Shane nodded. “If I had a brother, I’d have done the same damn thing.” Something flashed through his expression—something dark he quickly masked.
“You have any siblings?” she asked.
A storm moved in over his face, furrowing his brow and making the angles of his face severe and unforgiving. “No.”
It was the most loaded use of that two-letter word she’d possibly ever heard. But everything about his demeanor said, “Topic closed,” so she let it drop. “I’m going to take the dog out before we go upstairs,” she said, patting her hand against her jeans.
“We’re done anyway,” Nick said. They made their way into the stairwell, and Jeremy double-checked that the door to Hard Ink locked behind them.
Becca pushed out the far door and let her girl do her business. The guys stepped outside with them. “You can go up. We’ll be right there,” she said.
“Air feels good after being inside all day,” Jeremy said. Becca couldn’t have agreed more. A soft breeze shifted the cool night air around her. The soft caress on her arms was relaxing, like it was blowing the difficult parts of the day away, just right on off her body.
“What’s the dog’s name?” Shane asked after a minute.
Nick and Jeremy looked at her, then each other, and burst out laughing.
“What?” Shane asked. “What’s so funny?”
She just shook her head, glad to see them moving past the fight.
The guys apparently needed the release, because they quickly moved on from laughter to sputtering hysterics. Jer was actually crying. And every time Nick managed to get himself under control, he burst out again.
And man, that laughter was deep and throaty, so damn sexy. The dimple was carved a mile deep into his cheek, and laugh lines curved up from the corners of his eyes. She wanted to grasp his face in her hands and kiss him until he was panting and gasping for breath for an entirely different reason.
“Here’s what you need to know,” Becca said, distracting herself from the urge to jump Nick just as the dog returned. “Her name’s not Cujo, it’s not Killer, it’s not Tripod, or Three-Speed, Trinity, Skippy, Hoppy—”
“Sneezy, Dopey, Grumpy . . .” Jeremy managed, cracking himself up again.
“It’s also not Shiiiii-looooooooh,” Nick mocked.
Oh, my God, they were all the way over the deep side. Becca rolled her eyes and stepped back inside.
“Uh, okay,” Shane said as they started upstairs, the Rixeys having now devolved into teenaged giggles. Who knew two such big guys could make those high-pitched sounds? “What about Eileen?”
“What?” Becca said, frowning at Shane. “You’re just as bad as—”
The uproarious laughter from behind her made her turn around. Nick had taken a knee on the stairs, and Jeremy was hanging on the railing.
“Ei . . . Ei . . . Ei-leen,” Jeremy gasped. “Get it? Perfect.”
“No, not perfect. Her name is not Eileen.” Becca bit back a smile at their hysterics.
Nick heaved a deep breath and opened his mouth. Not to speak, but to sing. “Come on, Eileen. Oh, I swear what he means, at this mooo-ment, you mean eeeverything.”
Becca put her hand on her forehead and gaped. Nick Rixey was down on his knees singing an eighties anthem to her while laughing and holding his stomach. And it was the sexiest freaking thing she’d ever seen or heard. Even around the ridiculous hilarity, there was no question the boy could sing.
And then the other two idiots joined in.
Out of nowhere, a howling sounded. Becca looked around and found the dog sitting at the very top of the steps, head back, snout pointing to the ceiling, howling in long, loud ahwoooos like she was singing with them.
The door to the gym swung open. “What in the fucking hell?” Beckett asked, Easy and Marz coming out right behind him.
Shaking her head and succumbing to laughter herself, Becca started up the steps. “I broke them. Sorry.”
Beckett eyeballed her like she had three heads. Right. Because she was the crazy one in a roomful of men singing, “Toora, toora, to loora, ay,” at the top of their lungs.
“Hey,” Marz said, sinking into a crouch. “This is my kinda dog. What’s it’s na—”
“No, no, don’t say it!” she said.
Behind her, all three men said, “Eileen” in chorus.
“All right, Eileen.” Marz scooped her into his arms and stood up. She licked his cheek. “You and me are going to get along just fine.” He looked over his shoulder. “Now, come on in, assholes. I’ve got us a plan.” He disappeared inside.
Becca’s shoulders sagged. “Her name’s not Eileen,” she called, but she had a sneaking suspicion that none of them heard her as they all bustled into the gym in a rush.