King (Alliance #2)

Nero, the dog and I all look up to see Payton as she climbs down the stairs toward us.

“Still counts as going,” is Nero’s retort.

Payton rolls her eyes, “One of the other dog dads said hello to me, and Nero decided we would never go again.” She stops next to her husband and smiles at me. “Hey, King.”

“Hey, Coconut.”

Nero punches me in the shoulder, hard. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you to stop calling her that?”

“At least once more, apparently.” I rub at the spot even as Payton smacks his chest. “Or you could quit being such a little bitch, and let it go.”

A few months ago, I was over for a dinner and Payton mentioned that she never had a nickname growing up, and since it’s a well-known fact that Payton’s favorite drink is a coconut honey latte, her nickname was born.

It’s stupid but Payton thought it was funny, and it helped her to stop being so scared of me.

Plus, it’s a fun little bonus that it gives Nero an aneurysm every time I say it.

“How about I give your wife a cute little nickname,” Nero growls. “See how you like it.”

“Wife?” Payton’s eyes widen.

And mine do too when I realize he hasn’t told her yet.

“How about something like…” Nero taps his finger against his lower lip.

“What do you mean wife?” Payton’s looking between us.

Nero holds his finger up. “Motel.”

“Motel?” I step into him. “If you call Savannah––”

“See?” He shoves a finger into my chest. “You don’t like it either.”

I slap his hand away. “Motelisn’t acute little nickname. It sounds like you’re calling my wife a whore.” I jab my own finger into his chest. “I already punched one man today for disrespecting her. Wanna make it two?”

I was already spoiling for a fight, and I came over here to calm down. But if he tries to push any more of my buttons, I’m gonna deck him.

“Would love to see you try,” he taunts, and I’m about to do it, when I’m stopped by pebbles.

A handful of multicolored glass pebbles striking us both.

As I’m sure was the purpose, we stop arguing and turn toward Nero’s annoyed wife.

“Alright,” Payton says, one hand propping Toto up on her hip, like a toddler, the other hand in a clear vase filled with the colorful pebbles. “Will you two stop bickering for two minutes and tell me what exactly you mean when you sayKing’s wife?”

“King got married,” Nero states it like he’s getting one up on me.

Payton gasps, turning to me. “What? When?”

I cross my arms. “Ask your husband. He officiated.”

Nero glares at me as Payton whirls on him.

“You’re ordained?” Her voice is higher than usual when she asks this, and I’m almost tempted to laugh.

Nero sighs. “So, technically, yes. But that’s only because this dickhead,” he gestures to me, “forged the paperwork.”

“When?”