The Money Maker

Chapter 9

Nicola is the first to pounce, pulling away from the doorway that she'd just been leaning against, two glasses of wine in hand and a look of pity in her eyes. "'Cause I know how this family can be," she winks, directing her attention to Zayn.

"Hot ride," she teases Liam, lightly jabbing her elbow into his arm.

Liam gulps, face flushing a deep red as he jerkily shifts on his feet, looking first at his wine glass, then the kitchen tile floor. Anywhere other than... what had she called him? His 'hot ride'?

Just the thought and Liam can feel his cheeks burning almost purple.

"The car, Liam," Nicola leans in, letting out a little chuckle as she processes Liam's thoughts. "I meant the Subaru. Didn't take you for such a mum."

She gives him a little pat on his (still-burning) cheek, barking out a laugh as she continues, "But glad to know you think of him as your ride, too."

Liam means to spit something back, something about how he thought his Range Rover might be a bit suspicious in their driveway. But instead, the words come out in a throaty croak. "Not—my hot ride."

Zayn's practically vibrating next to Liam, giggles almost bursting from his mouth. He's filtered some of the sound by pressing his palm over his lips, but it's a poor attempt, really, only catching portions of his laugh. And there's a slight tinge to his cheeks, but at this point, he seems less concerned about what Liam's insinuated and more focused on not spilling his wine, the alcohol sloshing in his glass from the laughter taking over his whole body.

"Whatever you say, Li," Nicola taunts, quirking her eyebrows before jetting into the main area of the kitchen, not even giving Liam the chance to open his mouth to reply.

Liam's eyes dart to Zayn, his head practically snapping from the rushed movement.

Looking a bit sheepish when he sees Liam's eyebrows drawn together, his pout drooping down his face, Zayn forces himself to slide his bottom lip into his mouth. He makes sure his laughter has completely wilted in his throat before he pauses. But instead of apologizing, he shrugs, taking one step forward. He gives Liam a sly grin as he does so, a glint in his eye. "Hey, I'm the one that has to be here, so it's only fair, really, that I get to see you squirm a bit." With a wink, he swings his hips directly in front of Liam as if to mime the squirming. Lifting his glass just slightly, he drags out the rotation, seemingly enjoying knowing that Liam's eyes are glued to his ass before following Nicola out of the entry without another word.

Liam swallows hard, having to drag his gaze away from where Zayn had been just a moment before. Having to drag his thoughts away from his hand finding the curve of Zayn's ass, sliding further down as he mouths desperately at his neck. And it's not fair, not really. That such a simple movement could twist his mind into such a clusterfuck of thoughts and images, his body following close behind.

Liam doesn't mean to. He really doesn't. But three or four drinks in–he's lost count, really–any worry he'd had has now morphed to a warmth pulsing through his muscles, draping his thoughts in a dull glow. And his tongue is loose against his teeth, throwing out words faster than his brain can process them.

And when Ruth finally takes her doting off of Liam and his new tattoos, he's grateful for the shift of attention. Turning to Zayn, the dreadful words fall from her mouth, the topic the two of them had been avoiding, hoping it would never have to be uttered again: how they met.