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“Meyah has a boyfriend, so that’s oka—” I put my hand over her mouth and pulled her with me toward our rooms. Huntsman had us a room made up with two beds right next door to his. It was kind of sweet in his kind of way.
The instant Huntsman and Ripley heard boyfriends, their eyes lit up and they followed.
“Boyfriend?” Ripley challenged.
I stopped and huffed out an annoyed breath, Dakota smiling up at me, but in a way that screamed ‘oops, my bad.’ “Look. I don’t need either of your permission to have someone who is important to me. We aren’t talking about it. Yes, I have a man. Yes, I love him. Yes, we’ve been together for a while. And yes, he’s worthy. Done.”
“Not done,” Huntsman argued, but I held up my hand.
“Yes, done. I appreciate the worry, or just the protectiveness, but trust me when I say he will pass every damn test you try to set him, and you will not break him.”
I could see the fierce way they both wanted to challenge me, but also the curiosity that was in their eyes.
The fact was, Ham had proven himself and his loyalty. It just wasn’t to this club, which I knew was going to be a problem later, but which didn’t impact on me getting to know this part of me. Not yet.
This was my time to catch up on years that had been stolen from me.
And I was going to make them count.
“And how exactly did you think you were going to get into any fucking place in Vegas without being twenty-one or at least having a fucking fake ID?” Ripley asked as he pulled open the door to the burger joint we’d found downtown.
I stepped past him, rolling my eyes. “Beauty and charm?” I suggested.
“And where might you have those things stashed? They hiding in your handbag?”
I held up my middle finger as I continued to walk toward a booth in the corner, Dakota giggling softly behind me.
We hadn’t really thought about going out, to be honest. I figured if we were going to drink, we’d probably just do it at the clubhouse, but when Dakota suggested going out, I couldn’t say no after the few trips we’d done down the strip during the day—the atmosphere was too electric to turn down.
“They look about our age,” Dakota said, pointing to a group of girls across the other side of the diner as I slipped into the booth. A few of the girls appeared as if they had already had one drink too many. “I’m gonna go over there and ask if they know of any places we might be able to get in.”
Ripley slipped in the other side, while the boys that were with us followed Dakota to the table of drunk girls.
A waitress popped up and took our order before zipping away again, looking a little disheveled.
“Where’d you learn to shoot?” I looked up, finding Ripley staring at me intently. We still weren’t on great terms, but I guess I was starting to learn why he was the way he was.
With a mom who didn’t show a lot of interest and died early on, and a dad who obviously cared but didn’t really like to show it—it wasn’t really surprising he was harsh and moody.
“My uncle’s ol—” I paused, reminding myself they didn’t know I came from a club background, so I cleared my throat instead. “My uncle’s wife, well… before she was my aunt. She worked with law enforcement for a while. I came home one day upset about a boy at school, she thought it might help me feel a little more empowered, and I really liked it.”
“You’re really good,” he praised, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Thanks.”
His fingers tapped on the table. I could tell he wanted to say something, but I wasn’t sure why he was holding back. The impression I’d gotten from Ripley so far was that he didn’t hold his punches when it came to sharing what was on his mind.
“Is this weird for you?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence, trying to prompt him to talk to me. I wanted to get to know him. I’d never had a big brother before. It was new to me but also kind of exciting.
I had all these uncles back home who would do anything for me, but it had only been in the last year or so that I’d finally had them in my life. I couldn’t help but wonder what things would have been like if they’d been different.
What if I’d had Ripley around growing up? Would he have beaten up the boys at school who looked at me funny? Or driven me crazy by hooking up with my friends? I wanted to know what kind of brother he was.
This was new to both of us, and I wondered if he was thinking the same.
“Weird? Maybe… a little. I dunno,” he grumbled, leaning his head back on the tacky red leather seat. Taking a breath, he leveled his gaze on me again. This time I saw a vulnerability, something more open. “I’m confused, I guess. I don’t like to think about my dad cheating on my mom, which even in my head sounds fucking stupid because I don’t remember her ever doing anything that showed me she loved me.”
“She was still your mom,” I commented quietly, understanding how he could be torn. “Do you think he could have done more to fight for her?”
