Page 94 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
I appreciate it.
I wish it would last.
Then Dean asks, “What kind of positions?”
I swear his mind is one big adult film on loop.
“I ain’t pitchin’ my tent anywhere near yours.” Bronx rests a bottle of water over my shoulder. “Drink?”
Did he douse himself in cologne this morning? Trying a little too hard, maybe? To impress who is the big question?
“No thanks.” My teeth grind.
He twists off the cap with a faint snap. “The last thing I need is your moaning in the background when I’m coming back with a ten.” He sips the drink with an obnoxious slurp, way too close to my ear.
“In that case, you’d better pitch your tent on the far side of our site, because I’ll be moaning.” Dean kicks up his legs, propping them on the dash, crossing his ankles. “Moanin’ and screamin’ and gruntin’. I don’t hold back when I’m caught in the throes of passion.”
“No one cares.” I slap his leg. “Get your damn feet down.”
“Oh, relax.” He leaves them there.
Relax?
I can feel my blood pressure rising, but it’s nothing to do with my idiot brother.
This isn’t just one wrong turn. We’re way off track. Jade is messing with me. The detours aren’t mistakes; they’re her silent punches. We’re miles past the route, and she’s loving everysecond of it. For a clipboard, agenda-following queen, she’s really branching out to piss me off.
I should’ve led the caravan, and I’m tempted to get back onto the correct route, with or without her RV, but I’d never hear the end of it from Levi since Hope is in theirs.
“Now, if you want to talk about Lapsnorkeling, I’ve got my count high.” Dean stretches proudly until the toe of his boots taps the windshield.
Coming from my brother, and its twisted name, this isn’t going to be about typical snorkeling.
“No one wants to talk about it.” I check the side mirrors, then my gaze returns to the road ahead.
The chrome accents framing the rear lights of their RV catch every ray of light and flash against my sunglasses.
“Not to be confused with The Snorkel.” Not surprised he doesn’t listen, and I’d still bet he’s not talking about a breathing tube.
Unfortunately, I’m not the only person in this RV.
“Lapsnorkeling?” Bronx drapes his arms over the top of my seat. “The Snorkel? Give me more.”
Was there ever a time when I liked this guy?
“Sittin’ on her face. One testie over each eye socket, and your dick in her mouth. Nice and deep. Looks like she’s wearing a snorkel and mask.”
In that moment, I forget all about Jade.
My gaze slides to my brother. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” My voice comes out slow and heavy as I try to process what I just heard.
“What?” Dean shrugs. “He asked.”
“I don’t know how you roped a woman like Harper into dating you. You’re a sex crazed lunatic, and she’s—”
“She’s my perfect match.” The only time Dean sounds sincere is when he talks about Harper. “I’ll tell you all my dark littlesecrets, what I like and what I don’t. But I won’t drag out Harper’s. But just you know, I take good fucking care of her. In bed and out of bed. She’s my everything, man.”
Sappy Dean is sacred and weird. Deep down, I know he treats her right. His actions speak volumes. But it’s his obnoxious mouth that makes him sound like a sex-crazed maniac.
