I grit my teeth, fists clenched as I contemplate the cost-reward of knocking Drake out while he’s flying down the highway with the girl I care for most in the entire world sitting in the back. Fuck!
The soft sound of Trix’s laughter filters from the backseat. “You’re so right, Drake. Mason’s paying me for full service all weekend long.” She pushes up to place her face right between Drake and me. “You should’ve seen the expression on the stewardess’s face when I sucked your brother off under a blanket on the plane.” She licks her lips and moans and Drake shifts in his seat. She leans in closer to him. “Your brother’s a big boy, and I mean big in every way. I have bruises all over my ass after we fucked like monkeys in the airplane bathroom.”
Damn, she’s good at this seduction shit. Drake’s practically drooling, and I’m doing everything to keep my dick from responding to her tease.
“You lucky son of a bitch!”
I turn and grip my fingers into Trix’s hair, pulling her to me for a hard kiss while she giggles against my lips.
She flicks Drake’s ear. “Sucka.”
“Wait, so you’re kidding . . . or . . . ?”
I punch him in the shoulder, eliciting a bitch-ass squeal from his wanna-be gangster lips. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“Fuck, man.” He rubs his arm. “Fine. Shit.”
I shake my head and consider a rental car or even a few hundred dollars to get a cab to take us back to the airport at the end of the weekend.
“Trix, baby, your dad’s birthday is Sunday afternoon, right?”
“Yeah. It’s at one, so we can hang for a few hours, and then Isaac will take us to the airport. You’re still going to come, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, but I was thinking . . . You wanna bring the kids to Cowell tomorrow? Figure we could give your mom and dad a break from the kids, hang out at the beach all day, maybe a bonfire that night?”
“Really?” The high-pitched sound of excitement from her lips makes my chest pound. “That would be awesome!”
“Great, let’s do it. We’ll figure out all the details tonight after you settle in.”
“The kids are going to shit, they’ll be so excited,” she mumbles to herself.
Drake laughs, low and shitty sounding. What the hell is his problem? “Look at you getting all domesticated.” He shoves me. “No more back in town for hanging with your boys and fucking bitches, huh?”
What the fuck? I’ve come back in town and hung at the bars with The Brotherhood, but fucking bitches? That’s never been me. Not that the occasional one-nighter didn’t sneak up on me, but it was rare. “Are you high?”
He ignores me, and I make a mental note to talk to Trix about this later. I know she wouldn’t care even if what Drake said was the truth—after all, she’s been honest about her past conquests—but I need her to know that it’s bullshit.
The rolling hills of San Jose fade into the distance as we approach the Santa Cruz Mountains with their towering redwoods and evergreens. With a few more instructions and forty minutes later, we pull up to an older homestead-style house in a remote area of Los Gatos. The home is tucked deep into the woods on a dirt road. Even though only a few miles from multi-million dollar homes, new developments, and middle class homes, it’s so hidden in the trees I wonder if the city even knows they’re still here.
“Is this it?” Drake says with a hint of disgust in his voice.
“Yep. Home sweet home.”
The second the last word is out of her mouth, the front door flies open, and kids pour out of the tiny home like circus clowns. Trix squeals with excitement and barrels out of the backseat. She runs, kicking up dirt with her flip-flops, and catches the fastest of her brothers and sisters as a little boy leaps into her arms.
“Dude, what the fuck . . .?” Drake whispers and I know he’s confused about the myriad of ethnicities and ages of all the children now piled around Trix.
“Big family. Stay in here.” I push out of the car just as an older man steps out of the door.
He’s bigger than I expected, full beard and overgrown hair, but dressed well in a long-sleeved collared shirt tucked into jeans. That must be Pastor Langley, Trix’s Dad. A small, thin woman with short dark hair pushes past the man and races toward the kids’ squealing, and it doesn’t take a genius to realize it’s Trix’s Mom.
I’m transfixed on this family reunion. Hell, I don’t even remember the last time I hugged my mom. Trix closes her eyes as her mom kisses every inch of her face. It isn’t until I feel the prickle of being watched that I peek up to find a set of dark brown eyes on me.
Trix’s dad looks curious as he moves off the front porch towards his family. His daughter breaks away from her siblings and meets her dad with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. They say a few words to each other then look in my direction. I take my cue and head over to introduce myself.