He growled. “Brielle…”
I patted his chest. “I don’t want to talk about her. I just wanted to tell you what was going on. Just in case you thought it needed to be addressed.”
He grumbled something under his breath. Something that sounded similar to ‘I’m going to kill her.’
Grinning, I changed the subject.
“So…” I whispered tiredly. “Your spit kisses on my forehead help my headaches, and so do orgasms.”
He rolled until I was over the top of him, and I was using him as a pillow.
He chuckled underneath me as he resituated himself. “I’ll remember that the next time that you have one. Spit kisses in public, and orgasms in private.”
I tucked my face into his neck and hummed in agreement. “At least until you leave, that is. Then I’ll have to just deal with it like I always do.”
Chapter 11
I think my soul mate might be tacos.
-Text from Pru to Hoax
Hoax
At least until you leave, that is. Then I’ll just have to deal with it like I always do.
The words that had come out of her mouth last night as she’d fallen asleep hadn’t been intended maliciously. But they’d hurt to hear all the same.
On the one hand, I didn’t want to leave her. But on the other, my Delta team had been without me for an extended period now after the original break and then prolonged healing. They deserved to have me at their back. We were a team for a reason.
I had five days left before I was scheduled to fly out of Texas and into a desert hell hole.
I needed to get my affairs in order, and I needed to stop being a little whiny, love-sick bitch.
But I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about Pru.
I’d never met anyone like her before, and I certainly had never felt what I was feeling before, either.
I’d had plenty of girlfriends. Plenty of one-night stands. Plenty of experience in what love didn’t feel like.
And what I had with Pru? It was love. There was no way around it.
The things I felt for her would’ve scared me with any other woman. But with Pru? It just felt right. It felt like it was supposed to feel—easy and fucking awesome.
“Why do you have that look on your face?” Bayou asked, coming out of his bedroom dressed in full uniform. “And why are you on my couch? I thought you were staying with Pru.”
I was.
“You and I need to talk.” I sighed. “Brielle is being a pain in the ass.”
Bayou’s face went slack. “What’d she do?”
“She’s calling me hundreds of times a day. Sending text messages. Driving by Pru’s house…man, it’s getting ridiculous,” I told him.
It was better to be blunt with Bayou when it came to Brielle. He was so goddamn protective of her that sometimes he refused to see the truth when it was staring him in the face.
“How do you know she’s not driving by my house?” he countered.
I gave him a droll look. “Because she drives past your house, and then turns around so that she’s one house down from yours, across the street from hers, and stares at her house for long minutes. It’s freaking Pru out.”
Bayou growled in frustration. “I’ll talk with her.”
I grunted out a reply. “You do that. In the meantime, inform her that she needs to control herself, and stop with the stalking, because it’s fucking weird.”
Bayou sighed. “Brielle’s weird.”
Brielle was weird.
She’d always been weird.
But she couldn’t always help being weird. She was wired wrong.
Luckily, unluckily for Bayou, she wasn’t completely focusing that ‘weird’ on me.
Though, Brielle was usually only weird with Bayou and me.
I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d kind of latched on to us when she’d first come around, needing the reassurance that our care for her offered, or what.
Whatever the reason, we were both protective as hell over her.
And, from the beginning, I’d always protected her.
But now, with Pru? Pru came first, and always would.
I hadn’t realized that I could love a person like I did in such a short amount of time. That my love for Pru would trump any I felt for anybody else, even my cousins that were my only family.
But there I was, staring Bayou in the face, letting him know that if he didn’t control Brielle, I would.
“I know,” he repeated. “I realize that it’s a problem, and I’ll address it.”
“You do that.” I stood up and reached for my phone and keys that were on the coffee table. “What time do you have to be at work?”
He looked at his watch, the watch face resting on the inside of his right wrist. “In sixty-seven minutes. My shift starts at seven. I have to be there at six forty-three, or I’ll be late. Meaning I have to be leaving here at…”
I rolled my eyes. He continued to give me every single detail, explaining why and when he’d have to leave.
Bayou was very literal. He’d always been that way.
Honestly, there were several quirks about Bayou that were odd as well. That was why, I knew, Brielle and he had hit it off as well as they did. It was also why Bayou was so protective of Brielle. She was different, just like he was. And he knew what it was like to be picked on.
I was a very good fighter. I hadn’t learned that particular skill because I’d wanted to learn how to fight. I’d learned it because I’d had to protect Bayou and Brielle since I was at an impressionable age.
Nobody picked on them when I was around and didn’t pay the price for it.
“Do you want to go to breakfast?” I asked.
He grimaced. “I was meeting Brie for breakfast.”
I shook my head. “Then I’ll let you do that on your own. Let me know how it goes.”
“You can come, and I’ll have that particular discussion with her after you leave,” he offered.
I thought about that for a few minutes and then nodded my head. “I can do that.”
***
“I need to order a platter of waffles and that fruit stuff that comes with my meal on the side,” I told our waitress thirty-eight minutes later. “And can you get me a vanilla latte, half shot, as well? All of it to go?”
The waitress batted her eyes at me.
“Of course,” she said. “I’d love to.”
I waited until she was walking away to turn back to Brielle, who’d asked me a question before the waitress had come up, offering us the check.
“I’m sorry, what did you ask?” I wondered.
Her face was mutinous. “Before you so rudely interrupted me to order food for her, I was saying that I have an art exhibit on Thursday. You should come.”
I was already shaking my head. “I can’t. I’m leaving Friday morning, and I want to spend the night with Pru before I leave. I’m sorry.”
I’d been to countless shows of Brielle’s, and honestly, I hated them. They were stuffy exhibits that really did nothing for me. I was always supportive of her work, but there were only so many art shows I could go to and pretend that I cared.
And I’d much rather spend that night alone with Pru, and I thought she’d like that, too.
She’d already mentioned to me that she was going to reschedule their usual family dinner that they had that day so that she could spend it with me. Why would I want to ruin her free night with an art exhibit that we wouldn’t like? Not to mention, I couldn’t afford half the shit in that place.
I always felt like a piece of trash when I walked through those doors.
“You’re saying you’d rather spend your time with someone you just met rather than your cousin?” Brielle asked for clarification.
I shrugged. “You don’t talk to me at your art shows anyway.”
I hadn’t missed that part.
I didn’t know if it was because she was embarrassed of Bayou and me, or because she was honestly just working the room and knew that we wouldn’t care if she talked to us or not.
Whatever the reason, I didn’t like going to them, and she wouldn’t even have noticed if I was there or not anyway.
I patted his chest. “I don’t want to talk about her. I just wanted to tell you what was going on. Just in case you thought it needed to be addressed.”
He grumbled something under his breath. Something that sounded similar to ‘I’m going to kill her.’
Grinning, I changed the subject.
“So…” I whispered tiredly. “Your spit kisses on my forehead help my headaches, and so do orgasms.”
He rolled until I was over the top of him, and I was using him as a pillow.
He chuckled underneath me as he resituated himself. “I’ll remember that the next time that you have one. Spit kisses in public, and orgasms in private.”
I tucked my face into his neck and hummed in agreement. “At least until you leave, that is. Then I’ll have to just deal with it like I always do.”
Chapter 11
I think my soul mate might be tacos.
-Text from Pru to Hoax
Hoax
At least until you leave, that is. Then I’ll just have to deal with it like I always do.
The words that had come out of her mouth last night as she’d fallen asleep hadn’t been intended maliciously. But they’d hurt to hear all the same.
On the one hand, I didn’t want to leave her. But on the other, my Delta team had been without me for an extended period now after the original break and then prolonged healing. They deserved to have me at their back. We were a team for a reason.
I had five days left before I was scheduled to fly out of Texas and into a desert hell hole.
I needed to get my affairs in order, and I needed to stop being a little whiny, love-sick bitch.
But I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about Pru.
I’d never met anyone like her before, and I certainly had never felt what I was feeling before, either.
I’d had plenty of girlfriends. Plenty of one-night stands. Plenty of experience in what love didn’t feel like.
And what I had with Pru? It was love. There was no way around it.
The things I felt for her would’ve scared me with any other woman. But with Pru? It just felt right. It felt like it was supposed to feel—easy and fucking awesome.
“Why do you have that look on your face?” Bayou asked, coming out of his bedroom dressed in full uniform. “And why are you on my couch? I thought you were staying with Pru.”
I was.
“You and I need to talk.” I sighed. “Brielle is being a pain in the ass.”
Bayou’s face went slack. “What’d she do?”
“She’s calling me hundreds of times a day. Sending text messages. Driving by Pru’s house…man, it’s getting ridiculous,” I told him.
It was better to be blunt with Bayou when it came to Brielle. He was so goddamn protective of her that sometimes he refused to see the truth when it was staring him in the face.
“How do you know she’s not driving by my house?” he countered.
I gave him a droll look. “Because she drives past your house, and then turns around so that she’s one house down from yours, across the street from hers, and stares at her house for long minutes. It’s freaking Pru out.”
Bayou growled in frustration. “I’ll talk with her.”
I grunted out a reply. “You do that. In the meantime, inform her that she needs to control herself, and stop with the stalking, because it’s fucking weird.”
Bayou sighed. “Brielle’s weird.”
Brielle was weird.
She’d always been weird.
But she couldn’t always help being weird. She was wired wrong.
Luckily, unluckily for Bayou, she wasn’t completely focusing that ‘weird’ on me.
Though, Brielle was usually only weird with Bayou and me.
I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d kind of latched on to us when she’d first come around, needing the reassurance that our care for her offered, or what.
Whatever the reason, we were both protective as hell over her.
And, from the beginning, I’d always protected her.
But now, with Pru? Pru came first, and always would.
I hadn’t realized that I could love a person like I did in such a short amount of time. That my love for Pru would trump any I felt for anybody else, even my cousins that were my only family.
But there I was, staring Bayou in the face, letting him know that if he didn’t control Brielle, I would.
“I know,” he repeated. “I realize that it’s a problem, and I’ll address it.”
“You do that.” I stood up and reached for my phone and keys that were on the coffee table. “What time do you have to be at work?”
He looked at his watch, the watch face resting on the inside of his right wrist. “In sixty-seven minutes. My shift starts at seven. I have to be there at six forty-three, or I’ll be late. Meaning I have to be leaving here at…”
I rolled my eyes. He continued to give me every single detail, explaining why and when he’d have to leave.
Bayou was very literal. He’d always been that way.
Honestly, there were several quirks about Bayou that were odd as well. That was why, I knew, Brielle and he had hit it off as well as they did. It was also why Bayou was so protective of Brielle. She was different, just like he was. And he knew what it was like to be picked on.
I was a very good fighter. I hadn’t learned that particular skill because I’d wanted to learn how to fight. I’d learned it because I’d had to protect Bayou and Brielle since I was at an impressionable age.
Nobody picked on them when I was around and didn’t pay the price for it.
“Do you want to go to breakfast?” I asked.
He grimaced. “I was meeting Brie for breakfast.”
I shook my head. “Then I’ll let you do that on your own. Let me know how it goes.”
“You can come, and I’ll have that particular discussion with her after you leave,” he offered.
I thought about that for a few minutes and then nodded my head. “I can do that.”
***
“I need to order a platter of waffles and that fruit stuff that comes with my meal on the side,” I told our waitress thirty-eight minutes later. “And can you get me a vanilla latte, half shot, as well? All of it to go?”
The waitress batted her eyes at me.
“Of course,” she said. “I’d love to.”
I waited until she was walking away to turn back to Brielle, who’d asked me a question before the waitress had come up, offering us the check.
“I’m sorry, what did you ask?” I wondered.
Her face was mutinous. “Before you so rudely interrupted me to order food for her, I was saying that I have an art exhibit on Thursday. You should come.”
I was already shaking my head. “I can’t. I’m leaving Friday morning, and I want to spend the night with Pru before I leave. I’m sorry.”
I’d been to countless shows of Brielle’s, and honestly, I hated them. They were stuffy exhibits that really did nothing for me. I was always supportive of her work, but there were only so many art shows I could go to and pretend that I cared.
And I’d much rather spend that night alone with Pru, and I thought she’d like that, too.
She’d already mentioned to me that she was going to reschedule their usual family dinner that they had that day so that she could spend it with me. Why would I want to ruin her free night with an art exhibit that we wouldn’t like? Not to mention, I couldn’t afford half the shit in that place.
I always felt like a piece of trash when I walked through those doors.
“You’re saying you’d rather spend your time with someone you just met rather than your cousin?” Brielle asked for clarification.
I shrugged. “You don’t talk to me at your art shows anyway.”
I hadn’t missed that part.
I didn’t know if it was because she was embarrassed of Bayou and me, or because she was honestly just working the room and knew that we wouldn’t care if she talked to us or not.
Whatever the reason, I didn’t like going to them, and she wouldn’t even have noticed if I was there or not anyway.
