Sloane scoffed and crossed her arms. “You’re not seriously saying you plan to electrocute your dinner guests.”
“I’ll be honest. I don’t care about dinner or our friendship that much,” I said, pulling my car keys out of my pocket.
Sloane put her hands on her hips in triumph. “Good riddance.”
Knox snatched the keys from me. “I don’t think you’re hearing me. Naomi has decided you both can’t be invited to the same social shit. Which means she’ll schedule twice as much social shit to make sure both of you pains in the ass get the same amount of quality fucking time with us. And I don’t want more social shit. I don’t want more quality fucking time. I want you two to put aside your petty ‘we have a secret feud that we won’t talk about’ bullshit and make my wife forget that you can’t stand each other.”
“This is ridiculous,” I insisted.
“No. You’re fucking ridiculous for making me do this. So either you both go in there strapped up to these toys, pretend to be adults for the evening, and make my wife happy, or you both go the hell home and think about how stupid you must be for making me the fucking voice of reason in this scenario.”
I glanced down at Sloane, who seemed to be weighing the ridiculous options.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked, eyes narrowed in calculation.
“Tacos.”
“Dammit,” she muttered and grabbed one of the TENS units.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m hungry, and I’m proving to the bearded barber here that I’m a better friend than you are,” Sloane announced. She pulled up the hem of her turtleneck, baring her smooth stomach.
“I’m not doing this,” I told Knox.
“I’m not forcing you. You know the choices and the consequences. But I meant what I said. It’s both of you or neither. And if I go back in there and have to tell my wife that you two couldn’t even agree to not be assholes for however long it takes to shove a bunch of tacos into your face, she’s gonna be upset, and that’ll make me fucking furious. I’ll have no choice but to make it my mission in life to destroy you both,” Knox threatened.
“What’s the matter, Lucifer? Afraid of a little pain or afraid you won’t be able to control yourself?” Sloane taunted with a challenge in her eyes.
Swearing, I yanked my belt free and untucked my shirt. “For the record, these better be the best tacos I’ve ever had, because I’m not convinced this friendship is worth it.”
Sloane’s green eyes skimmed over the skin I was baring as I slapped the two adhesive pads to my abdomen.
“Get it out of your system now, ’cause Waylay is sitting between you two. If my girl catches you being dicks to each other, she gets to shock the shit out of you.”
As we marched toward the house, I comforted myself with the fact that it would be Waylay, not Knox, behind the controls. Besides, how bad could period pain be?
Lightning bolts of agony raced across my abdomen and down my legs. I slapped a palm to the table, rattling glasses and silverware.
Piper yipped and Waylon grumbled about their exile on the other side of the dog gate.
Waylay snickered, and all conversations ceased as everyone turned to look at me.
Knox looked smug. Sloane’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter on the other side of Waylay’s blond head. Everyone else looked concerned.
“You okay there, Lucy?” Nash asked from across the table.
“Fine,” I rasped as the pain dissipated.
Sloane dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her napkin. “I believe you were saying my voice reminded you of a rabid chihuahua. Did you want to continue that thought or—”
Her napkin and salsa spoon fell to the floor as Sloane’s entire body tensed. She let out a high-pitched squeak.
“What’s going on?” Naomi asked from Knox’s right.
“Nothing,” Waylay, Knox, Sloane, and I announced at the same time.
We all managed innocent smiles that didn’t seem to be fooling anyone.
“Naomi, what did you say our reception colors are?” Lina asked, drawing her attention to the other side of the table.
“I didn’t insult him, you little punk,” Sloane hissed to Waylay.
“You were baiting him. That’s just as bad. Trust me. I’m basically the queen of trash talking on the soccer field,” Waylay informed her.
“You have to have my unit dialed up higher,” I accused. It had felt as if my insides were in danger of exiting my body.
“Actually you’re only at an eight. Knox and me figured Sloane had an advantage seein’ as how she’s a girl and has had her period for a few decades.”
“Exactly how old do you think I am?” Sloane asked, then shook her head. “Never mind. Just tell me what mine is set at.”
“You’re a nine.”
Sloane punched the air in victory. “Yes!”
Naomi was watching us again. I held up a taco and gave her a friendly nod. “Take me to a ten,” I told Waylay when Naomi looked away.
“I don’t know. Knox said the girls aren’t allowed to use level ten at the bar anymore since Garth Lipton almost pooped his pants.”
“Take me to ten,” I insisted tersely.
“There’s nothing heroic about shitting your pants, Rollins,” Sloane said under her breath. Her body went rigid again, and the taco she was holding exploded when it hit her plate. “Gah! Waylay, I wasn’t insulting him. I was giving him advice.”
“It sounded like an insult to me. Besides, you swore, and that’s a dollar for the swear jar, which means Aunt Naomi gets to spend extra time in the stupid produce aisle.”
“Waylay, how are your tacos?” Naomi called.
“They’re good. They’d be better without all the slimy weird vegetables in them, but I guess I can suffer through that part,” the kid said.
“Garth Lipton is forty years older than me,” I said to Sloane over the top of Waylay’s head.
“I’m just looking out for you. You could barely handle an eight. I’d hate to see what a ten would do to you. I mean, I’d love it. But I’m being the bigger, more mature adult here,” she whispered back.
“Just because you can’t handle a ten has no bearing on my endurance. I’ll be fine.”
“I am a woman. Two weeks ago, I had cramps so bad I had to lie down on the floor of the public restroom at the mechanic’s garage. And then I had to get back up and go do my job for eight hours. I was born to handle a ten.”
“You two aren’t saying mean things, but your tones are getting kinda snippy,” Waylay warned.
“Take me to a ten,” I ordered.
“Fine. Tens all around. I’ll show you how to handle it,” Sloane snapped.
“I hate to point this out because I’m definitely having fun here, but I think you guys are losing sight of the reason Knox is letting me electrocute you.”
First Knox, now Waylay. The voices of reason were getting less likely as the evening wore on.
Sloane glared at me over Waylay’s head. I glared back.
“Bite me,” she mouthed at me.
“You’re not my type,” I mouthed back.