King Me (Forever Wilde 7)

I glanced over at King, whose face had turned a mottled watermelon shade. “He is very good at what he does,” I confirmed with a grin.

King shot me a look that was half exasperation and half pleading. I winked at him. Whatever he’d told his family about what he did for a living was his business, not mine.

Doc turned to King. “MJ said you were thinking about moving back home. Is that true?”

King’s eyes flitted to me again before dropping to his water glass. The movement caused his hair to flop down over his eyes. “Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

I reached out to brush my hands through his hair again, if only to let me see his eyes more clearly. But as soon as my fingers reached his hair, I froze, realizing what I was doing in front of his grandfathers. I must have looked as caught out as I felt because all three of them laughed.

“It’s okay,” King said softly. “I mean, it is with me if it is with you.”

I leaned in and kissed his cheek, pausing there a few extra beats to inhale his scent and feel his skin against mine.

“I guess I can’t keep my hands off you,” I admitted.

King’s grandfathers’ eyes sparkled, and I could tell poor King was in for some major teasing later.

Doc put his arm around his husband. “It took a while before this one was comfortable with PDA. All those early years of being in the closet did a number on him.” He looked fondly at King’s grandpa. “But I’m the same as you. Can’t keep my hands off the man.”

“How long have you been together?” I asked.

“Forty-five years. But we’ve been best friends for over fifty,” the other Mr. Wilde said.

“They met in Vietnam,” King supplied. “Grandpa flew helicopters and Doc was a medic.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

After a quick break to order our lunch, the two men launched into some stories about raising kids together on the ranch. Those quickly segued into stories of a young King which made me laugh until I thought I was going to make a scene.

“I finally realized when he said ‘paint horse’ he meant actual paint,” King’s grandpa explained with tears of laughter sneaking out of his eyes. “I wandered into the barn and found my best filly covered in rainbow stripes for the town parade. And by the way, she wasn’t even a paint horse. She was an Appaloosa.”

King’s face was beet red, but he was laughing along with them. “Hey now, I credit myself with inadvertently starting Hobie’s first pride parade.”

“You were six years old,” Doc said. “I’m not sure you knew what pride was.”

“Maybe not,” King admitted, “but I had it nonetheless.”

“High achiever,” I added with a wink, squeezing him closer with the arm I had around the back of his chair.

Two women walked up, and I could tell right away which one was King’s sister by the suspicious look she was aiming at me.

“You must be MJ,” I said, standing to grab extra chairs for them.

“I am. And this is my partner, Neckie.”

King stood and helped me squeeze the six chairs around the small four-person table. “Guys, this is Dirk Falcon.”

“Sounds like a porn name,” MJ muttered.

“Hush,” Neckie warned. “Don’t be a bitch.” She turned to me. “I think it sounds more like a Tom Clancy hero myself. It’s nice to meet you, Dirk.”

“You too.” I waited for them to take their seats before sitting back down. “Did you see anything fun?”

“We went lingerie shopping,” Neckie admitted, blushing prettily. “MJ spoiled me.”

King groaned and buried his face in his hands. Their grandfathers just continued laughing. I might have mumbled something along the lines of “That’s nice.”

After a few minutes of small talk, MJ cut through the bullshit.

“Don’t fuck him over. You got me?”

I blinked at her.

King groaned again. “Jesus, Em. Cut it out. I can handle my own business.”

She cut her eyes at her brother. “It’s not your business I’m worried about.”

Neckie and the grandfathers sat back and looked at them with knowing smirks. No one intervened to help poor King.

“I don’t want him hurt,” I said. “In fact, I tried to convince him to be done. He should stay here and enjoy your visit.”

MJ looked at King in surprise. “Is that true?”

King glared at me before looking at his sister. “I can handle it. But we need to get going. Can you get Doc and Grandpa back to my place?”

“Of course I can.”

“We have GPS on our phones, and your apartment is like ten steps away,” Doc said.

“The last time you tried to use GPS, you ended up in Oklahoma,” MJ corrected.

Doc threw up his hands. “I was going to Oklahoma!”

“You were going to the stage production of Oklahoma! at a theater in Dallas,” MJ muttered. “But we’re not talking about you, we’re talking about King and his stupid inability to let things—”