week.”
Killian rolled down his window and I looked over at Garrett whose jaw had nearly dropped to the ground.
“Killian ‘The Kill’ Vincent?”
“Guilty,” Killian answered, shaking the hand Garrett offered through the back window.
“Don’t call him ‘The Kill’,” I muttered, but nobody was paying attention. Garrett was too busy introducing himself, shaking Killian’s hand, and fangirling all over him.
“Did he call you sunshine?” Sawyer asked me, while Garrett ran through some of the highlights of Killian’s career, as if Killian wasn’t fully aware of his stats. I had no idea Garrett wasthatbig of a fan or that knowledgeable on the subject but, sadly, he was.
I nodded. “I’m Killian’s sunshine.”
Sawyer snorted laughter. “You’re more like a hurricane or a tornado.”
My fist connected with his bicep. It bounced right off, though, and Sawyer snickered at me. “Nice try, Chicken Little.” Yep, just like old times. But it made me happy when Sawyer acted like a teenaged idiot.
“Can we go now, officer?” I asked, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.
“Drive safely,” Garrett said. “No more speeding.”
“Catch me if you can,” I yelled out the window before I pulled off the shoulder and rocketed down the road. But I eased off the accelerator and stuck to the speed limit. If Garrett caught me again, he wouldn’t let me off easy. My dad never did, so Garrett had big shoes to fill.
I pulled into the driveway of our brick and white-sided split-level house with the perfectly manicured lawn. Dad prided himself on his lawnmowing skills—the lines were as straight as always. Sawyer looked up at the stars and stripes, blowing in the breeze from the flagpole in our front yard. I wondered if he was tempted to salute it.
I hopped out of the Jeep and wrapped my arms around Killian. “Are you up for this?”
He kissed me on the lips. “Bring it on.”
