Page 98 of Wicked Spite
I can’t help but roll my eyes at his smug grin. It’s clear that he picked the phrase ‘The Biggest Blackwood’ for a dig at this family, but my sister is completely oblivious to the meaning behind the words, her innocent expression only fueling my irritation with Penn.
“Are you happy with yourself?” I snap, smacking him on the chest as he laughs and slips the bracelet onto his wrist. “You’re such an ass.”
“What do you think, wife? Am I a liar?” Penn asks loudly, his eyes dancing with amusement. I narrow my gaze at him, refusing to give in to his childish antics.
“I don’t know about the biggest, but you’re definitely the most obnoxious of them,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest.
Ramsey shakes his head, chuckling as he interjects, “You’ve never seen Lincoln with a stomachache if you think Penn wins most obnoxious.” His comment earns a laugh from both Reese and me, and it’s only for a split second, but I swear Ramsey’s expression softens when he hears her giggling.
“Where’s my bracelet?” Ramsey asks Reese, a playful pout forming on his lips. Reese grins back at him, mischief sparkling in her eyes.
“Come make one with me. What should it say? Hockey Hunk?” she replies, extending her hand toward him and she’s trying so hard not to grin. Without a word, Ramsey stands up, scoops Reese up like she’s a rag doll, and tosses her over his shoulder. He casually walks back into the house with her, leaving Penn and me alone on the patio.
I shake my head, torn between annoyance and amusement at their antics. A small part of me can’t help but feel grateful for the levity they bring to our lives.
“Promise me you won’t corrupt her,” I say to Penn, my tone a mixture of teasing and seriousness. He smirks, raising his right hand as if taking an oath.
“Scout’s honor,” he replies, the glint in his eyes betraying his outward sincerity. I scoff, but a small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth despite myself.
“Good,” I murmur, reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck. “Because if you do, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?” Penn whispers, his breathhot against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Before I can respond, he captures my lips in a kiss.
When we pull apart, Penn murmurs, “I missed you,” his lips brushing my earlobe as he pulls me close. His hands roam over my back, tracing the curve of my spine down to where it meets my hips.
“You can’t distract me, Penn Blackwood. Stop asking my sister to make you big dick bracelets,” I retort, trying to keep my tone light despite the heat rising in my cheeks from the way he kissed me.
“You think I have a big dick?” he counters, his eyes locked on mine, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
“Shut up,” I huff, aiming for indignation but failing miserably as a laugh bubbles up from deep within me. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Ah, but I’m your idiot,” Penn teases, his fingers dancing along the sensitive skin exposed by the neckline of my shirt. A shiver races down my spine at his touch, my nipples tightening into hard peaks beneath the fabric. “Now kiss your husband like a good girl.”
Chapter 37
Penn
Reagan’s phone won’t shut up. It’s been ringing non-stop, breaking through the rare moment of peace we’re attempting to have at dinner. Seriously, this constant buzzing is grinding my nerves down to a fine powder.
“Jesus Christ, Reagan,” I snap, reaching across the table before she can protest. “Give me that damn thing.”
She glares at me, those eyes of hers practically shooting daggers, but she doesn’t move to stop me. I grab the phone and hit the answer button, bringing it to my ear with a sarcastic flourish.
“Hello, you’ve reached the delightful household of Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood,” I say, my voice dripping with mock politeness. “How can we ruin your evening tonight?”
“Penn, you bastard!” John’s voice roars through the speaker, so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “Where the hell is my daughter? I want her back now!”
“Ah, hello, John St. Pierre,” I drawl, leaning back in my chair as I let the smug grin spread across my face. “So nice of you to call. But you see, Reagan isn’t your daughter anymore. She’s my wife.” The word ‘wife’ drips from my lips like poisoned honey, sweet yet deadly.
“Don’t play games with me, Blackwood!” John spits back. “You know damn well what you’ve done. This isn’t over.”
“Clearly, it isn’t,” I retort, my tone darkening. “But you’re going to have to get used to it. Reagans with me now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Hand her the phone,” he demands, voice crackling with fury.
“Sorry, John,” I say, faking regret. “She’s a little tied up at the moment. Why don’t you calm down and maybe take a sip of that overpriced bourbon you love so much?”
“Don’t you dare—” he starts, but I cut him off.
