Chapter 7
“Thought you’d be snoring away between the sheets.” Then came a huff. “As snug as a bug in a rug.”
Justiss’s first words had him grimacing. “Nowhere else I’d rather be. And you’re a biker, dude. Bikers don’t say s**t like ‘as snug as a bug in a rug.’”
The smirk on his brother’s face would have annoyed the hell out of him if they hadn’t always been close. Plus, he could sense that Justiss was pleased for him, not jealous. The man suited the name. Hell, it was why they’d nicknamed him that all those years ago.
No bear was fairer than Justiss, which was why it sucked so f*****g hard that Jefferson had made a laughingstock out of him.
“The very fact I’m a biker means I can say whatever bullcrap I want, and only other bikers dare pull me up on it.” Justiss took a shot at the pool
