Becoming A Vincent (The Wild Ones 1)

“You’re hiding from us,” Killian states flatly when he’s right in front of me.

“You idiots still need to fix my dock. And my bed. And I want my ceiling fan back too.”

“You cut off our beards, and you think we still owe you?” Hale asks, his eyes wide as he joins us. “You’re insane! My balls are still quivering.”

Their faces are clean shaven. I almost forgot what they looked like after all these years.

Two arms come around my waist, and I resist the urge to sigh as I lean back on Benson. My brothers glance at the contact, and as one, both their eyes narrow and settle on the man behind me.

“Everything okay over here?” Benson asks.

“You’re touching our sister,” Killian accuses.

“I’ve touched your sister numerous times before,” he points out.

“Yeah, but you didn’t look like you do now, barely bearded and all. And she didn’t get that dreamy look on her face before either,” Hale says calmly, but there’s an edge to his tone.

Apparently, Benson without a bushy beard is less scary to my brothers than Benson with a bushy beard. I can sort of understand that. Doesn’t make it suck less in this moment.

I actually feel the blush as it races over my body, and start praying it turns dark in two seconds, even though it’s still at least two or three hours until sunset.

“Dreamy look, huh?” Benson asks, sounding amused.

I refuse to turn and look at him. Instead, I give the death glare to my idiot brothers. Neither of them even glance at me to see it though, and they all stand a head over me, making it impossible to put my face in their line of vision even with the help of my tiptoes—that I’m pointlessly using. Short girl problems.

“What the hell is going on in your house?” Killian demands. “I thought you two were just friends.”

“We are,” Benson drawls, but he moves a little closer.

I practically feel the mockery in his tone.

“She’s our only sister,” they remind him.

“I’m aware.”

See? The few times I’ve considered dating, this has happened. It’s always mortifying and it usually terrifies any guy who even toys with the idea seeing me more than once.

“We don’t like guys who touch our sister,” Hale goes on, standing to his full, very tall height.

“You two are welcome to remove my hands from her,” Benson taunts.

They eye him, eye me, then eye where his hands rest across my middle. I bet they think of his spinning kick thingy, because I don’t see them lunging yet.

“We’ll be watching you,” Killian warns, pointing a finger at Benson before he moves to where the beer is resting in an ice chest.

I blow out a long breath, and Benson laughs behind me. “All these years I’ve had my hands on you, but I lose a chunk of my beard, so now they’re threatening me.”

I try to play it off, shrugging. “I’m surprised they haven’t threatened you sooner.”

I turn around, hoping I’m not fifty shades of red, and he grins down at me.

“Because I touch you?” he asks.

“And because I crash at your place from time to time,” I add, pressing against him a little more.

His eyes lock on mine, and I take in every beautiful inch of his face, admiring how much better it is to be this close without having a beard tickling me.

“Benson, did you bring them?” my uncle asks, interrupting our moment.

My eyes almost pop out of my head. Uncle Bill’s beard is still there, but it’s neatly trimmed, much shorter, and you can see his mouth now.

“See? He knew who I was,” Benson says, cocking an eyebrow at me.

“Actually,” Uncle Bill says, clearing his throat and grinning sheepishly. “I had to get Penny to help me find you. Didn’t realize that was you.”

Benson’s eyebrows go up, and I grin triumphantly as they walk off to do whatever.

“If he hurts you, you realize we’ll have to break both his legs.” Killian’s voice startles me, since I had no idea he was anywhere around.

Hale hands me a beer that I inspect with dubious caution before opening.

“Possibly an arm or two as well,” Hale adds.

“It’s not like that,” I say on a sigh before sipping the beer.

My eyes linger on Benson as he smiles and says something to my uncle.

“If you say so,” Killian murmurs.

“We’ll get your bed fixed tomorrow so you can get back to your cabin,” Hale says adamantly.

“That’s not the only reason I’m avoiding my cabin,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I know you’re planning something terrible to punish me for the beard debacle.”

“We were.” Killian nods as he says this. “But that was before we realized how cozy you are with Benson. We’ll call a truce, and you can come home.”

“I don’t believe you.”

They exchange a look, then return their gazes to me.

“Seriously. Get home. We’ll call a truce on the graves.”