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“Jesus fuck, Roan,” I snorted. He followed me out the door.
“Spicy fucking taquitos!” he exclaimed over my door as he slammed it.
“Okay, Roan.”
“With the little green peppers inside. You know what I mean? You know the little green peppers, Killian? What’re the little green peppers called?”
“Jalapeños?” I laughed. This fucking man.
“Yes! Those! I fucking love jalapeños!” he damn near shouted. Slinging an arm around his shoulder, I kept him close as he bumped into a wall. The fucking moron was going to hurt himself.
“Let’s go, dumbass,” I said. “I have a surprise for you, and then I’ll find you some fucking taquitos.”
Chapter 07
Killian
Declan’s bigass truck stuck out like a sore thumb in front of the clubhouse but not a damn person cared. They were too enamored by the puppy hanging out the window with her pretty little grin and flannel bandana. That dog was about to be the most spoiled creature in the clubhouse.
Roan, however, completely missed Holly’s entire existence because the minute Declan stepped out of the truck, he lost his shit. Dramatically,
“Mav! Mav!” Roan hollered through the front door while he clung to my arm. “Mav! Come take my beer! Take my fucking beer!”
“Jesus fucking Christ, what’re you going on about?” Maverick shouted back, joining us outside. I cringed because neither of their drunk asses needed to be yelling behind me.
“Take my fucking beer!” he repeated. “I’m hallucinating! It’s not even the good shit! It’s Declan! Declan on vacation is my drunken hallucination! Truck and all!”
“Fuck you, Roan,” Declan said, stopping by the front of his truck. His hands fell to his hips as he grinned. Vacation looked fucking good on him. The Declan I grew up with and knew didn’t know the meaning of laid back or letting go. He was all business. Sure, he knew how to have fun occasionally, but it wasn’t often.
This Declan was a fucking trip in a backwards hat with tufts of dark hair sticking out, aviators, a t-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants. Shit, he even had sandals on. Whatever the hell Raven was doing for him, she was doing a damn good job. He looked good—relaxed. He looked fucking happy.
“Oh, God! He speaks!” Roan slammed a hand to his chest. The fucking theatrics. “Take my beer—”
“Gladly,” Maverick interrupted and took the fuller of the two bottles Roan had.
“Hey, that’s my fucking beer.”
“Not anymore.” He downed several swigs.
“You fucking animal.” Roan scowled.
“They started early, didn’t they?” Declan asked me.
“You have no fucking clue,” I replied dryly. “I think he was off his bike all of ten fucking seconds before he had a beer in his hand.”
“Let the Fall Games begin.” Really, at this point, the phrase more or less meant, let the fucking chaos ensue. We’d actually have our stupid wolf games, but we were all here to fuck around for two weeks straight. It was good for pack morale, but it was also good for the leaders to show alliance by opening the pack houses. The only reason we never went to the Baker’s pack house was because the one time we did, John Baker put our asses to work on his ranch. What should’ve been four days of shenanigans turned into four days of working our asses off.
Though, there was a fucking fantastic story about Sam getting roped into helping with the bull semen collection that we’d never let him live down. There were pictures, and it was the first time I’d ever seen Declan laugh so hard he fucking cried.
“Where’s everyone else?” I shoved my hands in my pockets as Roan and Maverick disappeared inside to continue their drinking shenanigans. We were boring as fuck with our normal conversations.
“They took some detours,” he replied. The horn on his truck blared as he locked it, even with his fiancé still inside. Okay then. “Something about tourist attractions. I had a route, so I stuck to it.”
I smiled. That sounded a lot more like Declan. Behind him in the truck, Raven reached for the door, but the horn beeped as Declan locked it again. A slow grin turned his lips when he turned toward the truck where Raven flipped him off, even as she laughed.
“What’re you doing to her?”
“Ask me how many times she’s rolled her damn ankle hopping out of the truck.”
