Page 206 of By His Vow
“I can uninvite you,” I remind him.
“Aw, Bro. Did I touch a nerve? Don’t tell me you keep the panties of that swimsuit in the drawer of your nightstand so you can sniff them before falling asleep?”
“You’re a fucking asshole.” They’re in my wardrobe, and I haven’t sniffed them for years. Not since her scent faded.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “You love me, though. So, what’s the plan? We’re not actually staying in your suite for your bachelor party, are we? That’s fucking lame, man, even for you.”
“I’m getting married tomorrow,” I remind him. “I’m not doing it with a hangover.”
Kieran raises a brow at me, clearly unimpressed with my plan.
“It’s not even a real fucking wedding. Who gives a shit if you turn up half-cut?”
Anger bubbles inside me. “I do. I fucking care.”
Kieran’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, Bro. Have you fallen for her?”
I force out a laugh. “No, I haven’t fucking fallen for her. Tatum War?—”
“Callahan,” he corrects like the smug asshole that he is.
“Tatum is the bane of my fucking life. Did Kian tell you about her cat?”
“Her cat?” he echoes.
“Yes, her fucking cat. She moved it into my apartment.”
To be fair, he attempts to hide his amusement, but it doesn’t last very long because his lips twitch and then he throws his head back and laughs.
“You hate cats.”
“You don’t need to tell me that,” I complain.
“We need more beer for this,” he says, pushing to his feet and marching toward the fridge, pulling out four bottles.
“Fucking thing made me bleed,” I say, lifting my sweater so he can see the healing wound.
“Oh shit. I hope you made her make up for that.” I don’t react. Or at least, I don’t think I do. But something gives me away. “Oh, Bro. You are so fucked. I bet she’s fucking wild in bed. She’s got that glint in her eye that screams ‘I love it hard and dirty.’”
Kieran is getting too excited by his possible discovery to notice that the main door to the suite has been unlocked, or that we’ve been joined by two others. That soon changes when something heavy goes flying across the room. It brushes past my head, a beat before it collides with Kieran’s.
“What the fuck?” he bellows, letting the box of tissues drop into his lap.
“That’s the fucking least you deserve talking about my sister like that, asshole,” Miles sneers.
“Oh Jesus, give me strength,” Kian mutters, throwing his small suitcase and overnight bag over the end of the couch.
“I have beer,” I offer as a substitute.
“I’m gonna need something stronger if these two are going to bicker like little girls all night.”
“Apparently, we’re not allowed adult drinks tonight because they would be too much fun for the old man here before his big day,” Kieran deadpans.
“Yeah, no. Fuck that,” Kian mutters. “I’m not putting up with you lot sober. It’s just not happening.”
He marches over to the drinks cabinet and searches through the options.
“Who the fuck stocked this, our grandmother?”