Becoming A Vincent (The Wild Ones 1)

“What’re you doing?”

“Brushing my teeth and pulling my hair up,” I say as he turns away from me like he’s hiding something.

“I have to piss.”

Oh. Yeah.

I blush and dart out, and I run to another bathroom down the hall, wondering why I’m suddenly following him around.

I brush my teeth quickly, comb through my hair, then pull it up before jogging back out. Benson is walking down the stairs as I tug on my boots.

“You’re going like that?” he asks incredulously.

What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? He’s in his typical jeans and tee. I’m in pajamas. Who cares? It’s Tomahawk.

“But you’re not even wearing a bra. And those shorts…are you seriously not wearing any underwear?”

“Bugs, remember? I won’t ever wear them again until I get new ones. Those little beasts can hide anywhere.”

“Those shorts are really short—”

“Hurry! I have to see them swim the lake,” I tell him, tying the last shoe string on my boot.

“You remember that half the guys are not getting sex regularly, right?” he drawls as he follows me down the stairs to the dock.

“What does that have to do with my brothers swimming the lake?” I retort, staring at him like he’s lost his mind.

He stares back at me for a second like I’m an idiot, but I have no idea what I’m missing.

“Nothing,” he grumbles, finally helping me into his boat.

I’m practically bouncing with excitement as he unties us and starts the motor, getting us away from his dock before driving us toward my uncle’s.

I swivel in my seat to face him, noticing how tense he looks. “What’s wrong?” I ask, making my voice carry over the steady roar of the motor.

“I’m just curious what he’s going to do,” he says.

“Uncle Bill?”

He nods, but before I can ask more questions, we’re coasting up to the dock that is already teeming with other boats. It’s a massive dock, since my aunt hosts parties all the time.

I help Benson tie off, and he lifts me out of the boat until I can get my knees under me and stand. Then he hauls himself onto the high dock. His hand snakes around my waist, tugging me to him when we see Liam climbing up onto the dock as well.

“Sorry for imposing, but when Penny called, I figured I had to come bear witness to the ‘biggest upset in Tomahawk history.’ How can a guy pass that up?” Liam asks, smiling over at me before flicking his gaze back to Benson.

“Should be interesting,” Benson says gruffly, his grip tightening on me even more as he hurries us by Liam.

“Those are some really nice…boots,” I hear Liam say from behind me.

“Thanks,” I say, walking a little taller in my girly combat boots with pink shoe strings.

Rarely ever does anyone notice my boots. After all, Kylie Malone is the one with a massive collection of pretty boots, so mine get overlooked.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Benson grumbles.

“Huh?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he keeps me pressed to his side as we walk toward the assembly. Paul turns to look back at us, then turns to face my uncle as he talks. Then he whips his head back around, eyes wide and fixed on me as he stumbles to get the rest of his body turned around.

Benson mutters something too low for me to hear, and he moves in behind me, before wrapping his arms around my waist. I have no idea why he’s acting so weird.

I don’t usually wear my pajamas in public, but it’s not like it’s a big deal or offensive. These guys wear the same clothes for days sometimes. Not Benson, but most of them. And for fuck’s sake, have you seen the beards?

“Hey, Lilah,” Paul drawls as my uncle talks about who is missing.

He waggles his eyebrows at me, and Benson’s fists clench against my middle.

“Hey, weirdo. What’s wrong with your eyebrows?” I ask seriously.

Paul’s beard sags, and I assume he’s frowning, as Benson snorts.

“That was my sexy look,” Paul defends.

“Have you seen your face? Any expression is hidden under all that wiry hair. And why the hell are you even trying to shoot me sexy looks, anyway? You don’t even like me.”

His eyes drop to my legs again, then back up to meet my gaze. “I’ve changed my mind.”

Benson, bless him, tells Paul to fuck off.

“There she is!” Killian snarls, pointing at me like I’m the town’s leper.

I’m not gonna lie… I totally back against Benson and squeeze his hands that are covering my stomach, praying he protects me.

What if this turns into a bearded mob?

I like my hair, damn it.

My uncle’s exasperated eyes meet mine.

“What were you thinking by interfering in the beard challenge?” he demands.

“There are no rules stating anything about interference,” I say, pointing that out. I actually read the rules—yes, there’s a list of rules.