Page 147 of Shade
“Would you rather I ignore her? She’s texting me.”
“I’d rather you didn’t sleep with her.”
Tiller bends over, retrieves his phone and mumbles, “Too late.”
Roan shoves him, Tiller shoves him back and then before we know it, they’re fighting in the kitchen.
I look to Shade, who’s watching them wrestle around on the floor and then eventually steps over them. “I thought they were getting better?”
He takes a seat next to me at the kitchen island and slides a beer my way. “Apparently not. Did you book my ticket?”
I nod, still watching them. Tiller’s on top of Roan now, holding him to the ground and laughing. “Whose side are you on?”
Shade has a bag of tortilla chips next to him and a bowl of guacamole Roan made last night that’s pretty much to die for. “Side for what?”
I tip my beer toward the guys, and when his head turns, I steal the guacamole. “With them.”
Shrugging, he turns back around and glares that I’ve taken his food. “I’m not picking sides.”
Afraid he’s going to bite me, or not so afraid because his bites are worth it, I slide the bowl back his way. “Who do you agree with then?”
“Neither.” He opens the bag of chips, takes one out, and then dips it in the guacamole. “Roan fucked up. But then again, so did Tiller.”
The guys get up from the floor, and Tiller takes off running outside, does a backflip off the rocks and jumps in the pool, fully clothed.
“How’d Roan fuck up?”
“Not my place to say. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”
I love that he doesn’t tell their secrets. I wish I could do the same, but if Mila ever told me a secret, I always told Izzy for some reason. I don’t know why. It was like it was burning a hole in my mouth and I had to tell someone.
“Why don’t Roan and Tiller have to go to the photo shoot?”
Shade reaches for a chip, loads it with guacamole and then hands it to me. I’m half tempted to eat it right out of his hand, but I don’t. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll start sucking on his fingers.
As I chew the chip, bursts of cilantro, lime, and avocado filling my mouth, Shade watches my mouth closely. “Roan can’t go to any of the other Street Tour stops. He’s preparing for Erzberg, and Tiller, he refused. I’m sponsored by the event so that means I’m the face of all their advertising. Look at me. . . wouldn’t you want me?”
Do you see my face? Dead giveaway. I think even he notices.
He bumps my shoulder. “You can deny it all you want, but you’re secretly in love with me.”
There’s no secret about it, dude.
The front door opening and voices draw our attention behind us. It’s Willa, Ricky, and the baby. As soon as I notice Willa, I scoot away from Shade, trying not to be too obvious.
For the next ten minutes, we, mostly me and Willa, stare at her beautiful baby.
“What’s her name?” I ask, staring at the tiny wrinkly baby in my arms, but she’s so stinking cute. I can’t help but want to squeeze her.
Willa side-eyes Ricky, who’s grinning now, proudly.
“Berlin Gwyneth. . . Sawyer,” she says, then covers her face in what seems like embarrassment.
Shade laughs and then rips the baby from my arms like he’s a goddamn natural at holding them. “I knew it.” He gives Ricky a cocky nod. “Nicely done, Dad.”
Ricky can’t help the beaming smile plastered on his face. “Thanks.” Then he winks at Willa. “Mama did all the work though.”
And you know, I think the comment is meant to be dirty too, because Willa’s cheeks warm slightly and Shade starts laughing.
