“I know, right?” Oliver mumbled.
“You’re welcome, both of you.”
He swatted me on the shoulder, but my words won laughter from KC and Oliver.
After breakfast, more kissing, and watching Oliver get dressed in KC’s clothes—or more specifically, a clean football jersey that belonged to KC, which admittedly was hot as fuck—we headed out to the market in Shakira.
I had a lot of expectations after growing up in LA, and the market was nothing like them. There were a lot more stalls thanI’d conjured up in my mind and they were filled with homemade creations, from food to furniture to knickknacks that were honestly adorable. My mom would call them dust collectors, though. Our house had always been more of a designer mansion than a cozy home.
“They’re here!” Oliver pointed at the stall with a display of bear claws, his excitement palpable. I didn’t think I’d ever heard so much eagerness from him. He leaned in closer. “The woman who bakes them does it when she has spare time. Her name is Madam Winters. Really nice lady, originally from the South.” Then, he straightened again and grinned wider. “I’ll buy us all one!”
KC shook his head. “Sorry, baby, but I have my food for the day.” He held up his fresh protein smoothie, and I eyed it with distaste. As soon as he’d finished his breakfast one, he’d made a new batch from stuff I had sitting around in my kitchen and an “emergency” bag of protein powder he’d had stashed in his Jeep like drugs. I wasn’t impressed.
“Are you sure it’s healthy to knock out real food for those drinks?” I dragged him closer, ignoring the ache of concern that swelled in my stomach.
“Of course.” He shrugged. “I need to get bigger. Our quarterback is giving me shit. I mean, he’s an asshole anyway, but I have to protect our team, you know? So, I need to pack on the bulk. It’s part of the game.”
“You can do that in other ways.” I listed them off with my fingers. “Chicken breast, eggs, fish, lean beef, or there are vegan high-intensity athletes who eatrealfood?—”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” He chuckled and leaned his head against my shoulder. “But notbear claws. They’re all sugar. I’ll eat something later. For now, this smoothie works.”
“Hmm.” I didn’t believe him, but I didn’t call him out on it, either. Instead, I nodded at the stall. “I’ll have one, Kitten.”
Oliver went to walk toward the stall, but I reached out to stop him before he could.
“Actually, two.”
He went to move again, but I didn’t release my hold.
“Wait—three!” I let him go and pulled out my wallet. I dragged out my credit card and passed it to him. “It’s on me. Get as many as you want.”
Oliver laughed and his entire face lit up. “You’re such an asshole.” He slapped my arm but took the card anyway, the flush returning to his cheeks. He practically ran to the end of the line.
“He’s warming up to you.” KC brushed a kiss over the pulse point in my neck, and I shuddered as a wave of pleasure swept through me. He hummed, then moved my necklace to the side and did it again. Apparently, he enjoyed torturing me. There was no way in hell I could get hard in a fucking market with families everywhere.
“What can I say? I have an awesome personality.”
He barked out a laugh. “If you say so.”
Once Oliver grabbed the bear claws, he came back with an extra bounce in his step. He passed one to me immediately, and we both took a bite of the dough at the same time. The satisfaction of a well-made treat hit me. It’d been a while since I’d had a pastry, and the claw gave me exactly what I needed.
“The best, right?” Oliver’s grin was all knowing and smug. What a brat.
“I don’t know, let me try yours.” I grabbed his wrist and dragged his bear claw to me, taking a shark bite out of it and chewing.
“Hey! You have your own.” Oliver laughed anyway, and KC joined him, taking a sip of his smoothie.
“You two are incorrigible,” KC said.
“Oh, look at that big word from the football jock,” I teased, and Oliver’s laughter grew.
“Just because I play football doesn’t mean I’m dumb.” KC’s tone was light. He poked Oliver in the ribs, and Oliver wiggled away from him with a feral smile.
“Okay, let’s go a’walkin’, boys.” I slipped my hand in KC’s, and he nudged my shoulder with his. He tilted his head to Oliver, and Oliver cuddled up on his other side. They couldn’t hold hands because KC had his smoothie, but I was nice enough that I would share KC’s hand every so often.
We moved slowly, perusing the stalls with interest. When I finished my bear claw, I seized Oliver’s hand and ignored the shocked glance he gave me. We got some looks because I was holding both KC’s and Oliver’s hands, but nobody said anything.
“All right?” I asked Oliver to make sure he wasn’t uncomfortable.
