“That little…son of……asshole….I’m…..I’m……argh!”

*-*-*-*

“Why are ye grinning like an idiot?” Shayne asked, never looking away from the television where a low budget seventies  p**n  was playing.

Tristan hummed happily as he towel dried his hair and chest. He probably should have finished drying off before he pulled on his jeans, but he’d been too damn anxious to wait.

Marty was coming over, he thought, grinning like a fool and not really caring.

“No reason,” he replied happily as he walked through the living room and headed towards the kitchen.

Shayne, surprisingly followed after him, shutting off his  p**n , which he only did under dire emergencies or because Tristan’s mother was visiting. He followed Tristan into the kitchen, saying nothing as Tristan looked through the drawer full of take out menus.

“Are we ordering out tonight?” Shayne asked. In all the years he’d watched over the lad, he’d never once seen him this happy. The closest he’d ever come was when Marty was around.

“Yes, Marty’s coming over.”

His brows flew up at that bit of news. “Ye have a date with Marty?” He didn’t try to hide his surprise. Tristan had been in love with the girl for years and never once, to his aggravation, had the lad acted on it.

Tristan shifted uncomfortably. “Not a date so much as her coming over here to kill me.”

“What?”

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat loudly, “might have done something to um, piss her off enough to come here and kick my ass.”

“I think I should sit down for this,” Shayne said as he stumbled over to the kitchen table and sat down on the chair. He gestured for Tristan to continue even though he was sure this wasn’t going to be good and might end up with Hank coming after the lad with a shotgun.

“Do you think she’ll want Chinese?” Tristan asked, making a piss poor attempt to distract Shayne.

“Lad,” that one word was laced with warning, a tone that had always worked on Tristan. Where his natural father hadn’t given a flying f**k about him, he had three men who eagerly took over the job.

Tom, his real dad as far as he was concerned, was protective. He’d been the first person to show Tristan unconditional love. He’d also taught him how to fish, ride a bike, and everything and anything about the medical field.

Hank had immediately taken Tristan under his wing at the ripe old age of six. He’d quickly became one of his best friends. He’d taught Tristan how to protect himself and when it was appropriate to throw a punch and when to walk away. He’d always introduced Tristan as his boy and, when Tom was around, he referred to him as “our” boy, earning curious looks.

Shayne had taught Tristan how to trust. He was also the more motherly of the three men, which was a sharp contrast to his tough Irish persona. When Tristan broke his arm when he’d been fifteen, during a football game, it had been Shayne running around the field screaming like a banshee as Tristan was loaded into the ambulance. It was also Shayne who, for the next two weeks, haunted the hell out of the linebacker who’d broken his arm. He was fiercely protective, but he could also be one of the sternest men in his life, like now.

“What. Did. Ye. Do?”

As big a pervert as Shayne was when it came to  p**n  and women, Tristan had no doubt whatsoever as to what his reaction would be when he found out what Tristan did to Marty. Shayne believed in treating a lady with respect even if she was a whore. Considering how much Shayne liked Marty, Tristan was going to be in deep shit.

“I, uh, that is, we may have fooled around a bit after you left,” he said quickly.

Shayne’s scowl swiftly turned into a grin. “Finally. It’s about time the two of ye stopped acting like idiots.” After a moment, his happiness turned into confusion. “I don’t see how messing around would upset her…...ye didn’t hurt her, did ye, lad?”

“No, but I may have um, inadvertently guaranteed that her date was not going to, um,” he cleared his throat, “want to take her out.”

“She had a date?” Shayne asked, sounding even more confused.

Tristan returned his gaze to a menu and nodded.

“I don’t understand. What did ye do? Did ye wait around and explain to the other lad that ye were seeing Marty?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, what the hell did ye do?” Shayne snapped, clearly aggravated.

Tristan mumbled his response.

“What?”

“I marked her.”

For a moment Shayne was too stunned to respond. “Ye marked her, lad? Like with a pen?”

Tristan chuckled. “You could say that I laid my claim with a kiss.”

“Oh, ye sly bastard,” Shayne said, smirking. “I’d love to see the face of the poor bastard when he spotted that.”

“It would be pretty hard to miss,” Tristan said, chuckling.

The doorbell chime echoed throughout the house. Tristan’s grin widened. “Showtime,” he said, pushing away from the counter. The doorbell then began to ring continuously as if it was being held down, which it probably was. Then the pounding joined in, followed by her screaming threats.

“Tristan Black, you open this door right now before I break it down!” she yelled. “I am going to kick your ass!”

Chapter 12

Tristan casually leaned against the doorframe while he smiled warmly at her as if this was a pleasant visit. She inwardly scoffed at that.

This was an ass kicking!

“Why, Marty, what a surprise to see you here,” he drawled as he studied his nails. “Didn’t you have a date?”

“You,” that one word seethed with uncontrollable rage, “bastard.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Me? What did I do?”

“You….You……” She had to take a deep calming breath just to get the words out. “You gave me a,” she paused to look around, making sure that no one was within earshot and hissed, “a hickey!”

“I did?” he asked, looking thoughtful. “You’d think I’d remember something like that.” Then he shrugged as if it was no big thing.

“You marked me, you prick!”

He frowned at her. “Are you sure? Because I really can’t recall doing that.”

Her hands clenched by her sides as she prayed for patience or a baseball bat to beat his ass with, either would be welcomed at the moment. She tilted her head to the side to expose the mark. Not that she really needed to do that since no one else had seemed to be able to miss it, much to her embarrassment.

“Oh yeah, so I did. Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. No, he sounded and looked smug, very smug.

“Everyone at work saw it!” she snapped. Damn if that didn’t make him look even smugger. “Some of them asked if I had a run in with a vacuum!”

At that he laughed.

Laughed!

“It’s not funny!”

He laughed harder.

“It’s not!”

Sighing, he reached out and ran a finger over his mark. “Come on, it doesn’t look that bad.”

*-*-*-*

It did. It really did. There was no way that Hank was going to be happy about this.