Chapter 39 Kitty
THIRTY-NINE
KITTY
It said a lot about the weekend’s mayhem that none of us put up a fight about going home instead of flying to Vegas when Stan proffered my suggestion to my siblings.
Raisin seemed okay with Neev but definitely had an attitude with me, if not Stan, which was beyond unfair.
And I got the feeling that her sneaking out was some kind of ‘fuck you.’ The type of shade only sisters knew how to throw at one another with the accuracy of a sniper’s bullet. Not that I knew why. You never did with Raisin.
When Stan got the call that the plane was ready for takeoff, he said his farewells to the MC leaders, only after he had us agree to stay in the bunkhouse until he returned, and proceeded to shepherd us out into the hired car.
As before, during takeoff, he let me use his lap instead of anti-nausea meds, and I couldn’t deny that this was the five-star treatment.
The second Stan visited the restroom during the flight, my shit-stirring siblings shifted over to my seat.
“What happened last night?” Neev hissed. “Were you butchering cats in there?”
I shoved her arm. “Fuck off. It did not sound that bad.”
“You so did,” she teased before pouting. “I’ve never climaxed like that before. No fair.”
Oddly enough, the complaint came as a relief.
In the past, that groomer bastard had always heralded compliments from her.
Maybe seeing her sister date a real man who didn’t pick his girlfriends out of a high-school classroom—hearing them too (cringe alert)—would force her to come to terms with her history?
Not that I wanted my baby sister to feel the trauma of her childhood, just to stop canonizing that asshole.
She snagged my hand. “What’s with the ring, anyway?”
“When did that happen?” Raisin bit off, yanking my fingers away from Neev’s grip so she could glower at it too. “What’s going on, Kitty?”
Neev made a kissy face. “Was this whole spring break idea all so you two could have a weekend together without being under the watchful eyes of our darling brothers?”
“That you think I planned this fucking mess of a weekend tells me you’ve been smoking weed again.
” At her derisive sniff, I countered, “Anyway, the city’s plenty big enough for me to fuck Stan in some fancy hotel if I wanted.
Lucas and Cade have never found out about any of our secret boyfriends before, so why would they find out this time? ”
“Because it matters. He’s Sicilian.”
“And?”
“I think Miss. Pruneface means he isn’t Irish,” Neev chimed in, ever helpful.
“Look, you wanted to sit together on the plane and left me on my own! I didn’t set up that whole thing—”
“Was he behind the flight upgrades?”
“No!” I glared at them both. “Why would he be? Ask him. He’ll tell you he traveled on business and only left Cancún for us.”
“You want us to believe it was pure luck?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Believe what you want.”
Neev sniffed. “Almost wish I’d taken the seat next to him. Did you fake them, Kitty? No one’s that good—”
“I nearly passed out,” was my smug retort.
“Seriously, what’s the ring about? Oh, my god, is that why he wanted to reroute to Vegas? You were going to marry him?” Neev squealed at the same time as Raisin demanded:
“Are you seeing him again?” As Neev bounced in her seat, Raisin started spluttering, “Of course they’re not getting married. Oh, fuck, are you?!”
“If she doesn’t, she’s an idiot,” Neev answered on my behalf.
“Thank you for the endorsement, Neev,” Stan commented, wading into the chaos of that conversation with an ease that took the heat off of me.
If I hadn’t already known he had siblings, this was proof.
Neev, of course, was the only one cool enough to brush off any embarrassment with: “Do you have a younger brother?”
“And here’s me thinking you and Miguel were meant to be,” he joked as he ambled back to his seat and, casual as you please, dragged me onto his lap.
I settled on there while my sisters shuffled around.
“Miguel was nice,” Neev agreed, twirling a strand of hair around her finger again. “Very nice.”
“Did you get his number?”
“Kitty, what do you take me for?”
“An idiot?”
I tutted. “Raisin, that was mean and you can’t judge. Not when two bikers fought over you last night.”
“I didn’t ask them to,” she defended. “I left the bunkhouse on Operation: Get Shitfaced. They were in their feels over a couple dances, not me. I wanted to hang out with the clubwhores.”
“They’re really called that?” Neev inquired.
“Yup. They call themselves that, too. It’s like a badge of honor. Fascinating stuff.” Raisin hitched a shoulder. “Anyway, you two are the ones actively interested in criminals. Not me. No offense, Custanzu.”
“None taken,” he said dryly, but he meant it.
I liked that he could chill with my sisters.
It felt… important.
For the, you know, future.
Inside, I squealed again.
Even knowing that allowing my mind to trip in that direction made me the fool.
Raisin had it right—he was a criminal.
And the path to falling in love with one could never be smooth…
The ring on my finger cemented that home truth.
I had no way of knowing why he’d traveled with it on his person or what secrets lay behind it, but I wouldn’t take it off either.
As madcap as this whole thing was, the part of me that suffered perennial disappointment with the guys I dated, who devoured rom-coms, who wanted to believe in true love, felt like I might have found the real deal.
Call me dumb, na?ve, or downright batshit. I’d take it to see how this would pan out…