Page 84 of Silver Spoon MC Collection: Loni's Crew

I lean my forehead against hers. “Where are the rugrats?”

“Rulie and Gloria have them for the night.” That’s odd. Usually, the kids only visit their pseudo-grandparents on the weekend.

A loud crashing noise echoes from the living room followed by hissing and growling, interrupting my thoughts. “What the fuck?” I push London behind me, wondering if a goddamn wild animal snuck into the house. Of course, the spoiled-ass Rottweiler we got from Cowboy’s unexpected litter is too busy dragging his ass on the carpet and sleeping on my favorite recliner to protect the house.

“Wait. I have to tell you something.” My wife grabs my arm, stopping me in my tracks. Glancing over my shoulder, I stare down into her guilt-laced eyes. “Uh.” London gives me a sultry smile. “Promise to listen before you freak out.”

Oh, fuck to the no. That’s the same goddamn words she used to talk me into Rocky, the useless Rottweiler. When she runs her finger down the center of my chest, my pussy-whipped brain loses the ability to say no. “It followed me home.”

Goddamnit. I feel myself caving, but I still attempt to put up a token effort. “What followed you home?”

“Bullwinkle.” She shrugs, throwing both hands up in the air. “You can’t have a Rocky without a Bullwinkle.” Oh, hell fucking yes, you can. We’ve managed it for a long time.

“What the hell kind of animal is Bullwinkle?” A fucking mountain lion? If my wife brought in a wild cat, I’m going to spank her ass red.

“A cute little kitty cat.” It sounds like a bomb is going off in our living room. “Rocky and Bullwinkle are getting acquainted right now. You know, figuring things out,” London reassures me, then rushes to add, “Don’t worry. Rulie is in there making sure Bullwinkle is nice to Rocky.”

The cat needs to be nice? The hundred-and-forty-pound Rottweiler should be able to crush a fucking house cat. Unless it really is a goddamn mountain lion. “What kind of cat are we talking about?”

“A Cheetoh.”

What the fuck? “A cheetah? Where the hell did you get a cheetah?” My wife really has lost her goddamn mind. I rub the back of my neck, wondering if I’m going to get my ass kicked by a cat when I attempt to throw it out of my house.

“Not a cheetah,” London huffs. “A Cheetoh. It’s an exotic breed of cat. A mix between a Bengal and an Ocicat.” My wife goes on to explain exotic cat breeds while I shake my head, wondering when my life got so crazy.

“The little shit finally exhausted himself.” Rulie walks into the hall holding a mini-cheetah in his arms. “Good luck getting those two to coexist.” My longtime friend smirks at me and points to the Rottweiler sticking his head around the corner nervously. “You have your work cut out here.” He hands the sleeping kitten to London. “I’m going to head home and enjoy the grandkids while you two work all this out.” What he really means iswhile Bender caves and lets London have her way.

“Isn’t Bullwinkle adorable?” London holds the spotted kitten up for me to see.

“Adorable, my ass. That thing is already the size of a full-grown cat. How much bigger is it going to get?” This fucker could already rip my hand off.

“She’s a sweet little kitty,” London argues, as I stare down at her with a raised eyebrow. “The breeder said she would get to be around twenty to twenty-five pounds.” A twenty-pound cat? Fuck me. “Hopefully,” London adds quietly, and I close my eyes to count to ten.

“Is it safe around kids?” I’m running out of arguments quickly, so I play my ace card.

“Cheetohs are bred to be sweet, gentle house cats.” I know my little mother bear wouldn’t put our kids in harm’s way, but do I really have to deal with a goddamn ugly ass cat to go with our useless dog? “She’s a little standoffish with Rocky, but they’ll get used to each other and everything will be fine.” I’m not so sure, but I’m out of arguments and steam.

“You never told me where you got the cat.” I reach for the cat and hold it up to my face for a good look. Its honey-brown eyes slowly pop open before the little shit swipes at my nose.

“Milly has been researching exotic cats. I went with her to meet this breeder, and we both bought kittens.” At least another one of my brothers is suffering, too. I’m sure Damien shit a small puppy when he saw what his wife brought home.

“As long as this little shit learns her place and doesn’t cause trouble, we can keep her.” I don’t even put up a fight, knowing when I’m beat.

Too bad the little shit doesn’t pay attention to my stipulations. Bullwinkle waits until the kids and my wife are completely in love with her before showing her true colors. The little stinker literally rules the roost. My goddamn useless Rottweiler thinks the sun rises and sets with the fucking cat. He follows Bullwinkle around like a motherfucking moron. That makes two pussy-whipped males living in my house.

BONUS SCENE-THE ARCHITECT

RAFE

I’m sitting at the counter, watching my wife pack the girls’ lunches for preschool when my phone dings with a text reminding me about the upcoming barbecue. “Cash is having a barbecue at the compound this weekend to unveil the kids’ park, and I told him we’d bring your rocky road cake.” I’ve been busy designing and overseeing the construction of the Silver Spoon MC kids’ park for the last several months. “I’m so sorry I forgot to tell you.”

“It’s okay. Hadley told me about it at the book club.” I should’ve known one of the other wives would tell her.

“I promise you things will get back to normal now that the kids’ park is done.” I’ve been working my ass off to make sure the large playground is well-designed and safe. There’s no way I’d ever allow one of the MC children to get hurt on something I designed.

“Don’t worry.” My wife looks over at me and wiggles her eyebrows. “I’ll let you make it up to me tonight after the kids go to bed.”

“It’s a date.” I’d be crazy to turn down that fucking invitation.

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