Austin eased up behind her. “That’s the one thing I’m sure of, Ladybug.”
She bent over and reached for a wine cooler, tilting her ass just a little bit. Reno had to turn away because it was instinctual for males to become aroused when a female turned her back. The men in that house would cut off their right arm before making a move on a mated female in the pack, but Austin didn’t take kindly to a room full of erections, so they averted their eyes out of respect.
Austin gripped her hips and growled, leaning over to whisper in her ear.
Denver shoved a handful of chips into his mouth and folded the bag. “Well, I’m sick of that shit,” he said, pointing at the adorable couple. “Ain’t fair. I got needs.”
“You also got dirty socks all over the bathroom,” Lexi pointed out, turning around and nudging Austin away. “Women don’t want to be a maid and pick up after you.”
“Our mother did.”
“Women you sleep with.”
Denver’s mouth turned down and his brows arched. “Maybe I’ll find a girl who will want me for who I am.”
Jericho lifted his bottle in a toast. “That’s so precious I want to put it on a greeting card. Women look at a man like Lynn looks at this house: a fixer-upper.”
“That’s not true,” Lexi cut in. “I didn’t have to change Austin; he changed himself.”
A fierce smile slid up Austin’s face and he reached in his back pocket and removed his fringed gloves. When he winked at her with his ice-blue eyes, Lexi scowled at him.
“That’s it! I’m going to get the scissors and cut those fringes off.” She stormed out of the room and Austin put the second glove on his hand, swaggering toward the hall.
“Be back in two hours, boys. My girl loves it when I pull out the leathers. It gets her all fired up in the sack.”
“You see?” Denver said, throwing his head back. “That’s killing me. It was fine until she came into the house.”
Jericho tossed a dart at the board, hitting dead center. “Bitch all you want, man. We know you ain’t got game.”
Denver’s legs flailed as he struggled to get out of the beanbag chair his ass was adhered to. The bag of Cheetos spilled on the floor and his face bloomed red. “Why don’t you just shut it?”
“Why don’t we make it interesting with a friendly wager?” Ben suggested.
Reno turned his back, ignoring the ruckus.
Wheeler slid in the seat beside him at the bar, shoving a deck of cards away. “You okay?” He eyed the new scar on Reno’s left arm as he reached in a plastic bag on the bar and pulled out a flat stick of spicy beef jerky. Wheeler was the only one in the house who ate that stuff and he could eat bags of it at a time.
“Just a scratch,” Reno said dismissively, taking a swig of beer.
Wheeler and Ben were identical twins. They looked alike in almost every way: amber eyes with angled brows, a strong nose, and carved features. They had brown hair, but Ben kept his styled neater than Wheeler, who wore his short on the sides and long on top, combed upward and every which way. They were six feet tall, which was a smidge taller than Denver but shorter than the rest of the brothers. Their build was average, but Wheeler had a tougher stance. He had a no-nonsense mean streak and had quickly gained a reputation in the family as the black sheep. Ben, on the other hand, was easygoing and always enjoyed a game of cards. In fact, he had entered a number of card tournaments and played the circuit. Everyone got along with him better for the simple reason he was less trouble and joked around more.