Discovering Dalton (Manchester Menage Collection #2) Read Free

bucket in between them. Troy was a super star. This was just what Liam needed after spending all day cooped up and sweating it out in the gym.
    “I closed early. Too hot in that small room to work. The sweat blinded me as I was bending over inking the last guy. I need air con, man. I lost a stone in weight this morning.”
    “Slight exaggeration, T. You should do what I do for a living. Now that’s fucking hard, and H.O.T.” Liam failed to mention the expensive air conditioning at work, and he glanced at Troy, seeing he wouldn’t fail to bring it up at all.
    “You have air con,” Troy threw back at him with a hard glare. “And what I do ain’t easy, Liam.”
    “Fine. Put some of your barely there profits from Living Ink into an air con unit then. I'm sure there’s some cheap secondhand ones you can get.” Liam knew his foster brother had talent and worked hard. Not many people who worked as a tattooist had his artistic flair and eye for detail, and also owed their own business. Liam just liked giving him shit about it.
    “Yeah.” Troy drained his bottle then grabbed another.
    Something was up. Liam could read Troy’s moods like his own after so long together, and he guessed by the row of beer bottles on the floor and the empty pack of twenty cigarettes crushed on the table, it was something to do with the prick he’d been seeing. “So…” Liam trailed off purposely because they both knew what was coming.
    Troy shook his head as he snapped the lid off his beer. “Not now.”
    “Is it about what’s his name?” Liam really didn’t like saying his name. Troy thought it was because he never paid attention or took anything in when they talked, but Liam always listened. He listened to everything Troy said, he always had done. “Come on.” He kicked the lounger Troy was lying on and got a grunt back in response. Liam drank half his beer, then grabbed a handful of ice from the bucket and rubbed it all over Troy’s hot flesh, his shout of obscenities filling the terrace.
    “Fuck off, Liam.”
    “So, was it really the summer heat knocking it out of you, or has that two face shit fucked off?”
    “I really hate you.”
    “Sometimes.”
    “No.” Troy sat up, brushing off the icy water and lifting his sunglasses to his forehead, green eyes weighing heavily on Liam. “I would say more than sometimes, like, possibly even all the time.” He half grinned, then, before Liam could do anything to stop it, Troy tipped the ice bucket over his head. Liam was drenched and the sound of his yelps and whines were deafening him until he shook the bucket off his head, seeing Troy running for it.
    “You little shit!” Liam was up and running after him. The last thing he saw of Troy was the bathroom door slamming shut and the lock being slid shut.
    “Do not kick this door down… again.” Troy yelled through the door.
    “I'm gonna get you back for that. Just you wait.”
    “I'm waiting.” Troy laughed hard as soon as he said it, but Liam’s foot connecting with the door made him shut up. “Do not break this door, Liam. I mean it.”
    “Fine, but you need to get out, I want a shower.”
    “I'm having one. Go use your own.”
    “I prefer this one, it’s bigger. You’re the smaller out of us two. You're supposed to use the ensuite.”
    “It’s in your bedroom, dickhead. Hence why you should use it.”
    “Hence? What’s with the snobby word? Hence forth I shall be known as Lord Troy. Master of Ink and Beer. Lord of skiving off work by using pathetic excuses.” Liam grinned at the long groan he got back. “I knew I should’ve held out for the other bedroom.”
    He stormed off to his room, discarding his jogging pants to the floor before starting up the shower, cold and fresh, much like the bucket of ice Troy just poured over him. After a long hot day in a sweaty gym, that bucket of ice felt damn good, not that he’d tell Troy that though.
    Stepping into the cramped cubicle, Liam huffed loudly, thinking back