Page 42 of Never Dance with the Devils
“Taking care of everyone, yourself included, shows how amazing you are,” Riggs praises, tilting her chin up to bring her eyes to his. “It’s your turn. Not in the way Kyle said, like you have some penance to pay, but your turn to let us do for you what you’ve done for them.”
Her nose crinkles as though that sounds awful. It’s honestly adorable, though I would never tell her that.Mostly because I think she’d recoil at anything about her being described as something so ridiculous as ‘adorable’.
“Let us take care of you,” I say, piling on to Riggs’s strategy.
“That makes me sound weak.”
Riggs and I both chuckle immediately. The idea of Kayla being even the slightest bit weak is preposterous. “You are a force to be reckoned with, woman. What you just did with your brother? Badass. But being tough doesn’t mean you don’t deserve—” Riggs cuts off suddenly, and only because I know him so well do I know that he was about to say love but caught himself. Thank fuck. Even if he’s thinking it, it’s way too soon to throw that word out, especially for Kayla, who I think would outright panic. “Care,” he finally says, his voice rough and low.
“Still don’t like it,” she says, glaring at him from beneath an arched brow and not budging in her self-assessment.
Trying another angle, I ask, “Did you think your brothers were weak when you had to step in to help them?”
“I thought they were dumbasses, usually. But I wouldn’t exactly say weak.”
“Well, there you go,” I conclude cheerfully. “Strong people need care too.”
Her eyes ping-pong from me to Riggs and back as she mulls over our presentation. It might not have included anything fancy like PowerPoint slides or animation, but I think it’s pretty solid. She takes a deep breath, her spine straightening and her fierceness reappearing. “Okay.”
I’m smiling at the victory even though I don’t have afucking clue what she’s actually agreeing to. “So, we’re going to dinner?” I ask hesitantly.
“Oh, God no!” she exclaims, looking horrified. “I only let Kyle think that because it was easier than arguing with him. Plus, he’ll show up to dinner thinking he’s gotten one over on me, but no one outmaneuvers me.” She beams with pride at that. “Besides, I wouldn’t do that to you. I appreciate your being willing to face the wolves with me, but there is no way we are going to that dinner.” She shakes her head vehemently.
“You sure?” Riggs asks. “If there’s more than two forks, I’ll make a complete ass of myself, but for you, I’ll go.” I’ve seen him at team dinners, and he’s not exaggerating. Fancy-schmancy, multi-course meals with a lineup of silverware are not his forte. Give Riggs a buffet and beer bar any time.
“I could teach him how to fork before Friday,” I offer, though that’s probably not as reassuring as I’d like it to be.
“Let me think about it,” Kayla says.
But I’m pretty sure she’s already made her decision. And while I should feel relieved, I feel… disappointed?
KAYLA
Iknew I wasn’t going to get away with delaying the inevitable until this weekend. The inevitable being the Harrington Inquisition, trademark pending. My brothers have never pulled the ‘protect our sister’ shit on me, mostly because I’d destroy them for even attempting it, but I’m not at all surprised when my doorbell rings Thursday night, ending the reprieve I milked for each and every moment I could.
I’ve played out this conversation from every angle. I’ve strategized how to deal with each of my brothers’ reactions, knowing they’ll be as varied as they are. And I’ve analyzed every potential outcome, from acceptance to full-blown excommunication, which might be melodramatic, but I prefer to have every scenario accounted for. Overly prepared is the smack-dab middle of my comfort zone. And now, it’s showtime. Or time to pay the piper in my case, because one thing Kyle was correct about is that I have played mastermind for my brothers countless times before, and now they’re going to try to do the same thing to me.
Trybeing the operative word.
“Took you long enough. It’s been nearly thirty-six hours since Kyle sent that picture,” I tell them as I open the door, sounding bored by the sudden and unscheduled appearance of my entire sibling group. They think it’s an ambush, but I’ve been waiting for them. To the point that there’s a freshly-arranged charcuterie board on the coffee table and I just pulled the cork on a bottle of white wine.
“Oooh! Cheese!” Luna whispers, rushing past me to beeline for the snacks.
“Had to get our plan of attack hammered out,” Cole informs me, his voice flat and face stony. He’s used to everyone being terrified of him and cowering away when he gives his trademark menacing, dead-eyed stare, but I’m not everyone and I don’t flinch in the slightest. I’ve always been able to feel his heart like it’s my own, so I never doubted that he was good, all the way down to his soul. I mean, I won’t argue that he’s a little out there, but aren’t we all, given the upbringing we had? Still, his stance is clear and he’s intentionally being intimidating with a goal of putting me off-kilter.
Too bad for him, my foundation is steady and I’m completely unbothered by his scare tactics. “Poor choice on your part because you gave me time to do the same,” I counter. “And we both know who’s the more formidable foe.” He frowns at the comparison between us.
Having set the tone with the first verbal jabs, I count the faces peering at me curiously as they file into my condo, finding my five brothers and almost all their partners. “Where’s Janey?” I ask Cole as he enters last.
“Home with Emmett, and hanging with Grace.Cameron didn’t want to bring her for this discussion,” he answers, sounding like he understands why Cameron would make that parental choice for his teenage daughter given their expected conversational topic. Emmett may only be a year old, but Cole has basically crowned himself the King of Parenthood, as though he’s the ultimate knowledge-bearer of right and wrong. To be honest, it’s usually endearing for the scariest of our brood to have such an unexpected protective, nurturing streak. Right now, however, I shoot him another empty glare.
“You could’ve,” I say blandly as everyone claims various seats around the living room. I choose a chair closest to the door, not as an escape route, but in preparation for kicking them out if needed. “Because there’s not going to be a discussion. None of you were invited into my dating life, much less my sex life.”
“See? Completely delusional,” Kyle says, managing to both grin and simultaneously pop a grape into his mouth. I send an extra glance at his boots, checking for dirt and thankfully seeing none. This intrusion is bad enough without the addition of the random mud, sweat, and dust that typically surround him. “She actually thinks we’re gonna leave this alone.”
He snorts in amusement, nearly choking on his grape, which serves him right as far as I’m concerned. A bit of karmic justice in my book for throwing kerosene on this whole dumpster fire of a situation.
It's his fault this is blowing up. I could be happily on my way to the guys’ house for dinner, a hot tub soak, and mind-blowing orgasms for all if it weren’t for Kyle. Instead, I’m sitting here with my brothers, most of whom look fresh from the office and constipated withwords they want to shit all over me, and my sisters-in-law, who seem various levels of curious, concerned, and maybe… congratulatory? And while I understand everyone’s interest, it’s none of their business. Not now, maybe not ever, depending on how things go.