Page 74 of King

Joey snapped his fingers. “Yeah! That guy. Every time we watch it, you get all sigh-y and sappy-eyed. The only difference is King has long black hair instead of white.”

Amara turned her gaze to King, really looking at him now. Damn. Joey had a point. The chiseled jaw, the intense stare, the sheer presence—oh hell. Her body tingled as the realization hit her.

“So, yeah,” Joey continued, oblivious to her internal meltdown. “There’s no way you didn’t date or have women throwing themselves at you, batting their fake lashes all sappy-eyed.”

King smirked. “Out of respect for Amara, I won’t discuss the women with fake lashes I’ve known in the past.”

Joey groaned. “Damn. I was hoping for some juicy stuff. And dude, you seriously need to watch more TV. Maybe tomorrow we’ll startThe Witcher, but be prepared for a lot of sighing and sappy eyes from her.” He jerked a thumb at Amara. “She thinks he’s hot.”

King’s smirk deepened. “Is that so?”

Amara cursed her traitorous nephew as her face flamed.

“Okay, guys,” Joey yawned, stretching. “I’m gonna crawl upstairs now because screw those damn crutches.”

Before Amara could stop him, King stood and walked over, kneeling in front of Joey. “Climb on.”

“I sure hope you carrying me never gets out.” Joey sighed with a frown. “It’s a little embarrassing being carried by a dude like a little bitch.”

“There’s always the crutches,” King reminded him, then winked at Amara over his shoulder. “And I’m not carrying you like a little bitch. I’m carrying you like I would any wounded Warrior.”

“Definitely more cool,” Joey said as he climbed on King’s back. “Night, Amara.”

“Good night,” She watched, heart swelling, as Joey climbed onto King’s back, and King taking the weight of a grown teenager as if it was nothing.

She exhaled the second they were gone and rolled her eyes at herself. “Get a grip,” she muttered, shaking her head as she started cleaning up their mess.

Carrying their plates to the sink, she rinsed them off and loaded them into the dishwasher. When she turned to grab the rest, she collided with a solid wall of muscle.

A startled squeal left her lips before she laughed. “Youscaredme.” She looked up at him… and damn Joey. Now, she couldn’tunseethe Witcher resemblance.

“This Bernie guy…” King’s voice was low, serious. “He doesn’t bother you anymore?”

Amara sighed. “Joey and his big mouth,” she muttered. “No, he hasn’t. He never hurt me or anything. Just wouldn’t leave me alone. Called all the time, left what felt like millions of messages, showed up at places I was, and it just got... creepy. I didn’t even know Lee had confronted him until months after it all stopped. He was afraid of Lee.”

King nodded, his jaw tight. “He was a good brother to you.”

“He had his moments.” The sadness crept in again, knowing that they’d be saying their final goodbyes to Lee tomorrow. “You didn’t like him very much, did you?”

King hesitated, then smirked. “I like him more knowing he kicked Bernie’s ass.”

Amara let out a soft laugh, resting her forehead against his chest. He had a way of making her sadness lighter and more bearable.

King toyed with her hair. “So, you think this… Witcher guy ishot?”

Amara pulled back, raising a brow. “Are you a jealous man, King?”

“That depends.” His gaze darkened.

“On?”

“Do I really look like this guy?” He arched an eyebrow, waiting.

She bit her lip, pretending to study him, even wrinkling her nose for effect. He growled low in his throat.

“Maybe a little.” She sighed dramatically. “But you’re much more... handsome. Andbigger.”

King’s smirk was pure sin. “Bigger, huh?”