Free Three Kings, One Night (Lost Kings MC #2.5) by Autumn Jones Lake

 
    “Bug, hand me that last strand of lights.”
    “No.”
    Heidi’s tone makes me tip my head up and I accidentally jam a staple into my thumb. “Fuck, god dammit, Heidi!”
    “Oh shit, Blake! I’m sorry.”
    I don’t know why something so little hurts so fucking much, but it does. Feeling like an asshole for making such a big deal, I shake it off.
    “Are you okay?” she asks.
    Now I feel like a jerk for yelling at her. “Yeah, I’m fine. Hand me the lights?”
    She does without complaining this time, and I get them tacked up without further injury.
    “Shoulda done this a fuckin’ month ago, not Christmas Eve.”
    Heidi shrugs. “Grandma always goes out with her friends and then to church. She won’t be back for a few hours.”
    Great, just what I need. Alone time with my best friend’s hot, underage sister.
    “Where’s your dickhead brother?”
    “Said he’d be over with some pizzas in a little bit.”
    Thank God.
    “Want to come inside and help me hang stuff in there?”
    Unfortunately, I do. That’s why I will stay right the fuck out here where it’s cold and we’re in plain sight.
    “No,” I bark at her a little harsher than I intended. Her face falls and I want to punch myself.
    “Sorry, Bug. I just want to finish this before it gets dark.”
    “Okay.” She grabs an armful of garlands and starts twirling them around the porch railings.
    “That front step still holding okay?”
    Heidi bounces up and down on said step. “Yup.”
    Teller and I spent a good chunk of time and money last summer fixing up the outside of his grandmother’s ancient Victorian house. Not that the old bat appreciated it, but Heidi deserved to live somewhere where the front porch wasn’t crumbling apart.
    “All right. Go flip the switch for me, Heidi-girl.”
    I laugh as she skips up the steps to get the lights. Then I’m blinded by the dozens of LED bulbs that come to life.
     
    ***
     
    The front porch bathed all in white Christmas lights is breathtaking. Spending time with Blake putting them up, has been perfect.
    I’ve always been a sucker for Christmas lights. Grandma hates them. Well, she doesn’t like the work, which at her age I understand.
    “Thanks for helping me, Blake.”
    He rubs a hand over his tidy, ginger beard. “No problem, Bug.”
    God, how I hate when he calls me that. “You know what I’d like for Christmas?”
    “What?”
    “You to stop calling me bug.”
    He cocks his head, studying me before answering. Between his knit cap and facial hair, I can barely see him. “You know you can’t pick your road name. You think I liked getting tagged with Murphy?”
    Yes, I think he did like it. “I’m not part of the MC, so I don’t need a road name.”
    “You’re MC family.”
    Pretending I’m fixing one of the garlands, I reach down and grab a handful of snow and roll it into a quick ball.
    “Don’t you dare, Bug.”
    The snow makes a nice wet, whapping sound when I peg him in the chest with it.
    “Now you’re gonna get it.”
    He bends over and starts scooping up a massive amount of snow. No way am I getting pelted with one of his fastballs. Squealing, I turn and run in the opposite direction, around the house.
    But Blake knows me too well. He must have gone the opposite way, because when I turn the corner, we collide and go down to the ground in a pile of limbs. Blake lets out a soft whoosh of air when I hit him. His arms instinctively wrap around me to protect me from the fall. I’ve got him pinned under me and I’m laughing so hard I can’t get a breath.
    “Damn girl, you’re a friggin’ linebacker.”
    “Funny.”
    “Get off me.”
    His arms are still wrapped around me, so I try and wriggle out of his hold. “I can’t. Let go of me.”
    A strange look crosses his face, but he lifts his arms, laying them on the ground like he’s about to make snow angels.
    He grunts when I use his chest to push myself up.
    A wet ball of snow pelts my cheek.
    “Dammit, Blake! That went