Page 12 of Wyatt & Weston
“Twins are fucking weird,” Hadley says.
“At least these two are,” Marshall grumbles.
“Says the man who loves to fuck his girl where anyone can see.” I grin.
And trust me, we’ve caught them more than once. Not gonna lie, it was pretty hot.
Sophia's cheeks heat.
“Fuck off,” Marshall growls.
“And says the guy who robbed the cradle.” Wyatt chuckles, getting a slap upside the head from Marshall.
“I didn’t rob any fucking cradle. She was eighteen.”
“Freshly eighteen,” I point out. “And now she’s nineteen. Teen, brother, teen. Old pervert.”
We’re just giving him a hard time. They both know we love them and are happy for them. Josie is the best thing that happened to any of us.
Speaking of the little one. Crying fills the air and Sophia gets up. “I’ll grab her.”
“Sit, eat. Uncle Weston has her.”
She’s not far, sleeping in her bassinet in the living room. I smile down at the sweet little chubby-cheeked girl who has me wrapped around her finger. “Hi, baby girl.” as I pick her up. She rubs her sleepy face but smiles when she sees me. “How’s my girl?” I kiss her cheek and brush her dark locks from her face.
I never knew just how much I wanted kids until she came into our lives. Something in both Wyatt and I changed.
Seeing Marshall happy and in love made us want that. Someone to come home to, to trust with your heart and soul. Someone to love unconditionally. To have a family with, to grow old with.
We’re in our late twenties, slowly creeping into our thirties. We want what they have.
What we were not planning on was having a little spitfire of a girl walk into our lives and catch our attention. Not one who was married and came with a cart of baggage too.
But that kind of thing doesn’t bother us. Not if we find the right person.
Maybe we’re crazy, because how could we know when we just met the girl yesterday? Every moment we spend with her, we want more. That’s a start, isn’t it?
I bring the baby to join the rest of them, sitting her in her high chair.
“Look. We’re not going to pressure her. We’re going to be gentlemen,” Wyatt says and Hadley snorts.
“Since when have the two of you ever been gentlemen?” she asks. “The only men who can use that title are Carson and Dad.”
My eyes flick over to Carson and he glares at me, telling me to keep my mouth shut. I smirk because I know my baby brother is anything but a gentleman. He might come off as a sweet, quiet cowboy but I’ve walked in on him in the bathroom or at the bar locked in a stall with some guy. The mouth on that man. The things he told that guy to do.
Fucking hell. When he came stumbling out of the stall, zipper still down, he looked like he was going to puke.
He’s my brother, I don’t judge. And I let him know that.
“It’s true,” I add. “We won’t do anything that Emma doesn’t wanna do. We will show her around, be a good friend and if she wants something more, then who are we to tell her no.”
“And what are you going to do when her two weeks are up and she goes back to her life?” Dad asks and the mood sobers.
I give Wyatt a look. He frowns like he hasn’t really thought about it. “We’ll see where things go,” is all I say.
“She’s someone, Weston. Someone important with a lot of money. Someone with a family we don’t want to piss off.”
“I know.” Wyatt was up researching her and her family last night. We know who she is, what she’s worth, and where she came from. “We’ll be careful.”
