Page 42 of Magnetic Temptations

“Morning, baby girl. Mason and his brothers went to talk to their parents. Maverick and Myles were impatient and excited to come back to Texas with us.”

“I don’t think it’s only the MC drawing them in,” I convey.

“What do you think it is?” Hydro asks as he butters his toast and scoots a plate my way.

“Their brother. The three of them are close and with Mason choosing to move a couple of states away, it isn’t sitting right with them,” I inform them. “Y’all know how it is.”

“I’m an only child so I envy him,” Hydro admits. I didn’t know that about him, I thought he had a few siblings running around but considering it’s none of my business I don’t question him on it. In the Italian culture, much like with the motorcycle club lifestyle, men can be your brothers and women can be your sisters without having any blood relations.

I allow myself to be lulled by the conversation around me. I find it funny that they have a block of rooms but find themselves here cooking and roaming around as if this is their home. But that’s the way it is with our family, the door is always open.

Not knowing when we’re planning on hitting the road or what’s happening with Mason, his brothers and their parents, I decide to do a load or two of laundry so it’s clean and I don’t have to do it when we get back to Texas.

“What do you know about Maverick and Myles’ background?” Ella asks as she removes the haul from the dryer and places them into the basket so we can take them into the living room to fold.

“Not much to be honest,” I confess. “I know that Myles is mechanically certified and Maverick has spent his life here working on the ranch. Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering if they’d like to take a position at Kings,” she says. “But not knowing if they have the skillset to join us or not has me thinking I should wait and let them get settled so I can see where they naturally gravitate to.”

“I think you should present them with the option and see what they have to say,” I reply. I mean, I can personally see needing someone with mechanical skills with the sheer number of vehicles and bikes we have.

“Do you think I should talk to Mason first, Mane?”

“No,” I answer, giving her a disgruntled look. “They’re their own person and should be given the chance to make decisions for themselves.”

“Okay. If they figure things out in regard to the ranch and decide to come back with us I’ll ask them about it,” she decides.

“Good choice, Ella.” I smirk. Sometimes you have to lead the horse to the water or they won’t find it for themself.

I smile as she and I continue talking, cleaning up after ourselves, and packing our clean clothes. After all, if we’re ready to go then we can concentrate on helping the brothers box up their belongings.

If I know my man, and from the determination on his blood brothers’ faces, we’ll have added two new trucks to our convoy home.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

MASON

Mom laser focuses on Myles when we enter her house. “What happened to your face?” she asks, hands firmly planted on her hips and a scowl spread from one cheek to the other.

“I had an accident,” Myles lies. “I’m alright, Ma. Don’t look so put out.”

With spatula in hand, she asks, “Whose ass do I need to beat for marking up my baby?”

I roll my eyes at her theatrics because none of us have been babies in quite a few years. “Ma, they’ve been dealt with,” I state. While it wasn’t said by Hydro or Gunner, I presume Myles’ rescue and the subsequent trash day we had comes under the heading of club business. “He was trying to clean a hoof and didn’t move quick enough. Getting slow in your old age, huh, Myles?”

“You can kiss my ass, Mase,” Myles seethes, hissing through the front gap of his teeth.

“Language,” Ma snaps. “I’m a lady and you’ll talk in front of me like gentlemen, not neanderthals.”

“Yes, Ma,” we simultaneously answer. Over the years, we’ve become choreographed in responses when getting in trouble by our matriarch.

“Now, if you feel right about lying to your mother, then that’s on you and you’ll have to answer for it one day,” she says, looking at us one at a time, basically calling us out on our bullshit.

But we’re master’s at deception and always stick to our words. We will never, not in a million years, admit fibbing to her. There are things I’ve held to myself that go back to when we were in preschool. She’d still tan our hide all this time later if she ever found out how much trouble we got into that we never got caught doing. Our mom can hold a mean grudge and she’d hold it over our heads if we admitted half the shit we got into.

“What brings y’all by?” Dad asks, trying to defuse the situation before Mom starts her interrogation. She gives him a displeased look but allows him to shift topics.

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