9
Barber
The blindinglight of the morning sun flashed in my eyes, making me blink awake with a groan. I grabbed my pillow and jammed it over my head, cursing the headache that throbbed from my injury. I should have brought the painkillers upstairs with me last night, but my focus had been on getting Quain into bed and fucking him into oblivion. It didn’t happen on the bed the first few times, but I wasn’t complaining. The sex was the best I’d had in who the fuck knew how long. Too long.
“Flaccid ham.” The quiet murmur had me throwing the pillow to the side. I pushed myself up on my elbow and stared down at Quain. His eyes were closed but his mouth was moving, whispering things I couldn’t hear. A few times he spoke loud enough, though. “The Aussies want my flaccid ham.”
I grunted out a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll protect your meat from the mean Aussies.”
“Mean Aussies,” he whispered, groaning as he shuffled to his side, his face close to my arm. “They’re as bad as the Kiwis.”
I laughed louder and smothered it with my hand.Fuck.Did Quain have any idea he talked in his sleep? I guessed he did because obviously KC knew. He hadn’t believed me when I’d told him before, though. The talking was the cutest damn thing I’d ever seen, and I wished I had my phone on me so I could record it, but it was downstairs with the painkillers.
Groaning, I rolled off the bed and sat on the edge, touching the back of my head. Grant had finished cleaning it up before he’d stitched it, which meant there was no blood, but the cut still hurt like a bitch. Muttering about the stupid-ass fucker who’d attacked me, I shoved myself to my feet and strolled into Quain’s fancy walk-in closet. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants big enough to fit and pulled them on before I picked up a shirt, too. When I was mostly dressed, I pissed in his toilet before heading downstairs.
I yawned as I checked my phone. There was only one message from King, asking if I was okay, so I replied with a thumbs-up. Walking around the kitchen island, I grabbed a glass and opened the fridge to check what Quain had in there. I chose orange juice and filled my cup before I took a long swig.
“Ah, that hit the spot.”
The sound of banging had me turning, and I yanked open the curtains above the sink to check out back. The garage door was open a sliver and the sounds were coming from there. Taking my juice with me, I headed for the door just off the kitchen, grabbing a jacket hanging on a hook near the doorframe on the way past, and stepped outside into the cold fall morning.
KC was inside the garage, sitting down next to a Harley, his body curved forward as he used a monkey wrench to tighten a bolt near the engine.
“Hey, kid.”
KC’s attention snapped to me and he relaxed. “Hey, Barber. What’s up? Have a good night last night?” He grinned knowingly.
I snorted and shrugged, grabbing a chair from the corner of the garage and dragging it over beside the bike. I sat down on it and took another sip of juice. “Your dad is something else.”
He scrunched up his nose. “Ew. I don’t want to know about Pa’s sex life.”
“Did I say anything about sex?” I winked at him, and he rolled his eyes before narrowing them on my shiny new bruises.
“What happened to you? Pa didn’t do that, did he?” The concern on his face was adorable but amusing.
I cracked up, curling my arm around my gut as I leaned forward from laughing so hard. “Your dad? No, kid. I think I can handle a hairstylist if he ever tried to hurt me.”
“Sure….” He smiled slyly and after my chuckles died down, I frowned.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Shrugging, he returned his focus to the bike. “This is my uncle Jayden’s bike, the one I told you about before. He doesn’t ride it much anymore and he said if I could fix it up, it’s mine. Pa didn’t like the idea.”
“Your uncle? That your dad’s brother?” I asked, curious about Quain’s life. So far I only knew about his father, who lived in a small cabin right on the outskirts of the city and liked hunting, his mom, and KC.
“Nope. My aunt is Pa’s sister. Uncle Jayden is her husband. He’s pretty cool.” He snorted. “For a cop.”
“Wait. Your uncle is a cop. Seriously?” I frowned. “I thought your dad didn’t like cops.”
“He doesn’t. Jayden’s kinda an exception to the rule, I guess. But they live in a small town outside of the city. Seldom Seen. You heard of it? It’s about an hour and a half south.” The wrench slipped and hit KC on the knuckle and he cursed, shaking his head and glaring at the Harley. “Motherfucking bitch.”
“Hey now, manners. You don’t want to upset your father.” I winked at him, and he snorted.
“You know he curses more than you think. He’s not such a saint.” He flashed me his pearly whites. KC was a good-looking kid, and while he wasn’t Quain’s by blood, it wasn’t hard to see the respect and love he had for him.
“Shut up. Not a saint? I don’t believe you. Your dad hasmorals.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, the morals of a sinner. He just likes busting your balls.” Grinning, he continued, “Kinda like what you do to him, but in his own style.”
