I don't exactly think antagonizing a guy with a gun pointed at your chest is the best idea in the world, but … it's kind of hot to see Zayden standing up for himself. I dig my phone out of my back pocket and start up a live video feed, just in case.
“This guy's threatening to shoot us. I hope it's just a joke,” I say as I point the camera at the bearded guy in the Go Fuck Yourself t-shirt. “I'm trying to decide if I should call the cops or not. What do you think, Zay?”
“Naw. I think this asshole's going to go back inside and start looking for alternative housing. I don't think you've got much room to threaten my brother anymore. If you don't want us to show this video to the police, then you won't wait for him to evict you. Get the fuck out of my face.” Zay shoves the shotgun to the side and turns around without waiting for a response.
I keep the phone up as I take a few steps back and then follow Zay around the corner and down the short walkway to the front door. Shotgun Man never takes his focus off of Zayden, but before we can even get the front door unlocked, I feel the house shake with a slammed door from the opposite side.
“What did you do?” I whisper and Zayden shrugs, avoiding a really small, very badly burned paper bag on the porch. Really? People still burn shit bags as a prank? I guess Shotgun Man really was pissed.
“Every time Sadie cried, the asshole slammed his fist against the wall. I got sick of it, so I took my sister-in-law's clippers and cut down his crop. Every last plant. I have no clue what exactly that means for him because I don't smoke the shit, but”—Zayden shrugs as he unlocks the door and smiles at me—“it sure seemed to piss him off.”
“Depends on the strain. Might just decrease the yield; might change the high, make it less potent, more short-lived,” I say and then shrug back at him when he raises his eyebrows. “You didn't learn anything growing up around here? This is Pot Capital, USA.” Zayden grins at me and shoves the door open, holding his hand out to welcome me in.
“Well, look at you. So full of fun facts.” He reaches out and pokes me in the shoulder playfully. Too bad all that small touch does is reignite the wetness between my legs. I suck in a harsh breath. “Feel free to check the place out. I'll be right back. Gotta grab something from my piece of shit car.”
Zayden disappears as I look around at the tiny foyer and the walls covered in family photos. There's a set of stairs to my right and a small pathway to the living room on my left.
I move inside and scope the room out. It's small, but the wall is painted with a rich eggplant and the furniture, while small, is perfectly sized and carefully arranged to give the place the maximum amount of space. Somebody's hung a shelf behind the sofa and covered it in chihuahua statues. Makes me smile.
I spot a picture of Zayden and a redhead that must be his brother. He called him a lumberjack when he was talking about him, and I see that the description is dead on—right down to the flannel shirt he's wearing. Next to that, in a silly black and white frame with grinning pink skulls on it, there's a picture of two little boys that match up to the men next to them.
I pick up the frame in my hands and feel a warm smile chasing across my lips.
Zayden is so goddamn cute in this shot, wearing a little Mohawk and grinning big. He looks like he's maybe eight or nine in the picture, his hand wrapped around a plastic hammer while his brother clutches a yellow foam lightning bolt. They have the same mouth, same chin. Despite the difference in hair color, it's easy to tell they're related. No wonder I thought Zayden's nieces and nephews looked like they were his.
I have a weird idea that it'd be kind of fun to make babies with him. Someday, of course. Not now. Way, way, way later. I'm kind of thinking my first baby will be at thirty-five. And don't give me all the silly medical facts; science and medicine evolve everyday.
“I totally kicked his ass that day,” Zay says as I jump and almost drop the picture, setting it quickly back on the side table and shoving hair over my shoulder in a wave. Was I just fantasizing about making future babies with this guy? Like that would ever happen. Zayden's made it pretty clear that he's not interested in having a relationship; I think I've made the same clear. And I meant it. I did.
Don't get all virgin cliché and start falling for this guy, Brooke.
“Kicked his ass?” I ask as Zayden moves over to a closer door I hadn't noticed before and opens it to reveal a bathroom. “Were you guys sparring or something?”