Page 85 of Mark
“Classy,” Esther mutters, curling her lip at Freya.
I glance at Danny now, reading him, gauging his reaction. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like that I’ve had Freya in that way. And going from the way his eyebrows lower, he hasn’t had her like that either.
“You are just as bad as your wife. At least she’s obvious,” I tell him. “But you get off on thinking Freya wants you. It makes you feel like a man.”
Freya snorts. “Not a chance.”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re wrong.”
“I don’t think I am,” I reply.
“She’s my sister,” Esther growls.
“You throw that around like it means something but it clearly meant nothing to you,” I fire back.
“If Mum and Dad want to spend time with me, then they can come over. They’re welcome to join us.”
“I’m pretty sure they left five minutes ago,” Charlotte blurts out.
Sure enough, they are no longer there.
“Couldn’t have wanted to spend time with her that much,” I state.
Freya sighs. “Just go. You are killing the mood.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back in the mood,” I promise, pressing my lips to her neck.
“Why are you still here?” Freya mutters when they don’t leave.
“Come on, you promised me an early night,” Danny states, placing his hands on her hips.
But his fucking gaze is on my woman.
I don’t look away, not until the fucker turns around and leaves.
Charlotte’s shoulders drop and she lets out a heavy breath. “That was awkward as hell.”
“Did you have to go into detail?” Faith accuses, glaring at me. “There are some things a sister doesn’t need to hear.”
I shrug. “They needed to hear it.” I glance at Freya and pull her close. “You pissed?”
“No, it was rather amusing,” she admits, then pats my cheek. “But if you get salt in your drink at some point, you know why.”
My lips twitch. “I can live with that.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have all been waiting for. The results are in, and let me tell you, these scores are a first,” the announcer starts. “Up in first place, winning the six hundred dollars, is…” Drums play over the speakers and everyone sits up. “Table four.”
Uncle Max stands, cheering so loud it hurts my head. He jumps onto his chair, throwing his hands up. “That is how it’s done.” He points to the tables we’re all at. “Are you entertained?” he roars, banging his chest.
“I’m embarrassed,” Hayden hisses, dropping down in her seat. “You’re embarrassing.”
“How many did I win by?” he asks the announcer.
She’s startled by the demand. “Um, we don’t—”
“Yeah you do. Everyone keeps a score,” he states, turning to the guy at the table with the pieces of paper we wrote on. “Come on, how much did I crush these losers by?”
The young man’s lips twitch. “By one.”