way he saw it, a few beers and some cards should go a long way toward dulling those edges.
Insults were tossed over the next several hands and Drake was already well into his second beer when “the wives” bustled into the room. He enjoyed the company of Ava and Ilsa and he’d already warmed to their newest addition, Quinn’s wife, Montana.
“I know it’s poker night but none of us could resist showing off our new shoes,” Ava sang out as they descended on the table en masse.
“It’s our lucky night, boys,” Rogan ground out around his teeth, which were currently clamped around a cigar.
“Oh, shut up and go back to smoking that smelly piece of shit in your mouth,” Ilsa shot back at him as she dropped herself into Kane’s lap. “I’m sure my husband doesn’t want your opinion of my FMP’s anyway.”
The question was on the tip of Drake’s tongue before Rogan beat him to the punch. “FMP’s?”
Drake saw Kane shake his head before Ilsa merrily chortled out, “Fuck me pumps.”
“What the hell, Ilsa!” Rogan gently stuck his cigar in the ashtray next to him before shoving his hands over his ears. “You’ve scarred me for life.”
“Oh, come now. You’re a big boy, Rogan. I’ve no doubt you’ve seen more than your share of FMP’s,” Ava crooned as she reached over her husband’s shoulder to sneak a peak at Brody’s cards before grabbing a handful of chips.
“Yeah. On women who should be wearing said articles of footwear. I have no interest in envisioning them on my sisters.”
“And it damn well better stay that way,” Brody muttered under his breath.
Drake took another swig of his beer as Kane tossed a handful of chips around the slender woman in his arms. Damn, but this felt good. A few hands of cards with his warrior brothers and a bunch of good-natured ribbing and trash talk. Even the women had added a dimension to all their lives none of them had expected.
Family.
They’d always had a bond, but the women had turned their house into a home. And had formalized their relationship into something large and familial.
So yeah, he and his brothers had to hear about FMP’s in addition to terrifying conditions like bloating, bad manicures and that horror of horrors, split ends. But these women had their back—not to mention some serious powers in their own right—and each and every one of them knew it.
Drake figured it was a more than fair trade off.
“Speaking of FMP’s,” Ilsa ground out before her gaze made a bull’s-eye on him. “There’s been some sexing in our Pisces’ room of late. In fact, I’m quite sure I heard someone sneaking out just last night which, I believe, made for the third night in a row.”
“Ilsa!” Ava hissed.
Drake’s good mood fled on swift wings as Ilsa’s words hung over the room. And before he knew it, the double-edged sword of family skewered him clean through. “Drop it, Ilsa.”
Montana added a low-level “shhh” to Ava’s unspoken admonishment to shut up, without success.
“Come one, Drake. We’re all dying to know.” Ilsa shot a pointed glance to the other two women even as a bright pink color spread up her neck and into her cheeks. “All of us.”
He refused the bait. “I’m sure your immortality can withstand the torture.”
Heavy, awkward silence replaced the jovial air and Drake bent to review his cards and pull together the chips for his bet. Within a few hands the women got bored and disappeared to have their own bonding time and then he waited a few more hands to make his leaving as inconspicuous as possible.
“I’m heading up.”
“Drake? You sure you don’t want to try and win that grand back from me? It’d be a shame to let me keep it without a fight.” Brody’s voice boomed even as his smile was forced.
Drake snagged one last beer from the cooler. “Nah, consider it a favor. Especially since it looks like your wife just spent it on shoes.”
Five minutes later, he found himself wandering up to
Insults were tossed over the next several hands and Drake was already well into his second beer when “the wives” bustled into the room. He enjoyed the company of Ava and Ilsa and he’d already warmed to their newest addition, Quinn’s wife, Montana.
“I know it’s poker night but none of us could resist showing off our new shoes,” Ava sang out as they descended on the table en masse.
“It’s our lucky night, boys,” Rogan ground out around his teeth, which were currently clamped around a cigar.
“Oh, shut up and go back to smoking that smelly piece of shit in your mouth,” Ilsa shot back at him as she dropped herself into Kane’s lap. “I’m sure my husband doesn’t want your opinion of my FMP’s anyway.”
The question was on the tip of Drake’s tongue before Rogan beat him to the punch. “FMP’s?”
Drake saw Kane shake his head before Ilsa merrily chortled out, “Fuck me pumps.”
“What the hell, Ilsa!” Rogan gently stuck his cigar in the ashtray next to him before shoving his hands over his ears. “You’ve scarred me for life.”
“Oh, come now. You’re a big boy, Rogan. I’ve no doubt you’ve seen more than your share of FMP’s,” Ava crooned as she reached over her husband’s shoulder to sneak a peak at Brody’s cards before grabbing a handful of chips.
“Yeah. On women who should be wearing said articles of footwear. I have no interest in envisioning them on my sisters.”
“And it damn well better stay that way,” Brody muttered under his breath.
Drake took another swig of his beer as Kane tossed a handful of chips around the slender woman in his arms. Damn, but this felt good. A few hands of cards with his warrior brothers and a bunch of good-natured ribbing and trash talk. Even the women had added a dimension to all their lives none of them had expected.
Family.
They’d always had a bond, but the women had turned their house into a home. And had formalized their relationship into something large and familial.
So yeah, he and his brothers had to hear about FMP’s in addition to terrifying conditions like bloating, bad manicures and that horror of horrors, split ends. But these women had their back—not to mention some serious powers in their own right—and each and every one of them knew it.
Drake figured it was a more than fair trade off.
“Speaking of FMP’s,” Ilsa ground out before her gaze made a bull’s-eye on him. “There’s been some sexing in our Pisces’ room of late. In fact, I’m quite sure I heard someone sneaking out just last night which, I believe, made for the third night in a row.”
“Ilsa!” Ava hissed.
Drake’s good mood fled on swift wings as Ilsa’s words hung over the room. And before he knew it, the double-edged sword of family skewered him clean through. “Drop it, Ilsa.”
Montana added a low-level “shhh” to Ava’s unspoken admonishment to shut up, without success.
“Come one, Drake. We’re all dying to know.” Ilsa shot a pointed glance to the other two women even as a bright pink color spread up her neck and into her cheeks. “All of us.”
He refused the bait. “I’m sure your immortality can withstand the torture.”
Heavy, awkward silence replaced the jovial air and Drake bent to review his cards and pull together the chips for his bet. Within a few hands the women got bored and disappeared to have their own bonding time and then he waited a few more hands to make his leaving as inconspicuous as possible.
“I’m heading up.”
“Drake? You sure you don’t want to try and win that grand back from me? It’d be a shame to let me keep it without a fight.” Brody’s voice boomed even as his smile was forced.
Drake snagged one last beer from the cooler. “Nah, consider it a favor. Especially since it looks like your wife just spent it on shoes.”
Five minutes later, he found himself wandering up to
Similar Books
