The Exception(69)

“Seriously? What are they listening to?” Kari said, twisting her face in disgust.

“It’s Five Finger Death Punch. I heard it playing in Cane’s Denali the other day.”

“We’re going to have to fix that!”

The door flew open and Max stood there in a pair of camouflage swim trunks, sans shirt and shoes. A dark tattoo ran up his left side, a mixture of art and words. His left pectoral muscle had a tribal design, too. His dark hair was wet and looked like he had been running his hand through it, the one presumably not holding the red plastic cup. I stifled a laugh as Max smiled seductively at Kari.

“Hey,” Kari said in her flirtiest voice, giving him a megawatt smile.

“Ladies,” Max said, eyeing us for a second before bending down and kissing my sister. “Come on in. Cane is out back.”

I stepped through the doorway and glanced around the great room. The house was bright and airy. A black leather sofa and love seat faced a large flat screen television mounted on the wall, a pool table sitting behind the sofa. There was a selection of magazines on the coffee table, but not a lot of personal touches. Everything was very masculine, but organized.

We sauntered into the kitchen and I could see Cane outside, tending the grill. He had on a pair of white swim trunks with a blue checkered print that hung low on his hips and sunglasses. And that was deliciously it.

His body was golden brown and chiseled to perfection. He wasn’t too big and bound up looking, just athletic and strong. I couldn’t help but whimper a little at the sight; he looked like he walked straight out of a magazine.

Cane looked up and slowly removed the sunglasses. He scanned my body and a slow smile spread across his face. He raised his hand and crooked his finger towards me and I felt like Baby in Dirty Dancing. I exchanged a smile with Kari, who was sitting on a couch in the family room off the kitchen. I made my way to the back patio.

Cane wrapped me up in his arms and dragged me against him, his hands going up my cover-up and palming my ass. “For the love of fuck, woman! Forget the orange dress—this is my new favorite.” He bent down and kissed me roughly on the lips.

I giggled against his mouth and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Well, this is your best look. Clothes just detract from you, Cane Alexander.” I rubbed my hands down his chest. “Words don’t do you justice.”

“Words are messy, remember?” He winked at me. “And they are not necessary for what I have planned later. You will only need one, actually. My name. On repeat.”

“You aren’t burning that shit, are you?” Max asked, coming outside and breaking our moment.

“Oh, hell!” Cane laughed, turning to the grill and removing the steaks onto a platter.

I laughed as I went back inside to help Kari get the drinks. Max came in behind me.

My nerves had eased, replaced by a feeling of contentedness. I felt alive with Cane and comfortable in his home, not at all like the outsider I had feared. He didn’t seem to feel weird with me here either, which I had feared the most.

“I’m changing this music,” Max said, walking over to the deck and replacing Cane’s iPod with his own.

“What are you doing?” Cane yelled through the glass.

“This shit is giving me a headache!” Max yelled over his shoulder.

“I can’t help you have bad taste in music!”

“Ah, here we go,” Max mumbled before Florida Georgia Line began playing through the speakers. “He really loves this. He just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“No, I do not!” Cane shouted from the patio as we all made our way back outside. “Your music taste is about like your football taste—it blows!”

Max chuckled as he turned his head to Kari and I. “Not sure why I like him, really. He’s irritable, a total asshole, likes shitty music, and the San Francisco 49’ers.”

A tapping sound on the glass caught our attention. Cane’s face was close to the window. “I can hear you, you motherfucker.”

We laughed as we made our way outside and got settled around the glass table and filled our plates with the juicy steaks and potatoes that the boys had grilled.

“So what’s your deal with actual glass cups,” Cane asked Max, sipping on a bottle of water and nodding to the drink in Max’s hand. “Did you cut your finger or some shit as a kid?”

“Fuck off, Alexander,” Max said. “These are the perfect drink accessory.” He held his red cup in the air. “See this bottom line,” he pointed. “This is the ‘liquor line’. The second one is the ‘wine line’, which, I may add, no man should ever use. Now the top one is the ‘beer line,’ but you can live a little and go over it if you want.”