I take a napkin and a flaky, hot biscuit. “You baked?”
She smiles wryly, and her grey eyes light up. “Made the dough before and froze it. Not much room for anything else.”
Killian’s hand reaches down between us, and he snatches two. “Best baker ever.” He gives Libby a quick kiss on her cheek. “Love you, Elly May.”
She rolls her eyes and sets the tray down for the guys. “I’m thinking you’re more loving my biscuits right now, lawn bum.”
“Never.”
They grin at each other, and I take a picture before sitting down. Killian is right; Libby is an excellent baker. And Libby is right; the food is devoured in a blink. I find a seat and simply watch the guys interact. There’s something comforting about witnessing old friends enjoy each other’s company.
But they don’t leave me out. Whip turns his attention to me soon enough. “So, Bren threw you right into the lion’s den, eh?”
“You guys seem pretty tame.”
He laughs, and I’m struck by the fact that he looks very much like Killian, only blue-eyed instead of dark. “Sadly, we are now.”
“You miss being wild?” I ask, taking a picture because he’s just too pretty lounging in a black leather armchair, his toned body doing nice things for the vintage Def Leppard concert tee he’s wearing.
“Naw,” he says. “I’m kind of liking this tamer phase. More productive, at the very least.”
“He’s just getting old,” Rye says, opening a small fridge and pulling out a few bottles of beer.
“You’re six months older than I am,” Whip points out.
“I age better.”
“Like moldy cheese,” Whip says.
Rye plops down next to me on the small banquet. “I’m surprised Scottie was cool with you sleeping on this bus.”
Killian passes me a beer. “Why wouldn’t he be? It’s her job to record us.”
“It’s cute that you described my job with finger quotes,” I tell him, rolling my eyes.
He grins with teeth, so fake, and I snap a pic before he can stop. At this he scowls, but it lacks any heat.
“Brat. I’m not saying I like my every move being chronicled—and post that goof one at your peril—but I’m admitting it’s a needed aspect of the tour, all right?”
I blink rapidly while clutching my chest. “Can’t. Respond. Shock. Too. Great.”
Libby laughs. “See? You’ll fit in just fine.”
“Thanks.” I click beer bottles with her.
“Still not getting why Scottie would complain about Sophie on the bus,” Killian says. “He was adamant that we treat her with…” His voice turns crisp and clipped, mimicking Gabriel’s accent to a tee. “…‘the bloody respect a trained professional deserves.’”
He said that? I become a little less ticked at him. Just a little.
Rye gives an expansive sigh. “Because dumbass Jax made it sound like he’d hooked up with her.”
Killian’s mouth falls open, and he stares at Jax as if he’s sprouted horns. “You told Scottie you slept with Sophie?” he all but squeaks, which is impressive given his naturally low voice.
“It was a joke,” Jax says from his sprawl across the couch. “Calm down.”
Killian shakes his head. “Oh, man. That’s nothing to joke about. You’re dead.”
“Scottie needs to lighten up. And you do too.”
“He has every right to kick your ass.” Killian wings a bottle cap at Jax. “You violated the first law of the man code, Mr. Dead Man Walking.”
Jax frowns. “No way.”
“Yeah, you did,” Whip adds with a laugh.
Even Rye shakes his head. “You didn’t know? Who put you up to even telling Scottie that story?”
Jax sits up straight. “Brenna brought it up to him!”
Rye makes a noise of horror. “That’s just mean. Even for Brenna.”
“Eh,” Jax says, rubbing the back of his head. “I think he was giving her shit for something.”
“Clearly the man was playing with fire,” Rye deadpans.
“Truth.”
“What the hell is the first law of the man code?” I cut in.
Killian takes a sip of his beer before answering. “Never encroach upon your buddy’s territory.”
“Territory,” I parrot. “You make us sound like dogs.”
“Soph,” Whip says solemnly, “when it comes to guys and sex, we’re all dogs.”
“True,” adds Rye.
“I’m not Gabriel’s territory for him to piss over.” Not that anyone seems to believe me.
Killian’s dark eyes fill with amusement. “You’re the only one he lets call him Gabriel.”
“Shit,” Jax says with a wince. “You’re right. I missed that.”
“You’re blind then.” Whip gives Jax’s flat belly a slap. “Dude, he saw her first. That’s like calling—“
“If you say ‘dibs’,” Libby cuts in, “I will gag.”
Killian laughs and slings an arm around her. “Aw, honey, no gagging without my helping.”
At this we all gag.
“But still,” Jax says when the guys settle down. “How was I supposed to know? We’re talking about Scottie, for fuck’s sake.”