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She hiccups, and my eyebrows bounce up to my hairline.
Porter and Tate got them drunk?
“I’m gonna skin a Nickel or two,” Hale states flatly.
“I’ll get in on that action,” I tell him as Piper slips and stumbles into me.
I catch her, putting my arms around her waist to steady her.
“Remember what they said to tell them?” Reese asks, glancing over as Piper nuzzles her head against my chest.
My body doesn’t seem to realize she’s drunk and vulnerable, because things stand at attention that shouldn’t be standing at attention right now.
Reese starts laughing for no reason at all, and Piper suddenly starts laughing as well, as she struggles to stay upright in my arms.
“They won the drinking contest, but we won the stripping contest!” Piper proudly shouts, pumping her fist in the air.
My eyes widen, and I dart a look around, ready to murder some Nickels.
“Whoo!” Reese shouts as she fist-pumps the air as well.
“I’m going to fucking kill them,” I state very seriously.
“Don’t!” Piper and Reese both shout, and then they point at each other and simultaneously yell, “Jinx!”
They burst out laughing as though that’s the funniest shit in the world, and I groan as I bend to scoop Piper’s drunk ass up in my arms.
“We didn’t really strip,” Reese says through her cackles as Hale lifts her and starts carrying her as well. “We’ve got knights, Piper!”
“You didn’t really strip?” I ask, needing this to be resolved very quickly so I can decide if I’m going to simply punch someone or gouge out some eyeballs.
“No,” Piper says through her laughter. “They just wanted us to tell you that we did. They thought it’d be funny. You should see your face,” she adds, poking my cheek with her finger. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
“How much moonshine did you drink?” I ask, glancing down as she beams up at me with a red nose and red cheeks.
“This much,” she says as she pinches her fingers together, bites down on her tongue, and narrows her eyes as she examines the miniscule amount she’s demonstrating.
“It was more like this much,” Reese argues, holding her hands up and very far apart to demonstrate a much larger quantity.
“Feel like paying a trip out to the squirrelly side of the lake tomorrow morning?” Hale asks, though most of his attention is on Reese.
“I’ll meet you at the bridge,” I tell him in agreement.
“You’re still going to kill them?” Piper asks on a gasp as she clutches my shirt in a panic. “Don’t kill people over moonshine, Kai! That’s excessive!”
“Fuck me running,” I say on a long exhale, shaking my head.
Both girls break out into a fit of giggles.
“She said killing them is excessive,” Reese says through her guffaws.
“It is!” Piper crows very loudly.
I carefully sit her up in my chair, and I wrap a blanket around her, as I glance over at the coffee stand.
“You go get them something to eat. I’ll grab them some coffee,” I tell Hale as he gets Reese situated next to Piper.
We both take off to handle our tasks, and I keep checking behind me, wishing the crowd would thin so I could see her from here. Ma is surely watching after them by now.
Or Krysta. Krysta is good with drunk chicks.
Fucking Porter and Tate.
Just as I finally make it to the front of the line and get my two coffees, I hear, “Testing. Testing. One, two, three. Testing. Is this thing on? Can you hear us? Are we allowed to sing karaoke right now?”
My head snaps around, and I almost trip over my own feet as my eyes widen on the stage.
Piper is tapping a microphone, and Reese is snorting while holding her hand over her mouth. Everyone is staring directly at them. Son. Of. A. Bitch.
“Uh-oh,” Hale says from beside me with two burgers in his hands.
The girls put their fingers together and start making pinching motions, as they begin singing into the microphone.
“Baby shark, doo doo, doo doo, doo doo. Baby shark doo doo, doo doo, doo doo.”
“What am I watching?” I ask Hale as they giggle, sing, and giggle some more.
“Two drunk chicks who think they’re still doing karaoke…is my best guess,” he deadpans.
“Momma shark…”
Slowly, as if some people know this ridiculous fucking song, they start singing along with them, making different pinching motions right along with them.
“What am I watching?” I ask again.
“A drunk crowd who thinks this is a sing-along…is my best guess,” he answers with zero emotion.
Suddenly, he starts singing along too as he dances his way toward the stage, weaving through the crowd that is getting rowdier and rowdier as they sing along.
Great. Now all of Tomahawk is going to love her. I was doing good to scare every motherfucker off.
Even though I’m trying to keep things casual and less intense, I still don’t want to share her with the whole damn town full of dicks who are just waiting on me to crash and burn so I’ll get out of the way. If this town even thinks I’ve given up on her, she’ll have a thousand fucking more desserts showing up at her door.
