Page 10 of Breakaway Daddies

Bruno turns his head with deliberate slowness, his eyebrow arching in disbelief. “The hell did you just say?” he asks with a hint of a challenge.

“You heard me,” I reply, my grin widening into a full-blown taunt. “I’d outmatch you all in the sack. She wouldn’t even glance your way after she got a taste of this.”

I sweep my hand over myself with exaggerated drama, as if presenting an irresistible offer.

Bruno doesn’t waste a second. He lunges at my legs, and before I can even brace myself, I’m tackled to the cold, hard pavement.

“What the fuck—” I start to protest, but Bruno cuts me off with a growl and a laugh.

“Let’s see how long you last,lover boy!” His voice is full of playful aggression.

Thomas, never one to miss out on a bit of chaos, dives into the fray, trying to pry Bruno off me while doubled over in laughter.

The three of us roll around on the rough concrete like a bunch of overgrown kids, throwing half-hearted punches and struggling to pin each other down.

By the time we finally disentangle ourselves and stagger to our feet, we’re all out of breath, our faces flushed with exertion and amusement. My ribs ache from laughing.

Bruno brushes the dust off his jeans, a smug smile on his face. “For the record, I’d ruin you,” he declares with a playful certainty.

Thomas, still catching his breath, nods in agreement. “Oh, absolutely,” he chimes in, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I shake my head, still chuckling. “Guess we’ll just have to let Jinx decide,” I say.

Bruno shakes his head, his fingers gripping the worn leather steering wheel as he climbs into the driver’s seat of his massive truck. The slate-gray exterior gleams under the flickering streetlights, reflecting their sporadic glow like a restless sea.

“You two would need a hell of a lot more game if you wanted to trick a girl into putting up with both of you at the same time—let alone all three of us,” he says with a chuckle that echoes in the cab.

Thomas, already sprawled out in the back seat like a king in his own domain, kicks his scuffed sneakers up onto the console between the front seats, the soles brushing against the edge.

“Pfft. Speak for yourself, bud. I have plenty of game,” he retorts, a grin scrawled across his hardened lips.

I slide into the passenger seat, my hand brushing the cool metal of the door handle as I shut it. A smirk of my own forms as I glance at Thomas.

“Oh yeah? Is that why you were moaning about losing your touch the other night?” I tease.

Bruno snorts, the sound mingling with the engine’s roar as he turns the key. The deep rumble vibrates through the truck’s frame, settling into a steady purr.

“Wait, what?” he asks, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.

Thomas groans dramatically, dragging his hands down his face as if trying to erase the memory. “For fuck’s sake, Rowan,” he mutters, his exasperation clear. “That’s why you’re my second call—you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

I chuckle as I click my seatbelt into place. Bruno expertly backs out of the lot, the tires crunching over loose gravel.

“I’m just sayin’. Maybe the reason you’re in a slump isn’t ‘cause you’re getting old, Grandpa; maybe it’s ’cause you want something real for once,” I suggest, both mocking and sincere.

Bruno side-eyes me, a skeptical grin tugging at his lips as we pull onto the road, the headlights casting long shadows on the empty street ahead.

“Oh, so we’re getting deep now? That's what this drive is gonna be?” he questions, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Thomas scoffs, waving a hand dismissively in the air, the motion sending a shadow flickering across the truck’s interior.

“Nah. I just need a drink. And to not think about that,” he insists.

The familiar neon lights of Surf’s Up come into view, promising the night’s adventures.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” I reply, leaning back as we approach our destination.

CHAPTERTHREE

---