Make Me Your Villain (Battle Crows MC 2)

That was true.

I shouldn’t care.

I was mad at her, and truth be told, I didn’t much like her, or feel like I was missing all that much.

But still, it was the principle of the matter.

I wasn’t the one to do anything wrong here.

I hadn’t been the one to sleep with my sister’s boyfriend.

I’d been the victim here.

“Because this is supposed to be my sister,” I finally answered. “She’s supposed to have my back, no matter what, and I’m just now realizing how un-sisterly she is.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Callum moved.

He’d been putting on his socks and shoes, but instead of finishing slipping his left foot into his boot, he instead was pulling me across the couch, dislodging the computer from my lap, until I was all but in his arms.

“Your sister isn’t your sister, baby,” he said resolutely, eyes on me. “If she was, she wouldn’t have done that. I don’t know who that girl is, but I can tell you this. Real sisters don’t pull the kind of crap that your sister did. They don’t go out to eat with their whole family and not stop the entire procession until everyone is there. Or, at the least, check in to see if you’re actually coming when they know that it’s your favorite place to eat at. Nor do they talk shit about said sister when she has some guy come into her life. One that, I’ve been told, is hot as fuck.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling sadly at him.

“Your family is fuckin’ weird,” he pointed out. “Something is wrong there, and I don’t know what. I know that if you had talked to my mother and father like I spoke to yours that day, I wouldn’t have ever heard the end of it. You haven’t heard shit, have you?”

He was right.

My parents hadn’t called me at all.

They’d actually texted me to tell me to come by myself this week for dinner, and that we were going to Abby’s favorite restaurant this week, instead of mine.

As if it’d been my choice to go to my favorite restaurant last week when I wasn’t even there.

The assholes.

“Repeat after me, woman,” he urged. “I’m allowed to do what’s best for me, even if it hurts other people.”

An emotion I hadn’t ever felt welled up in my chest. “Callum…”

“Repeat it,” he pushed.

I looked down at my hands, then gave him my words. “I’m allowed to do what’s best for me, even if it hurts other people.”

He squashed my lips together with two hands before saying, “Good girl.”

I rolled my eyes, causing him to grin.

“Do you want me to do anything?” he asked, looking like he wanted to laugh.

This conversation was amusing for him, yet it wasn’t for me.

“Yes,” I replied seriously. “I want you to go over to her house and leave her a note that says ‘no, you’re a cunt.’”

“I’ll do my best to get that done after work,” he teased. “But sadly, I have to actually go to work to do that. I’ve been neglecting my duties as of late. All because of a cute little blonde with perfect legs and an attitude that needs spanked out of her.”

I was laughing as he kissed me.

And I had a smile on my face as he walked out the door in dirty, grass-stained boots. Jeans that looked like they’d been worn out for one wash too long and needed to be thrown away, and a black t-shirt that said ‘Crow Lawn Services’ on it.

• • •

To make myself happy, I went to Target.

I was just getting out of my car when a familiar body zoomed past the parking lot on a mower.

That familiar body, that had left fully clothed this morning, was no longer fully clothed.

He now had his t-shirt wrapped around his head like a turban, and a rag dangling out of the back of his pants.

I stopped to admire the view for a few minutes before movement to my left caught my eye.

I couldn’t stop the laughter that came out of me at seeing the women all standing outside their cars, watching the show.

Rolling my eyes, instead of going into Target, I went across the street to Cowboy Chicken and ordered a large ice water, as well as a large sweet tea. I then got an extra-large cookie because it looked wonderful, and I was still pissed off. And chocolate always solved everything, in my opinion.

Then, thinking better of it, I went back and got one more cookie. Because despite how he looked, Callum liked his sweets, and there was no way I was getting away with getting him just one. Otherwise, he’d just ask to eat some of mine. And they looked so good, I knew without a doubt I wouldn’t want to share.

Hands full of drinks and cookies, I walked across the parking lot and stopped at the curb with my wares.