by Max Monroe
“That I…love her.”
Yeah…that’s what I thought…
“What are you looking at anyway?” His eyes moved to my laptop. “Houses? Why are you looking at houses?”
Shit.
I shrugged. “I just felt like it.”
“You just felt like looking at houses?” he asked in incredulity. “The same woman who once said and I quote, Realtors must have the most boring fucking job just looking at houses all day.”
What the fuck?
Does he all of a sudden have the memory of an elephant?
No, he doesn’t. He’s a man, for fuck’s sake.
I mean, I could hardly get him to remember to put his dirty clothes in the laundry, but for some insane reason, his brain decided that this random piece of conversation from months and months ago would be a good thing to hold on to.
Fucking men, right?
At least we women are fair and cohesive in the way we remember shit.
We remember everything.
“I don’t remember saying that,” I lied. “And anyway, what are you, the fudging internet police? If I want to search houses, I’ll search houses. If I want to search pictures of the blue waffle and videos of golden showers, I’ll fucking do it.”
“Blue waffles?” he questioned, confused.
“Not plural, just the blue waffle,” I corrected. “Don’t Google it unless you want to be grossed the fluff out.”
“Noted,” he said with a look in his eyes that told me he’d be searching the blue waffle at some point in the next few hours. “So, you’re just looking at houses for fun?”
“Yep.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You’re lying. And I’m honestly a little disappointed in how poorly you’re doing it. Are you feeling okay, honey?”
I knew I needed to change my tactic and I needed to change it fast.
“Fine,” I said in a quiet voice. “I was looking at houses for us.”
“You want us to buy a house?”
“Yes,” I answered, because technically, I did want us to buy a house.
“Why do you want us to buy a house? I thought you loved the apartment and living in the city?”
“I thought maybe we could use the extra space since having Ace.”
“How many bedrooms do you think you’d want?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know…four, I guess?”
“What about bathrooms?”
Jesus. How many questions could one man ask?
I needed to distract him before I started to lose my mind. A woman could only come up with so many lies in a fifteen-minute period.
I shut my laptop and set it on the coffee table. And without wasting a second, I took off my tank top and bra, tossing them across the living room floor. I lay back on the couch and shimmied out of my shorts and panties before discarding them on the floor, too. All the while Thatch stared down at me with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Grabbing both breasts with my hands, I squeezed them together and pinched the nipples as I looked up at my husband and licked across my bottom lip.
“What are you doing, Crazy?”
“Playing.”
“Playing?” he asked on a near growl.
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “Want to join me?”
He didn’t even waste time with a response, hopping over the back of the couch and burying his face between my thighs.
Oh, hell yes…distractions are goooood…
“Okay, okay,” I called as soon as I walked into the room to a group of sex-deprived, crazy players. Apparently, my little talk at the beginning of the trip had scared them so much that they were afraid to look at women outside of the pageant proceedings either for fear those women would end up underage or affiliated in some way too. I appreciated their efforts, and if I was honest, found great enjoyment in it.
Nothing was better than making them suffer.
“I’m proud of you guys.”
The group groan started in the back and traveled forward until I was being booed by over forty men.
I laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, I suck, whatever.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow and sat up straighter in the front. “You’re being weird.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not. I’m being proud,” I said, and they groaned again. “You guys took something completely out of your wheelhouse and practically stamped with fucking disaster—”
“Hey!” Georgia shouted from the back, and the players laughed.
“And handled it in a way that will actually produce positive press. Probably something along the lines of ‘New York Mavericks Take Part in Miss Teen USA Pageant. No Serious Injuries Reported Despite a Close Call’.”
Raucous laughter echoed in the room as they all taunted and slapped the back of Littleton teasingly. He didn’t take it lying down, though. “Whatever. Go ahead, guys. Brag like little motherfuckers about being good in a beauty pageant. I’m sure that’ll keep your contracts signed.”
Quinn sat back in his chair and added his part as always. “That’s also a long-ass headline.”
I shook my head and looked down to Winnie, laughing from her spot in front.
My wife.
“Dr. Winslow,” I called, and she shook her head dismissively, knowing me well enough to know where this was going and hating it already.
“Come up here,” I went on, only to be backed up by a chant of the entire team. “Double U, Double U, Double U.”
She jumped up and stood beside me with a blush. Probably for no more reason than to quiet the near-deafening chant. “Wes—”
I knew she’d be nervous about telling the team, but there was no way in fuck I was going to work my entire career pretending she wasn’t my wife. She’d always be the team physician first in the facility and have my utmost respect, but I loved her, I’d married her, and I wanted everyone to know.
“I’m happy. I want all of them to know,” I explained, and within a second, her face was as soft as butter. She nodded her acceptance, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Want to let us in on your meeting?” Fletcher asked, and I just barely stopped myself from flipping him off. But that definitely wouldn’t be professional. So I’d do it the next time I saw Kline and Thatch, even if I didn’t have a reason. Sort of like an “IOFU.”
“We’ve got news,” I announced bluntly, and a hush fell over the group, rolling from front to back like a wave.
Some of their faces dropped as they looked on and took in the tone of my voice. It was serious. At least, as serious as I could manage when a one-thousand-watt smile was making a bid to escape.
“Last night, I asked Winnie to marry me.”
“Oh, shit,” someone yelled in the back. “I bet she said no.”
I shook my head, and Winnie talked over them. “There was no asking. You just put the ring on my finger.”
“Owee!” Quinn yelled, and I laughed at his charm. God, some woman was going to be in a whole hell of a lot of trouble with him.
“And we got married this morning,” I finished. For several long beats, I thought no one would say anything. But when they all got over looking at each other in shock, surprise, or for some, outright knowing, I could barely hear myself think, the crowd noise was so loud.
“Pooh’s married?” Sean Phillips yelled over the hum with a boatload of faux drama. “To you?”
Quinn jumped from his seat and ran to the front before slinging an arm around my shoulders and wrapping the other inappropriately around my waist. “He’s a catch!” he shouted to the delight of the now-rowdy crowd. “I’d thought we’d be together one day!” he went on.
I shoved him away and shook my head all at once as Winnie stepped under my arm to reclaim her territory.
“Hands off, Bailey.”
Quinn’s smile was contagious as he sank back into his seat and collected several backslaps from his closest teammates.
“Are you sure you can’t do better, Dr
. Double U?” Mitchell asked with a smirk and a wink. “He never smiles. I, on the other hand, have a perfectly white set of teeth I don’t ever put away.”
“Fake teeth,” one of the other guys muttered. “He lost all of his real ones when we played Carolina.”
Mitchell reached back to smack at the accuser, and it wasn’t long before a slap fight broke out among the whole team. It was like a room full of way-oversized teenage girls.
“All right, all right,” I yelled. “Settle down.”
“‘All right, all right, all right,’ said Matthew McConaughey,” Sean Phillips mocked.
“Everybody shut up,” I said loudly, holding my smile inside until they complied.
“Marriage has already changed him,” Quinn stage-whispered as happiness took over my face at the feel of my wife’s body shaking in laughter against mine.
“Again, I’m proud of you guys. You managed to stay out of trouble this week.”
“We’re angels,” a guy in the back offered, and I nearly choked on my laugh.
“Right. Well, if you’re angels, prove it by being them tonight too. It’s our last night, and there are no sanctioned activities to keep you out of trouble.”
“We’ll be good,” Sean Phillips assured, but given who he was related to and the look on his face, it wasn’t reassuring at all.
“Right.” I shrugged. “If you’re not, you’ll be off the team.”
Faces melted their humor and settled on serious—a sign it was time to move on. I let loose the smile I was holding in again.
“Now congratulate us.”
Up and out of their seats, the whole room jumped into motion, their hoots and hollers surely heard all the way down the hall.
Quinn scooped Lexi out of the way of the advancing men and settled her on his shoulders as the weight of the team converged around me and her mother.
Wrapped in the arms of everything I’d created on my own, I pulled Winnie close and kissed her lips as I pictured everything we’d be able to do together.
My thigh tingled as Wes kneaded the flesh underneath my freshly placed napkin, and I studied the green lean of tonight’s perfect hazel eyes. They favored blue when he wore white, black, and steely blue-grays, but tonight’s light plumy purple made each green note scream. I smiled as the completely ridiculous notion that his changing eyes meant I had the next best thing to a vampire a woman could get whispered through my mind.
He certainly has the suction going for him.
“Awww, look at all of the happy couples,” Dean greeted as he walked toward our table, pulling all of our moony eyes away from our significant others. At least, I assumed the others were deeply ensconced in the depths of PDA too. They sure as hell hadn’t been trying to talk to us, anyway.
All six of us were dressed up and sitting together at the fine dining restaurant inside Atlantis for a group dinner—without kids—to celebrate our last night in the Bahamas. A good-bye dinner of sorts.
Dean’s arms were locked with two extremely tall and attractive men who seemed oddly content at just being at his side. Given the heavy starch content in his freshly pressed dress shirt and the blind devotion of his two random minions, I was starting to wonder if Dean delved into some Dom/sub kind of scenarios on the down low.
“Oh, look who it is,” Georgia singsonged with a smile. “I completely forgot that you were even on this trip with us. I’m guessing you’ve been pretty busy with things?”
She took the words right from my mind like some kind of brain-sucking zombie. I could literally count on two fingers the number of times I’d seen Dean on this trip, and the first time was on the plane ride down.
“He looks like he’s been more than busy,” Cassie chimed in. “I’d say he’s been stuffed full of activities since he stepped off the plane.”
“Oh no, honey,” Dean declared. “I do the stuffing.”
“You’re a top?”
Dean winked. “Something like that.”
“I knew that already,” Georgia gloated coquettishly, and Kline shook his head.
Cassie let out a low whistle. “Well, hot damn—”
“You want to join us for dinner tonight?” I interrupted in hopes that we’d veer the topic of discussion before it got out of hand. I could tell by the look in Cassie’s eyes that she was ready to take us straight to the dirty stuff.
Dean grinned. “See? I knew you would eventually take Georgia’s place as my favorite girl.”
“Hey!” Georgia exclaimed. “I take offense to that.”
“Good.”
“You should feel really bad, you know,” Georgia added. “Being mean to a pregnant lady like that. I’m in a delicate state. You should be—”
“Hold the phone.” Dean held up a hand. “Pregnant?” He looked at Kline. “You fertilized her egg? Found her a roommate? Put a bun in her oven?”
“I did,” Kline answered with a proud smile as the rest of us laughed. He wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders and tucked her close to his side, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her forehead.
Dean’s eyes found Georgia’s, and his voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. “My little girl is all knocked up?”
Georgia’s face lit up. “I am.”
“Oh my God!” Dean exclaimed and quickly left his two friends to walk around the table and pull Georgia away from her husband and into his arms. “I’m so happy for you, sweetie,” he said quietly as he hugged her tight. “So fucking happy for you. Congratulations.”
Georgia’s face beamed. “Thank you.”
He let her go and helped her back into her seat. “When we get back to New York, we are going baby crazy. I demand it. But, fucking hell, it better be a girl. I need crimson lips and plastic kitten heels. Not goddamn hooded sweatshirts.”
“Deal,” she agreed as Thatch objected to even a hint of derision toward the sex of his child.
“Hey!” he contested. “Boys are just as good as girls.”
Cassie put a hand to his lips and told it like it was. “Sorry, honey. He’s right. Boy clothes are shit.”
Dean inclined his head as if to say, “See?” I laughed deep in my throat, and Dean’s eyes came back to me. “Okay, never mind, Win. Georgia is still my best girl.”
My waning laugh waxed again as I waved my hand in the air. My left hand. “Whatever, diva. I see how it is.”
He tilted his head to the side, eyes alert and zooming in farther and farther by the second.
Playful to high-pitched, his voice transformed in an instant. “What is that?”
“What is what?” I feigned confusion, but I pulled my hand to my chest rather than concealing it in my lap.
He put a hand to his hip and tapped a Prada toe. “That giant glittery pretty rock sitting on your left ring finger is what, Wedded Deceiver.”
I held my hand in the air again and wiggled my fingers. “Oh, you mean this?”
He laughed. “Um…Fuck yes, I mean that.”
“Well…” I looked at Wes and smiled, but I was no match for my husband’s excitement.
“We got married,” the thunder stealer remarked easily.
“Wait a minute…I was thinking fucking engaged. You’re already married?”
“Yeah,” Wes responded, but his eyes were still on mine.
“Jesus Christ, you heteros move motherfucking fast.”
Wes chuckled and winked right at me. “The second she said yes I didn’t want to give her any time to rethink her decision.”
“Planning on fucking up soon?” Dean teased. “Trapping her into marriage beforehand?”
I grinned, and my husband pulled my left hand into both of his and lifted it toward his mouth to softly kiss the finger that held the symbol of our forever commitment.
“God, there is almost too much love occurring at this table right now,” Dean grumbled and pretended to gag. “Hurry up, Cass. Do something crazy before this starts to go to my head. At this rate, I might wake up tomorrow morning pregnant with Elton John’s baby or so
mething.”
“Pretty sure you’d need a pussy to accomplish that,” Cassie retorted. “And Elton John.”
“He’s in the room,” Dean retorted immediately.
When we all stared, he burst out laughing.
“Not really. Jesus. Look at all of you.”
“He’s your ultimate?”
“Um…of course, he’s my ultimate,” Dean responded with attitude. “Have you heard ‘Tiny Dancer’? ‘Your Song’? Believe me, that man is my dreamboat. He’ll know it one day too.”
Wes pretended to cough. “I hear Thatch gives lessons on stalking.”
Thatch flipped him off.
“What about them?” Georgia asked, pointing to the two men Dean had strolled up with, who were now just waiting patiently for him outside the restaurant.
“Oh, them? They’re just my fuck buddies. Current fuck buddies. They’re working at about seventy-five percent, compared to what I’m calling the Love Boat Rendezvous,” he answered without a second thought. “You don’t marry those kind of men. You fuck them. You let them suck—”
Georgia held up a hand. “Yeah. Okay. We get it.”
Dean smirked. “Speaking of sucking, I’m going to leave you guys to enjoy your last dinner in the Bahamas and your lovey-dovey bubble of marriage and babies and dreamy sighs and swoony eyes.”
“And what are you going to do?” Georgia asked naïvely, and Cassie snorted in laughter.
“What do you think he’s going to do, Wheorgie?”
Georgia’s eyes went wide. “Oh, never mind. Keep the details to yourself and wear a condom.”
“Or condoms,” Cassie added kindly.
Dean pointed to her and winked. “I like where your head’s at, crazy girl.”
“Are you flying home with us tomorrow morning?” Kline asked, always on top of the logistics. The rest of us could be blind from pornographic exposure, and Kline would still have the awareness to make sure the actors were getting paid enough.
“Yep,” Dean answered. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning, bright and early.” He moved around the table giving everyone hugs—and probably lingering a little too long with Thatch and Wes. Although, Thatch just grinned and took it all in his normal stride, wrapping his arms around Dean and hugging him so tightly his feet left the floor.