All the while, they rib each other and me. They laugh and joke. They eat lunch together and talk about their plans for the week. And they all weirdly include me.
My lips press to Kylie’s head during one of the shit-shoveling breaks, and she leans against me, tired as she kisses my neck.
“It’s not always like this. Most days are easy. It’s just Mondays that take the longest, because we do minimal of work on the weekends,” she assures me.
Before I can say anything, George Malone is coming around the corner with two bottles of water. He hands me one, and I drink it down as he talks to Kylie about the auction.
“Liam can join us,” he says, his eyes not bothering to meet mine.
Kylie just grins. “I’ll let him know,” she says seriously.
He scowls at her, then turns and faces me. “You can join us,” he tells me grudgingly.
“Thanks,” I say with a small grin. “I’d like that.”
He turns and walks away without another word, and I idly wonder what my life would have been like if I’d had a family like this. People who are just there. People who can fight one second, then talk to you like nothing is wrong in the next.
“Just another hour, and we can get out of here. I’ll take you to—”
I cut her off, kissing her as I pin her up against the tree, and she grins against my lips as she pulls me closer.
When we break the kiss, she gives me a curious look. “What was that for?” she asks.
“Monday,” is what I tell her before returning to the pile of shit I’ve almost gotten completely shoveled into the wagon. Because there’s a wagon being pulled by a jackass—a literal jackass.
This is my Monday.
By the time we’re finished, her dad has a tray of lemonade, and all the Malones, Jared included, are sitting down under a shade tree in a circle around a fire pit.
They’re laughing and talking, and two of the Malones are volleying insults at each other.
I take the last seat available, and tug Kylie onto my lap. No one bats an eye.
“So you’re officially a Tomahawk man now,” her dad tells me, lifting his glass as I chug down the lemonade, surprised by how good it is.
I nod, not bothering to open my mouth and say something that might get something thrown at my head. Never can tell with these people. It’s a family of sour patch kids.
“He’s not Tomahawk. He’s still city until he builds a house instead of buying someone else’s,” Jason says, smirking at me like he just delivered some mega insult I missed.
“Kylie has an apartment, so that makes zero sense,” I point out.
“You calling me stupid?” he asks, scowling.
“No. I just think you have bad luck when you try to speak and think at the same time.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, Jared Malone gets strangled on his drink, his body laughing and coughing at once, as the rest of the Malones dissolve into laughter, Kylie included.
“If I wanted to hear from an asshole, I’d fart,” Jason grumbles, and I start laughing as well.
The conversations moves along, and I join in on occasion, taking a few verbal digs and delivering a few of my own.
As Kylie settles back on me, verbally sparring with Jared, I feel how relaxed and comfortable I am.
Some people go their whole lives without ever figuring out where they fit in.
Turns out, sometimes almost dying can save your life.
A trooper car suddenly soars by, two more close behind it, screams following their wake.
Everyone turns to watch as another trooper comes “speeding” by on a…pink bicycle? He’s looking over his shoulder, panicking as he pedals like his life depends on it.
That’s when we hear what sounds like an entire pride of lions or something roaring, screeching, and making other ferocious, feral cat sounds. I tense, ready to run Kylie inside, as the Malones all curse, including the girl in my lap.
“Looks like the Nickels won this year,” Kylie groans.
“We’ll never hear the end of it,” Jared grumbles as the bicycling trooper screams on a downhill slope and disappears from sight.
I relax in my seat again, shaking my head.
This isn’t just my Monday. This is my life.
My arms tighten around Kylie’s waist, and she leans back to kiss me on autopilot as conversation resumes, all of them acting like none of that just happened.
It’s a Monday I’ll remember.
Chapter 22
Wild Ones Tip #587
It’d be easier to tell you to wear a helmet all the time instead of trying to guess when you might need one. Just don’t make it weird.
LIAM
“Has she tried to contact you since leaving?” I ask Kylie as her lips brush against my chest.
“My mom?” she asks absently, her body relaxed against mine as I trace imaginary patterns on her bare skin. At my nod, she answers, “No. She knew there was no turning back when she walked away.”