“We’re now the Nolans family,” Deacon affirms.
“But why?” his dear, sweet mother asks so innocently.
“Because it’s Tomahawk,” I say with a smile, even as Benson’s eyes narrow on me. “And in Tomahawk, there are four corners of crazy to represent the Wild Ones. They’d never leave him alone if they found out Benson—our beloved, bearded, awesome, manly Benson—was secretly the heir to a body wash empire.”
A muscle jumps along Benson’s jaw, but his eyes are smiling at me.
“What’s wrong with body wash?” his stepfather asks.
I’ve always loved how Benson smells. And because I love him, I won’t let the other Wild Ones know his secret. At least not until he’s married to me and gains exemption that way.
“It’s Tomahawk,” Benson and I both say, only confusing everyone more.
“Unless your profession is as manly as they get, you keep your fucking mouth shut,” Benson grumbles. “And I’m not an heir. I’m a shareholder in the family business that our mother started and turned into an empire. We’re proud of her.”
His mother beams, and I realize insulting the body wash empire would be devastatingly disrespectful.
“I love the way he smells,” I say with a shrug. “But the other Wild Ones would never leave him be.”
She nods determinedly, still rolling with the punches. I really like her.
“What’s a Wild One?” Sadie asks, her eyes on me.
My lips curl into a dark grin. “We usually like blowing things up. Or hunting, because we’re the best shots on the lake. Or fighting, because that’s our favorite form of communication. Or we find something randomly dangerous to do when we’re bored. In short, we’re fucking crazy, sometimes dangerous, and worst…very unpredictable.”
I wink at her, and she swallows hard.
Benson’s arm slides around my waist, and he kisses the top of my head.
“I can’t believe I never knew this town had so much excitement,” Benson’s mother says, her eyes alight with interest. “Let’s go get changed for this fish fry,” she adds, clapping her hands together, then she purses her lips. “What’s a fish fry? And what does one wear to such a thing?”
I restrain a smile as Benson blows out a breath. He’s going to catch hell for having a mother who worries about what to wear to a fish fry.
“Let’s get in. I’ll break it down for you,” he tells her, still keeping me close.
“If it’s all the same to you,” Deacon starts, sidling up to Benson’s other side, “I think I’m going to come back in a few months and stay for a while. This town has piqued my interest.”
I look away, giving them the most privacy I can for this moment, since I’m pressed up against Benson’s side and he’s not letting me go.
I know the town isn’t the reason Deacon wants to stay, and I know on some level, Benson just remembered how much fun it is to have a brother. Considering they went against my brothers.
And won!
And they didn’t get blown up. Not that my brothers were actually trying to blow them up, but they were trying to blow enough water into the boat to rock their worlds.
They’re better aims than that, and if they wanted to blow something up, they would.
“Make sure you’re back before the end of fall,” Benson says with a shrug. “Once the snow sets in and the lake freezes, it’s hard to get out here. Impossible in that Mercedes you own. And if you’re going to be sticking around, lose the Mercedes. Trust me. You’ll never hear the end of it.”
I look back just as Deacon smiles and directs his attention to the ground. “Sounds like a good idea.”
His mother is watching them from the top when I look up, and she gives me a soft, somewhat appreciative smile that I don’t understand.
Deacon jogs up the steps ahead of us, kissing his mother on the top of her head, before he walks in.
She speaks just as we step in front of her.
“Care if I have a word with Lilah in private?” she asks Benson.
He looks to me for permission, and I shrug. I have no idea what she wants to say to me, but…I figure she may be worried for her son’s health. My brothers did just throw pipe bombs at him.
Somehow I don’t think telling her they weren’t actually trying to kill him will mean very much to her.
“I’ll go get out of my wet clothes,” Benson says, looking at me again. “Hurry up and join me.”
I flash a grin, then remember his mother probably isn’t used to such insinuations. I forget how normal people behave and all that.
She’s blushing when I look back at her, and Benson walks off, leaving us to speak.
“Fish fries are very casual. If you have jeans, I’d wear them. And a T-shirt. Boots are the best for any event around here. Bugs are vicious,” I say, babbling.