Page 33 of Damaged Protector
She really drew out that last one, and it hit all the adults at once. Laughter exploded around the table—from everyone except the little girls who looked confused at the hilarity.
Even Shiloh was giggling, though her face was beet red. Amelia piped up. “Well, when my mommy and daddy go to bed—”
“I’ll give you both a dollar if you stop talking right now,” Tank broke in, and the girls shared a look—silently agreeing—before each held out a tiny hand. He dug out his wallet and passed over the bills to the little money-grubbers.
As he lifted a hip to put it back in his pocket, Gram said, “You all want to know what Jorge calls me?”
Tank paused and pulled his wallet back out. “How much will it cost me for you to not tell us?”
“A twenty oughta do it.”
When he sighed, I leaned forward over the table and mock-whispered, “Gram, I’ll give you fifty if you tell us right now.”
“Hawk!” my friend snapped, frowning at me as his grandmother grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.
I handed over the money, and she announced, “He calls me Sweet Dumpling.”
Tank sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “Oh, that’s not too bad, I guess.”
“You know those dumplings you get at the Chinese restaurant? Well, he says my—”
Her grandson tossed his entire wallet at her and covered his ears. “For the love of god! Take it all. Just don’t say any more!”
I was laughing so hard I could barely see Bristol tilting back her head and chugging an entire glass of margarita. I couldn’t even imagine her struggles, having to live with these two.
Mallori and I entered my house through the garage door after dinner, and I tossed my keys on the kitchen counter.
“You didn’t have to carry my bags in,” she scolded, taking the five I was carrying from my left hand.
“What all did you buy? I thought you were getting a robe.”
“Oh calm down, Dad,” she shot over her shoulder, and I had the sudden urge to turn her over my knee and teach her to watch that smart mouth around me.
What the fucking hell? I visibly cringed at my dirty thought, but luckily Mal didn’t see it as she exited the kitchen. “I just needed some summer things. I knew Texas was hot, but no one told me it was like living in an oven.”
My eyes seemed to have a mind of their own… a mind that obviously possessed not a shred of common fucking sense because they stayed trained on her small, round backside until it was gone. Imagining red handprints and—
My cock twitched, and I reached down and adjusted myself, finding it half hard. Because of thoughts of Mallori and her perky little ass.
“Christ,” I muttered to myself, swiping a hand down my face and turning to open the refrigerator. Maybe the cool air from the fridge would keep my chub from getting any chubbier.
That’s the last goddamn thing I needed. She was Cam’s cousin, who he happened to be very protective of, for fuck’s sake. I couldn’t be getting boners around her.
Contrary to what my friends thought, I didn’t get laid every five seconds. In fact, when I searched my memory, I was pretty sure it had been around a month since I’d fucked a woman.
My dick was just a bit lonely at the moment, so he was responding to a visual stimulus. “A very nice one,” I said to myself.
Or so I thought.
“A very nice what?” came a voice from behind me. Mallori. Fuck.
“Beer,” I said, blurting out the first thing I saw on the top shelf. I snagged two, holding them between my fingers and turning. “I, uh, really like longnecks instead of cans.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, her brow furrowing a little. “Why were you standing there in the refrigerator for so long?”
Because, Mal, I was attempting to deflate my hard-on, which coincidentally, I achieved by staring at your ass. Any more questions?
“Just trying to decide if I wanted a snack with my beer,” I lied, offering her one of the bottles. She took it, biting into her bottom lip as she struggled to twist off the top. I pulled it away from her, my lips turning up into an almost smile. “Give me that, you wimp.”