by Penny Reid
Of course, their youngest was now fifteen, so mostly I was thinking of my kids when I said the backyard was nice. Long story short, we would be here all day.
When we arrived, Greg was out back telling one of his big fish stories to a rapt audience that consisted of Alex, Matt, Drew—who was manning the barbecue—Nico, Quinn, Desmond, and some kid, maybe sixteen or seventeen, that I didn’t recognize.
Kat went inside to visit with her knitting ladies while I stayed outside to keep an eye on the kids. Mostly, I was keeping an eye on DJ, making sure he didn’t roll himself in the mud. Covers my scent, he’d say.
I swear, this kid.
I turned my attention to Greg’s story.
“She considered the raccoon to be her raccoon?” Matt looked totally confused as he asked Greg this question.
Greg took a swig from his beer. “Mmm. That’s right. But you have to understand, where I lived, this woman was a crackhead. It was a three-story complex with one big, shared backyard. Ms. Jenner—”
“The crackhead?” Alex sought to clarify.
“Yes. Though I doubt she listed, Ms. Jenner, Crackhead, on her résumé. Anyway, as I was saying, Ms. Jenner considered the raccoon to be her raccoon. So when she came home one fateful morning at 3:00 AM and found the raccoon on the second floor balcony, well . . . she was displeased.”
“What did she do?” Drew asked, but the way he asked gave me the impression he was afraid to find out.
“She put out a bag of sugar at first, in an attempt to lure the animal.”
“Sugar?” Nico glanced at Drew. “Just a little bag of sugar?”
“No. A five-pound bag. The raccoon was not impressed. She then used found objects in the yard to build a stairway of sorts to the second balcony. This is when I was awoken. She’d fallen off a garbage can, causing a ruckus outside my window.”
“Was she okay?” Quinn asked.
“As well as can be expected, given it was 3:00 AM and she was a crackhead in deep despair over the appropriation of her beloved raccoon. But let me finish the story. When I came outside—mind you, I was sixteen, newly arrived from Mayfair—I found Ms. Jenner setting up the garbage can again in an effort to climb up to the second floor balcony. Immediately, I realized her error.”
Quinn and Alex traded looks and I asked, “You stopped her from climbing?”
“No. Certainly not. I realized she’d been trying to climb on the garbage can without a lid. She was attempting to balance herself just on the rim. I flipped it over for her and held the base so she could use a hula hoop to reach the raccoon.”
This was the best and the worst story I’d ever heard, and I couldn’t wait to find out how it ended. “Did it work?”
“It didn’t. The raccoon climbed down the waterspout, grabbed a handful of sugar, and made off into the night like the little ninja bandit that it was. Meanwhile, the owner of the second story unit became enraged, jumped down from the balcony wielding a katana, and bit Ms. Jenner on the kneecap.”
“The kneecap?” Nico asked, as though the placement of the bite was the strangest part of the story.
Alex seemed to be the only one who didn’t look confused.
“What are the chances of trying to trap a wild animal, and being bit by your sword-wielding neighbor instead?” Matt asked Drew.
The big man shrugged.
I answered, “In Boston, pretty high.”
This earned me some laughs.
“Hey, Dan.” Matt pointed at me with his beer. “Are you and Kat still coming to Marie’s birthday party?”
“Yeah. Kat has already pulled our Hogwarts robes out of the attic.”
“I still can’t believe you’re a Hufflepuff.” Nico clinked his beer against mine. “Marie and I were the only Hufflepuffs until you took the test.”
“Was anyone surprised to find out Kat was a Slytherin?” Alex asked the group, grinning at me. “For the record, I was not.”
“That’s because you’re a Slytherin. You people recognize each other.” Greg grabbed another beer, popping off the top.
“You people? What are you talking about? You’re a Slytherin.” Quinn gave Greg an irritated look and then shook his head, mumbling to himself, “Why are we having this conversation? What are we, ten?”
Greg ignored Quinn’s mumbled statement, saying, “I’m allowed to call myself you people. Prerogative of the pejorative.”
“Hey guys!”
We all turned towards the sound of the voice, finding Fiona and Janie leaning out of the kitchen window. “Where are the kids?”
Now we all turned towards the lawn, finding the backyard empty.
Meanwhile, Greg called back to his wife, “They’re in the workshop, probably. Don’t worry, Jack and Ava are supervising.”
I’d never say it out loud, but his assurances didn’t do much to ease my mind. I felt like every day since DJ had been born I’d been one step ahead of him from blowing up the neighborhood.
Fiona looked like she wanted to push the issue, but before she could, I volunteered, “I’ll check on them.” Then to the guys I said, “I’ll be right back, just want to put eyes on the boy.”
Quinn set his beer down. “I’ll come with. I haven’t seen Natalie in a while.”
As we walked to the workshop, I heard the unknown teenager ask Drew about a huge, nasty-looking scar on his arm, and Desmond say proudly, “Oh, that? Drew got that from a black bear.”
Quinn and I traded a look, both of us laughing as we walked away.
“Hey.” I tossed my thumb over my shoulder. “Who is that kid? The one who just asked Drew about his bear scar.”
Quinn rubbed his hand over his face, like either the question or the answer made him tired. “That’s Ava’s boyfriend.”
I stopped, needing a minute, and then began walking again. “Ava, as in the youngest of Fiona and Greg’s kids, has a boyfriend?”
“Yeah, don’t get me started.” Quinn rubbed his face. “Desmond has been acting like a shithead since he found out.”
“Why would Desmond care if . . .” I glanced at Quinn.
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Oh!” I laughed. “That’s beat. Poor Desmond.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“I don’t know.” I thought about the very first moment I’d laid eyes on Kat and how I’d not been able to move past her in those two wasted years before we were thrown into an inconvenient marriage. And Desmond had known Ava his whole life. “Are they even old enough for this kind of stuff?”
“Dummy, they’re fifteen.”
“So?”
Quinn shook his head, saying nothing.
Upon walking into the workshop, we smelled a faint odor. A chemical sort of smell. If I had to describe it, I’d say it was a fragrant bouquet of rose hips, cedar, metal vapor, a drop of chlorine, and a touch of cancer.
Glancing around, I spotted my kids by the entrance, stacking smooth, sanded wooden blocks to make a tower. Most of the young kids were also messing with the play blocks. But I also spotted the origin of the smell.
“What the f—” Quinn and I both started to say, and stopped ourselves in unison. Children were present. I’d had to curtail my colorful language when Eleanor’s first word turned out to be fuck. Before you ask, yes. Kat wrote it down in her baby book.
Our voices must’ve carried, because Jack—who’d been facing the action with his arms crossed—twisted at the waist.
I waved him over. “Hey Jack, come over here.”
He did, jogging the few feet. “What’s up?”
“Is . . .” I glanced behind him again, making sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me. Sure enough, at the far end of the workshop, where the big garage-style door stood open for ventilation, was Ava in a Speedglas helmet leaning over Rose—Elizabeth and Nico’s oldest—who was also in a Speedglas helmet. Rose’s helmet was kid-sized.
“Is Rose welding?”
Jack nodded. “Yes.”
“These fumes can’t be good for the ki
ds.” I motioned to the little ones by the door where we were standing.
“That’s why we have the big fans, see?” Jack pointed to two big shop fans blowing air out of the workshop. “And we opened the workshop door.”
Quinn and I looked at each other before he asked, “Does her dad know she’s welding?”
Jack blinked at Quinn, his expression blank. “If she doesn’t learn to weld here, she’ll just learn it on the streets.”
I lifted an eyebrow at the kid. “Street welding? That’s a thing?”
“Very dangerous. An epidemic sweeping the nation,” he said, completely straight-faced.
I snorted a laugh. This fucking kid. Just like his dad.
**Kat**: Meanwhile…
“What are you knitting?”
I turned my work and held it up so Sandra could see.
“Oh! It’s that poncho by Olive Knits, isn’t it? I love the color.” Sandra used her thumb and forefinger to feel the texture of the yarn. “So soft.”
“Thank you. I found this indie dyer online, Highland Handmades, and her superwash merino is my favorite.”
“Is this worsted weight?” Ashley picked up the label next to me and then gasped happily. “It is worsted! I love it.”
“This green is my favorite.” Sandra was petting the two additional balls of yarn in my knitting bag. “Does she have any left?”
“Sadly, no. I bought her out.”
Sandra’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have any extra?”
I shifted my knitting bag closer to my side and out of her reach. “Go fondle your own fiber, Sandra.”
Elizabeth, who was sitting on my left curled up next to me, began to shake with silent laughter.
Janie held up the ball she was using for her crochet project. “Here. You can stick your finger in my ball. But I warn you, it’s acrylic.”
Sandra made a face like Janie’s yarn was made of cockroaches, Ashley gave a little shiver of revulsion, while Fiona laughed. “You two are terrible. These hats are for infants. Acrylic is a great yarn for baby hats.”
Fiona was on her seventeenth baby hat for the year, Grace—Fiona’s oldest daughter—was on her twentieth, and Janie was on her twenty-sixth. Natalie, Janie and Quinn’s youngest, had been born prematurely. Janie had gone nuts for the first few weeks, feeling like she couldn’t do anything while her infant daughter was in the NICU, so Fiona had suggested we all crochet and knit infant hats for the hospital.
Now, whenever any of us were in between projects or had just about 100 yards of worsted weight yarn to use, we knit a baby hat.
“Okay,” Sandra stood and walked to the center of the room, “I want to ask everyone’s opinion about something.”
“Great.” Ashley tried to hide her smirk behind a pained sounding sigh.
“Here we go.” Marie rolled her lips between her teeth, clearly fighting to keep her face straight.
“I can’t wait!” Grace set her knitting down and skootched to the end of her seat, looking up at Sandra with excitement.
Sandra placed her hands on her hips, glaring at each of us. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“You know,” Elizabeth sighed sadly, “Rose wants to learn how to knit soon. So we might not get a chance to have these ‘Sandra’ conversations for much longer.”
“Is it about edible condoms? Because we’ve already covered that.” Ashley’s voice was perfectly flat.
“But was it covered in enough detail?” Elizabeth gave Sandra an encouraging look. “Because, if memory serves, Sandra only made it through the fruit and vegetable flavors.”
“And sex robots.” Fiona shook her head. “Don’t forget about the sex robots.”
“Did I miss that one?” Grace asked her mother.
“It was before you started knitting,” she answered, then under her breath added, “thank God.”
“That was Marie, not me.” Sandra pointed at Marie.
Marie chuckled, admitting sheepishly, “That was me.”
“Okay, fine, out with it.” Ashley waved her hand in the air impatiently, “What is it this time? Sex cruises?”
“They have those?” Elizabeth sat up.
Marie shook her head, like she was disappointed in Elizabeth’s lack of knowledge about sex cruises. “Of course they have those. This is the United States.”
“Holy crap! It’s none of that.” Sandra issued Marie an irritated look.
“Okay. Fine.” Fiona set down her knitting and turned a patient gaze to Sandra. “We’re sorry.”
Sandra lifted her nose, and then gave Fiona a small head-nod of acknowledgement. “Thank you.”
“Now what would you like to discuss?” I asked.
Sandra cleared her throat, gathered a deep inhale, and then asked the group, “Are any of you lovely ladies familiar with the concept of nocturnal orgasms?”
The End
Pre-order Penny Reid’s next release Dr. Strange Beard, book #5 in the Winston Brothers Series coming July 2018!
Pre-order now!
About the Author
Penny Reid lives in Seattle, Washington with her husband, three kids, and an inordinate amount of yarn. She used to spend her days writing federal grant proposals as a biomedical researcher, but now she writes books.
Published in 2018, ‘Marriage of Inconvenience’ is Penny’s 17th novel.
Come find me-
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Read on for: Penny Reid’s Booklist (current and planned publications)
Other books by Penny Reid
Knitting in the City Series
(Contemporary Romantic Comedy)
Neanderthal Seeks Human: A Smart Romance (#1)
Neanderthal Marries Human: A Smarter Romance (#1.5)
Friends without Benefits: An Unrequited Romance (#2)
Love Hacked: A Reluctant Romance (#3)
Beauty and the Mustache: A Philosophical Romance (#4)
Ninja at First Sight (#4.75)
Happily Ever Ninja: A Married Romance (#5)
Dating-ish: A Humanoid Romance (#6)
Marriage of Inconvenience (#7)
Winston Brothers Series
(Contemporary Romantic Comedy, spinoff of Beauty and the Mustache)
Truth or Beard (#1)
Grin and Beard It (#2)
Beard Science (#3)
Beard in Mind (#4)
Dr. Strange Beard (#5, coming 2018)
Beard with Me (#5.5, coming 2019)
Beard Necessities (#6, coming 2019)
Hypothesis Series
(New Adult Romantic Comedy)
Elements of Chemistry: ATTRACTION, HEAT, and CAPTURE (#1)
Laws of Physics: MOTION, SPACE, and TIME (#2, coming 2018)
Fundamentals of Biology: STRUCTURE, EVOLUTION, and GROWTH (#3, coming 2019)
Irish Players (Rugby) Series – by L.H. Cosway and Penny Reid
(Contemporary Sports Romance)
The Hooker and the Hermit (#1)
The Pixie and the Player (#2)
The Cad and the Co-ed (#3)
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