Spun (Kings of Chaos 1)

“It would be something unusual like this that would float your boat,” Mimi mumbles.

“What?” I scoff.

She laughs. “You’re one of a kind, Nevada.”

“With a name like mine, you have to be.” We laugh.

“Come on, let’s get the spot cleared out for the tent.” We clear the area of sticks and twigs as we catch up.

“Find a spot you like?” Wizard asks.

I glance up and nod.

“Why don’t you guys hang out while I get things set up?”

“Okay.”

“Mimi, get her a beer and make her relax, please.”

“I can handle that.” Mimi hooks our arms and guides me away. “Well, clearly he cares. I didn’t even know the man had teeth. Yet, there he was smiling at you,” she whispers.

“What? He’s not that bad,” I say.

“Hah. Says you.” We stop by the row of coolers filled with beers, waters, and sodas.

“How are you and Riker?”

“Good. I never knew I could be this happy with a man. After watching my dad beat the living shit out of my mom on a daily basis, I pretty much swore off it. Then I got myself into a situation and Riker was there.” She shook her head. “I got really lucky.”

I rub her back tenderly.

“It’s always funny to me when people see Riker or any of the others from KOC and automatically assume the worst. My dad was a lawyer and well respected in our community. People sang his praises. But behind closed doors he was a monster. He controlled every aspect of my life until I met Riker and took a chance.”

“I’m glad you did. I couldn’t imagine life without you.”

She grins. “I feel the same. You’re the sister I never had.”

“Oh God, you’re going to make me tear up.” I sniff. “Let’s start drinking and get happy before they find us sobbing like lunatics.”

She snickers. “I can just imagine them. What the fuck, babe?” she mocks Riker.

I laugh. We snag a few long necks and sink down onto a log near out tents. I can’t help but watch Wizard as he works. The muscles in his arms flex and his jeans stretch across to hug his firm ass.

“Remember how you mentioned that tension?” Mimi whispers.

“Yeah.”

“I think I know what it is.”

“Really?” I turn to stare at her. “Because you’ve only been with me the entire time. How can you have a diagnosis?”

“Diagnosis? Jesus, college girl, it’s not surgery.” She places a hand on my shoulder. “Its chemistry, babe. Its sexual tension.”

“What?” I croak, clutching my throat. Could he see me as more than his friend’s daughter? The hope rising in my chest is dangerous, so I quickly stomp it out. “No way, he doesn’t see me that way.”

“I can tell you from the dance at your party that he does.”

I shake my head. “No. Don’t even put that in my head.”