“We going to war or a carnival?”
“Yup.”
“Relax, Fated Mate.” She’s shot a cocky wink. “Everything is going to be fine…”
**
I lied.
Everything is not fine.
Meeting one brother was a nightmare.
Meeting the other five all at once is the shit nightmares aspire to be.
Yes.
And the black off the shoulders top with bright gold lettering that says “Mate” that mine decided to wear for this evening isn’t helping calm the situation.
Nor is watching her suck powdered sugar off her fingers.
Or bend over to help her twin nieces tie their light-up shoes.
All of that shit is making me extra hungry, and I don’t mean for fucking funnel cakes.
Funnel cakes that I swear they put extra powdered sugar on to make it look like I’d been snorting cocaine, making me the punchline of an obnoxious number of jokes from her brothers.
“What do you for a living again?” Alex, Al’s twin and the Marine, asks me from behind his beer. “Panty model?”
Oh, the cocky shit I would say to him if his sister wasn’t standing right next to me. “I run the marketing and advertising division for DL & Co. while occasionally serving as a COO when requested or needed. My older brother typically has that handled, but you know how it goes. Sometimes you need a helping hand from family to get some of the grittier shit done.”
“Swear jar,” Minnie points a powdered sugar finger up at me.
Ugh.
Fucking mice and their perfect hearing.
“Sounds soft,” Alex judges on a suck of his teeth.
“Super soft,” Abanito or Abs, the UFC fighter immediately agrees.
“Softer than a mall pretzel on Black Friday,” Abacus, the accountant and part time self-defense instructor who sports a matching eyebrow piercing to Ana, needlessly adds.
“Definitely too soft for our sister,” Alex insists prior to having another sip of his drink.
“Excuse the f out of you. I like soft things!” Ana chirps up poorly in my defense.
“Can we stop calling me soft?”
Burn.
Yeah, can’t pig roast our mate’s family, even if it would make both you and I very fucking happy.
“You gonna cry about it?” Alex aggressively mocks and shoots Ana a skeptical look. “You really gonna keep dating someone who probably cries more than you do just because he bought your ass some fancy jewelry?”
Eat.
If I can’t roast him, I damn sure can’t eat him!
“First of all, F off. You know I’m not a material whore, and that shit – like necklaces or rings or the ankle bracelet I’m wearing – don’t matter to me like that.”
“Swear jar,” Minnie hums as if taking score.
“Second, A.D. could make you cry if I let him,” Ana sasses while lovingly wrapping an arm around me. “And I kind of wanna let him.”
Yes.
“You’re just not like the other guys we’ve seen big sis with.” Abacus nonchalantly shrugs.
“Yeah, you don’t have any tattoos,” Abs immediately points in a disapproving nature with an even more disparaging tone.
“Or run a tattoo shop,” Abel, the oldest of the younger set of twins, casually comments.
“Or ride a Harley,” Abraham or Abe, the other half of the pair adds.
“Or have a beard,” Al chimes in.
“Or a body count,” Alex rounds out the collection of characteristics.
“I’m not loving how this makes me look,” Ana snips at the group.
“You’re just not big sis’s normal type,” Abel states in what can only be considered a diplomatic tone. “You’re too…” He tosses his identical twin – down to the box frame glasses they’re wearing – an impish gaze that’s immediately followed by them declaring in unison, “Pretty.”
“Yeah,” Alex quickly agrees while Al simply snickers under his breath. “Way too fucking pretty.”
“I like pretty and soft things!” Ana shouts on a stomp of her foot, spilling beer onto my boots.
“I don’t like being called pretty or soft,” I grunt, doing my best not to glare.
“You like soft and pretty shit? Date a chick,” Abs laughs to himself and downs the last of his beer.
“Or buy a fuzzy pink sweater,” Alex insists with a sneer. “Don’t date the equivalent of one.”
“Did using that word hurt your brain?” I mindlessly chirp back.
All of a sudden, all brothers’ stares swing to me building a tiny knot of trepidation in my throat.
Shit.
Should’ve kept my mouth shut.
Yes.
Really? This from the fucking creature who told me to eat them?
“Did I forget to mention he’s only playing nice because I asked him to?” Ana juvenilely smiles.
Not true.
But I like the fact she has my back.
I know she wants us to get along, and I am more than willing to keep taking this verbal lashing if it pleases her; however, if she opens the door for me to tail whip some shit, I will absolutely be fucking taking it.
“We’re just acknowledging the fact that this Saved by The Bell looking mother f isn’t your normal type,” Abs informs before basketball tossing his empty plastic cup into the nearby trash can.
“I wouldn’t say I had a specific type,” Ana poorly argues.
Grumbles of discontent seep from both me and Gold.
Dragon.
And Draak.
“Prison-esque,” Alex teases and turns his attention to me. “And you look like the type who would ‘ish a brick just hearing the word.”
“Will you lay the fuck off?” Ana bites harshly, fingers clamping down protectively into my side. “I didn’t give Al shit when he introduced us to Min or Abacus shit when he introduced us to Lainey!”
“So many pennies in the swear jar, Auntie Ana,” Minnie sweetly chides, prompting me to lift her up to my arms. “So. Many.”
Ana gives her adorable niece the smallest glare.
“Fact,” Lainey, Abacus’s afro-sporting spin instructor wife, offhandedly acknowledges while scrubbing their twins’ hands with a wet wipe. “Ana was actually just happy someone wanted to date you longer than two weeks.”