“Oh, my gosh, Tate. That’s way too much.” I try to hand it back, but he doesn’t accept it.
“Like hell it is.” Hetch steps in beside me and takes the fifty from me. “I’ll make sure it goes in the kitty,” he tells Tate with a nod, before handing me the bucket I asked for.
“No, Hetch. Seriously, it’s way too much.” It’s the second time I’ve seen one of his guys pay too much. Earlier, Fox paid a hundred for Mitch and Sue’s detail on his truck.
“It’s fine, Lib. The boys and I want to help. Let us.” He doesn’t give me another chance to argue it further when he calls out and motions for the next car to pull in.
“Come on, we’ve still got about six more cars to do before you clock off.” He throws a wet rag at my face then side steps me when I throw it back.
“You so did not just do that,” I call out, picking up the hose from the ground and turning it on him.
“You’re going to pay for that, Liberty,” he shouts when I manage to drench him. I quickly take off between two cars. The kids are all laughing, and the volunteers are egging us on.
“Don’t you dare.” I slow my pace and slip in behind the last car in the line where Sterling, Payton, and Garrett are working together. “We don’t have time to play games,” I call out just as I see Hetch filling a bucket of water.
“You should have thought about that before you turned the hose on me.”
Oh, God, this is going to get messy.
“Please, don’t let him get me, guys,” I plead like a little girl to Sterling and Payton and, for a minute, I think they’re going to keep me safe. That is until Sterling drops the cloth he was using, grabs me around the waist, and carries me back toward Hetch.
“YOU TRAITOR!” I scream over the catcalls from Payton and the whoops from the boys.
“What do you think, kids, does Liberty need to cool down?” Hetch shouts so everyone can hear him.
“YES!”
“Do it!”
“Get her...!” are called out among them all, and I have to say even though I know I’m about to get it, I can’t help but smile at how much they’re all having fun.
“I thought you all loved me, boys!” I cry out when Sterling plants me on my feet in front of Hetch.
“Sorry, sweetheart. The tribe has spoken.” Hetch smirks, and it’s sexy, but I don’t stick around to see it, darting between him and the bucket. I don’t get very far, the smaller hand of Mitch, reaching for my shirt, has me halting.
“I’ve got her, Hetch. Do it,” he calls, and I chuckle at how eager he is to see me pay. Ever since Hetch brought Mitch home last week, he’s been in a perpetual mood. He’s been taken off the program. House bound for two weeks, and his chore roster has grown until he earns his privileges back. It may seem harsh, but sometimes, tough love is what they need.
“How could you, Mitch?” I fake my shock, knowing I would probably do the same if I were him.
“Sorry, us boys have to stick together,” he tells me, as a bucket of water is dumped over my head.
“Ahh!” I yelp as the cold water drenches me through and through.
The kids holler and yell, finally getting what they wanted.
“Okay, you got me, show’s over,” I try to move this along, knowing if we don’t get a handle on it now, we may lose them to a twenty-person water fight. “Lunch is in an hour, and if we get it done, pizza is on Hetch,” I lie, knowing I’ve already placed the order and paid.
“Thanks, Hetch, you’re the best!”
“Yeah, pizza!” A couple of the boys high five Hetch as we turn and start walking back to the car we are meant to be working on.
“Sorry about getting you all wet, sweetheart.” The soft whisper of Hetch’s voice tracks over my skin and a shiver follows its same path.
“Oh, you will be sorry, later.”
“Oh, yeah? Is that a threat or a promise?” He walks alongside me, voice low and unsuspecting.
“A promise.” I wink, picking up the cloth that started the whole water fight.
“Shit, babe. I need to go work on another car. I can’t deal.” He groans under his breath while he looks down at my chest.
“Get out of here.” I roll my eyes when I notice there’s nothing revealing or sexual about what I’m wearing, even if it’s wet. I made sure I wore all black today, and nothing would become see-through.
“I’m not kidding. Here. Put this on.” He rips his damp shirt over his head and hands it to me.”
“Umm, no. Put your shirt back on, you crazy man.” I push the shirt back into his chest.
Seriously, is he trying to kill me here?
“I have another in my truck,” he argues, offering it to me again.
“Okay, fine. But seriously go and put it on then, or I won’t be able to work on this car with you.”
His grin deepens at my confession, his pecs dancing in a taunt.
“What’s the matter, Lib. Can’t concentrate?” He mocks me, before sauntering off to his truck. I force my eyes not to follow; instead, I turn and use the side mirror to track his movements.