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Done with the insanity, I stepped away from the group and followed the signs to the reception area of the hotel to find shit out for myself.
“Can I help you, sir?” a young redheaded woman asked from behind the desk.
“Is the bar open for guests who aren’t a part of the high school reunion?”
She shook her head. “The bar, restaurant, and patio are closed this evening for the event.”
I ran a hand through my hair.Of-fucking-course they are.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, that was it. Thank you.” I turned around to head back to the guys, but I paused when I realized they were no longer standing in the same spot.
Though, it didn’t take long for me to see Thatch’s big-ass body waving me over from the opposite end of the room.
On a sigh, I headed in his direction, and once I reached the group, I noted that every one of the fuckers had those stupid “My Name is…” name tags on.
But only, they were other people’s names.
Thatch’s readDirk Michaels.
“What the fuck is this?” I questioned just as Thatch slapped a name tag onto my chest.
“Tonight, you’re Kurt Owens, and you’re here to enjoy your twenty-year high school reunion.”
I looked back up and met Kline’s eyes. “Are you seriously going along with this shit?”
He shrugged. “I’m thirsty. And the quicker we give in, the faster it’ll be over.”
“So, what? We’re just stealing people’s name tags? For their fucking high school reunion?”
“These were in the no-show pile,” Jude explained. “We’re just doing them a service by enjoying their high school reunion—andthe free drinks it provides—for them.”
Not even one of us needed free drinks, and the irony of that fact wasn’t lost on me.
“You guys realize this is completely fucked, right?” I retorted, and Thatch slapped an arm across my shoulders.
“This is going to be fun, Wesley.”
“Fun? I didn’t even want to attend my own high school reunion, much less someone else’s.”
“Well, Kurt Owens, it’s safe to say that you get a do-over tonight.”
Fucking hell.
To my utter shock, Kline, Flynn, and Remy were the first to peel away, walking through the doors to the ballroom without looking back, and the fucking clowns, Thatch and Jude, weren’t far behind.
“C’mon, Kurt,” Ty said through a laugh. “Let’s grab a beer and let everyone in the reunion know that Dirk Michaels has been battling syphilis for the past five years.”
I smirked at that. “All right, now that is actually something I can get behind.”
“Honeys, we’re home!” Thatch bellowed as he stepped in through the front door. His loud-as-hell voice bounced off the walls, and Cassie’s face morphed from relaxed to pissed off in one second flat.
“I swear to fluffing everything, T-bag,” she whisper-yelled toward the entry hallway. “If you wake up the kids, I’ll cut your dick right off.”
Normally, she was too extreme, but in this instance, I couldn’t say I didn’t agree with her. Plus, with as many threats as she tossed toward his manhood—and as many times as I’d been around to hear it—I knew that she’d never actually do it. Sure, she’d smack him in the dick. Maybe even punch him, but she’d never actually castrate him.
Thatch’s hearty chuckle, along with additional footsteps, followed.
