Chapter 30
Rhylan
Just as the door shut behind the girls, Silas exploded into hysterical laughter, as if he’d been holding it in, while Trent’s face turned redder than a primed branding iron.
“There ain’t no fuckin’ way…” Trent groaned into his palm as he dragged a hand down the center of his face to refrain from backhanding Silas into last week.
“Oh, you’ve gotta love how shit always seems to come full circle around here. Never a dull fuckin’ moment.” Silas’s outburst shifted into mocking snickers as he attempted to compose himself enough to speak.
“One of you care to explain what’s so fuckin’ funny?” My eyes bounced between the two of them, confused as fuck, before landing on Trent, who now looked as though he were about to be sick.
“Remember that discussion we had the other day? The one where you propositioned Trent into playing babysitter?”
“Silas…” Trent ground out a warning, daring him to continue.
“Oh, who gives a shit, Trent? You’re gonna marry the girl either way, what does it matter if you’ve fucked her once already?
” Leave it to Silas not to beat around the bush and air out someone else’s dirty laundry.
He turned his attention to me, wiping the last tear of joy from his cheek.
“She is Miss Mid-Twenties… the girl who lied about her age so Trent would be a little more hands-on with her? Guess that makes this whole ordeal even easier for both of you now, seeing as you’ve already gotten a good feel for your future wife with your dick. ”
“God fuckin’ help me…” Trent fisted both hands in his hair, though I couldn’t tell if it was out of aggravation or guilt, now that he knew who she was...
“When we met, she explicitly said she wanted nothing more than to get laid. No names, no back stories, no feelings; her words exactly. And, obviously, I agreed to her conditions because… how could I not? I mean, just look at her. Fuck. As if I would ever pass up an opportunity to get my hands on a woman who looked like that when she’s the one offering. ”
Contrary to Silas, even though they both freely fucked around, Trent had drawn lines with whom he would and wouldn’t screw around with; age being the biggest boundary of all, and it seems as though Tiffany had managed to step right over the edge of that one.
Knowing now that she was the one he’d crossed a line with, I didn’t buy into the fact that he didn’t know her age from first glance.
I wouldn’t put it past her for exaggerating her age to get past his buckle, but she didn’t look anywhere near thirty-four.
I also think it’s safe to say that Trent was more interested in Tiffany now than he was just a little over an hour ago.
However, judging by the reaction and quick escape that she’d just pulled with Dakota, I’m not sure the feeling was mutual.
“Looks like it’s your lucky fuckin’ day, Trent. The one that got away has now been gifted to you on a silver platter. Shit like that doesn’t happen every day.” Silas gave him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, receiving a heavy eye roll in return.
“And where the fuck did your maturity go?” Trent asked, with an arched brow.
“I think it’s still soaking into the five-six brunette’s panties from this morning.”
“And that right there is why you weren’t first in line for Tiffany.” Not like Silas had any interest in marrying anyone, let alone her. If she’d have picked him over Trent, he’d have been devastated. Goodbye, single life; hello, ball and chain.
“Because I prefer brunettes over blondes?”
“Because your dick’s never been dry.”
“Gotta stay hydrated all hours of the day. Keeps him looking young.”
“Ahem…” Dakota cleared her throat from behind me, the three of us stiffening as if we’d been caught with our pants down.
“I hope we’re not interrupting your… discussion.
” Her brow arched with the observation as Tiffany stepped up beside her, blue eyes locked on Trent as if he were a fresh hunk of meat ready to face the grill.
We could all agree that under normal circumstances, there wasn’t a woman alive capable of throwing us off our game.
But these two… For some strange reason, they brought an energy to the table that was unlike any other, compelling us to mind our manners instead of being the unhinged, care-free assholes we were.
It took a special kind of woman to become a wife within the MUR. It wasn’t just about looks, though they were a bonus; it all came down to their strong, fearless personality.
The wives of the MUR are birds of prey.
“I’ll do it. But under one condition.” Good lord… another stipulation. These two truly were a match made in heaven.
“Anything for you, sweet pea.” Trent stepped forward, chest puffed out, as if the wind hadn’t just been knocked from his lungs with the revelation of her identity.
“I want to live with my sister.” Tiffany delivered her words with a wicked smile, one that would send any sane man running straight for the fucking hills.
“What?” Trent and I echoed, staring blankly at each other while Silas took a huge step back, out of our conversation radius, before dipping out completely. That lucky son of a—
“Look, no offense, but I don’t know you, and I’m not comfortable living alone with a stranger I’ve never met—” Just fucked… “until now.” Her eyes narrowed on Trent before shifting to me. “So it’s this or the deal is off, and you risk murdering your wife’s only sister.”
“We’re not turning my ranch into a compound.” There had to be a line, and this was where mine had been drawn. My foot was down. I bought the land for peace and serenity, and not to mention privacy.
“And you don’t have to. It’s just one house.
” Dakota interjected. Just one house… Next thing you know, she’ll be asking for a pool, sauna, or a full studio with a view.
“We’ve lived together for most of our lives, I don’t blame her for having a lack of trust with him…
No offense.” She gestured to Trent, who took the insult to heart.
“Hey now, don’t I get a say in any of this? What about what I want?”
“You said ‘anything’ for your sweet pea.” Tiffany fluttered her lashes while sliding her palm in his, interlacing their fingers as his eyes followed the movement with dumbstruck confusion.
“You haven’t even seen my place—”
“And I’m sure it’s lovely, but if you want me to play good little housewife, then this is what I need. No substitutions.”
“Rhy…” I almost felt bad for him, but I also knew that a part of him enjoyed seeing her in a domineering light, opposite to the way she looked.
“Sorry, Trent.” I held up my hands. If this is what our cowgirls wanted—
“C’mon, man, you can’t be—”
“I’m willing to compromise.”
“You truly are out of your fuckin’ mind, kid… woman’s whipped your ass black and blue,” Trent grumbled, thinking long and hard on Tiffany’s request; her demand. “You know what… Fuck it. Fine. Let’s do this. But you’re still gonna have to live with me until the new house is built.”
Tiffany stood with her arms crossed, glaring daggers at Trent in hopes that he’d buckle under the pressure and take back what he’d said, allowing her to still live with Dakota instead. When he didn’t, she stomped her feet like an angry toddler and met him halfway.
“…f-fine. But I want my own bed.” She hissed, and he turned smug at her response.
“Only got one room, sweet pea, and I can promise you that my bed is far comfier than the couch.”
“Better buy a new couch then, 'cause that's where you're sleeping.” With a huff, Tiffany turned on her heel and strutted out of the bar, not even bothering to check if my wife had moved to follow. I’d consider that a win-win in Trent’s case.
For now.