by Freya Barker
When Damian suggests he and Kerry call it a night, Marya grumbles and starts digging around her purse for her phone.
“You’re drunk,” Kerry states, pointing her finger in her friend’s direction.
“I’m buzzed,” Marya corrects her, finally unearthing her phone. “Which is exactly my objective. While you all get chauffeured home by your man candy, I can pretend the seventy-two-year-old Sikh driver who’ll be Ubering me home is Jason Momoa.”
“We’ll drive you home,” Kerry offers, and Damian quickly agrees.
“I’ll take you,” Dylan, who’s mostly been a quiet observer, suddenly offers. “I may not be Jason Momoa, but I’m sure I can get you there.”
Marya is far from subtle as she looks him over thoroughly, before getting up from her seat, a little wobbly. “Oh, honey—I’m sure you can get me there too.”
I’m still snickering at the sight of Dylan blushing right to his roots, when Ouray pulls the Traverse in the garage.
“Did you see that?” I ask Ouray for what may be the tenth time. He just looks at me with one eyebrow raised, before getting out and coming around to offer me a stable arm. God knows I need it because my legs feel like Jell-O.
The house is oddly quiet, I’m getting used to Jack’s excited greetings every time one of us comes home, but tonight he and Ahiga stayed over with Momma and Nosh.
“I don’t wanna go to bed yet,” I announce when Ouray guides me straight to the stairs.
“No?”
“No, I feel like watching a Jason Momoa move.”
I’m laughing when he tosses me over his shoulder—growling—and carries me upstairs.
OURAY
Minx.
I leave her giggling on the bed to quickly hop in the shower.
She’s sexy as fuck, but I’ve tried to keep my distance—giving her some space since our trip to Monticello—and I sure as hell won’t take advantage of her when she’s drunk.
That’s why I’m in the shower jacking off to the sound of her laughter.
She definitely had a good time tonight. Don’t think she’s ever had much of a posse—given her history—so it’s nice to see her let loose with the girls. Even surrounded by fucking cops, I managed to have a good time myself. It’s rare I do anything without my brothers, but I guess it doesn’t hurt every now and then.
I’m surprised to find Luna still awake, and the moment I crawl in beside her, she snuggles up.
“I wanna do this every week.”
I grin. “We’ll see. Maybe hold off any decisions until tomorrow morning.”
She huffs, and with the next breath announces, “My stomach hurts.”
“Already? That doesn’t usually happen ‘til the morning after.” I receive a sharp little finger in my ribs. “Ouch.”
“From laughing. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much.”
“That’s a good thing,” I point out.
“Yeah...I didn’t see you laughing much, though. You and Damian looked kinda serious there for a while.”
Her fingers trail almost absently through my chest hair as she talks.
“He was telling me about the deal Britney made this past week, rolling over on her own father to catch a lesser charge.”
I swallow down a hiss when she flicks my nipple with her nail. Slowly her hand moves down to the elastic of my boxer briefs.
“Always thought she was a nasty piece of work.”
I have a hard time keeping my mind on the conversation when she’s slowly torturing me. So much for busting a nut in the shower.
“I was surprised you didn’t tell me,” I persist.
“I’ve decided I want to keep work and home separate,” she announces, just as the tip of her finger brushes the crown of my cock, making the sweat break out on my forehead.
Sweet Jesus.
“Right,” I start in a last-ditch effort to enforce restraint. “So what do you figure Britney will end up doing for time?”
Suddenly she surges up and straddles my legs, while shoving her hand down my boxers, wrapping it firmly around my cock. Leaning forward with her nose almost touching mine, she slurs, “You wanna talk about Britney or do you wanna have drunk sex? I hear it’s the best”
I give up.
“You gotta ask?”
DRUNK SEX IS THE FUCKING best.
I let Luna wear herself out—wildly bouncing on my cock—before I took over and with slightly better-coordinated, deep, powering strokes drove both of us over the edge. She was asleep within seconds, softly snoring, while I lay beside her, panting like a lizard on a hot rock.
This morning she still hasn’t moved and I carefully slide out of bed. Downstairs I get coffee going before heading back up with a handful of ibuprofen and a bottle of water. Pretty sure she’s going to feel it when she wakes up, so I leave those on the nightstand before hopping in the shower.
A few minutes later, the shower door slides open and a rough-looking Luna gets in, planting her face in my chest. Automatically my arms close around her, stroking a hand up and down her spine.
“Don’t breathe so loud,” she mumbles, and I have to bite the inside of my lip not to burst out laughing.
“I’ll try,” I whisper. “So I guess next week is out?”
“Ahhh,” she moans dramatically. “Never again.”
“Did you take the pills and down the bottle?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure they’ll stay down.”
“Just breathe in through your nose and you’ll be fine.”
She lets me wash her limp body and knotted hair, before I wrap her in one of the new towels, big enough to swallow her up.
“I feel a little better,” she admits, sitting her butt down on the toilet as I hand her toothbrush to her.
“Good. Get dressed, I’ll get going on some breakfast.”
She groans, but ten minutes later she’s sitting at the kitchen island, scarfing down bacon and scrambled eggs with cheese. Nothing like a greasy breakfast to settle the stomach after a wild night. I know that from experience.
JACK COMES BOUNDING up to the SUV when I pull up to the clubhouse. Ahiga is not far behind, wrapping his arms around Luna the moment she gets out, and she kisses the top of his head.
Something special happened between these two on that baseball field in Monticello. They’d already been tight, but their bond transformed that day into something much deeper. Watching them together, arms around each other as they walk into the clubhouse—it feels like a balloon inflating in my chest.
I close my eyes, feeling filled to the brim.
“Found yourself a family.” I look up to see Momma leaning in the doorway, a soft smile on her face.
“Seems that way.” My voice sounds a little gruff, so I clear my throat and walk up to her.
“My boy,” she says, putting her cool hands on my cheeks. “I been prayin’ every night since the day you walked into my kitchen—full of piss ’n vinegar but with a heart bigger than the sun—that there’d be a day I could read the happy off your face.” She brushes a thumb under my eye. “And there it is.”
EPILOGUE
LUNA
(3 months later)
IT’S LIKE ONE-STOP shopping.
We picked up our marriage license five minutes ago, and now I’m standing in the hallway outside a small room, watching as Momma slicks back the hair of a very nervous Ahiga.
This was a very last minute turn of events.
Today of all days, the region is hit with a major snowstorm. Luckily Nosh was up early and alerted us immediately when he saw conditions outside, and all five of us—Ahiga had asked Momma and Nosh to be here too—piled into the Traverse ten minutes later. It had been a stressful trip, with cars in ditches everywhere. Still, we made it to Monticello just in time for our first appointment with Ahiga’s counselor at Child Services.
There we were hit with the next snag. Apparently common-law marriages aren’t recognized in the state of Utah. They are in Colorado, one of the few states
where common-law marriage is legally viewed the same as a traditional marriage. We clearly did not consider that, which is why after about two seconds of deliberation, we rushed over to the San Juan Court House on Main Street, paid thirty dollars for our marriage license, and were lucky enough the court clerk was willing to perform the ceremony right away.
I would’ve walked right into the small room with Nosh and Ouray, but the boy held me back.
Shouldn’t your dad give you away? That’s what they do in the movies.
Christ, I almost lost it.
Absolutely, but my dad isn’t here. Could you give me away?
Instead of answering, he turned to Momma and asked her if he looked okay.
So here we stand, the snow still melting off our boots, hat hair for everyone, and big silly grins on our faces. Ouray shakes his head when he sees us walking toward him, but his smile is as big as ours.
The ceremony is so short, it takes no more time than going through the drive-thru at McDonald’s. Of course we don’t have any rings, so Nosh and Momma lend us theirs for the ceremony.
“Hold up,” Ouray says when we start walking out of the room to get to our next appointment. “I haven’t even kissed my new wife yet.”
“We’re gonna be la...mmmm.” As often happens when Ouray kisses me, I forget where I am. This time is no exception. He kisses me like a starved man.
“Ahem, Cody Tyler Washburn?”
We collectively turn to a dusty-looking court officer, who looks older than Nosh and is about two sizes too small for his uniform.
“That’s us,” Ouray rumbles.
“Judge Winfield is waiting. If you would follow me?”
He leads us down the hall to a set of large double doors, which he opens and motions us through. The courtroom is pretty intimidating, as is the massive judge scowling at us when we walk in. The one friendly face in the room is that of Ahiga’s counselor, who motions us over, and we slide in the bench beside her.
“Mr. Strongbow. Stand please.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“The original application to adopt Cody Tyler Washburn is in your name.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“However, Ms. Mangiane just informed me a second name has been added to the application.” He shoves his reading glasses up his nose and studies the forms in front of him. “A Ms. Luna Roosberg?”
“Actually, that is Mrs. Luna Roosberg-Strongbow, Your Honor,” Ouray corrects him, pointing at me.
“You’re married?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
I’ve been biting my lip every time Ouray says Your Honor. Mostly nerves, but I can only imagine what it costs him to say it time and time again with a straight face.
Judge Winfield leans over his desk and glares at him over his readers. “And how long exactly have you been married, Mr. Strongbow?”
I actually snort when I see Ouray check his watch before answering that question. “About eight minutes and twelve seconds, Your Honor.”
“Are you mocking me, Mr. Strongbow?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Your Honor.”
Twenty minutes later we walk out of the courtroom. Cody Tyler Washburn is now officially Ahiga Strongbow—our son.
“Wait one minute!”
We’re almost to the SUV when the counselor, Ms. Mangiane, comes running down the steps after us.
“Things have been so crazy, I was going to mention this before, Skip Chafin was convicted on two counts of aggravated sexual abuse of a child. The verdict just came in yesterday afternoon. Twenty-five years. I thought you’d want to know.”
I immediately turn to Ahiga who is looking at me questioningly.
He’s in jail. Twenty-five years.
He looks around at everyone before his eyes return to me. Then he shrugs.
Good. Now can we get something to eat? I’m starving.
“OURAY! HAVE YOU SEEN my jacket?”
I’ve been looking for the damn thing for the past half hour. I planned to pair it with skintight black jeans and the pretty white tank Bella gave me for Christmas for the party tonight. It’s kinda become my ‘old lady’ uniform.
The party tonight was Momma’s brainchild. After the eventful day in Monticello earlier this week, and with Ahiga starting regular school in Durango on Monday, she felt a combined wedding, adoption, conviction, and back-to-school party was in order. I didn’t have the heart to refuse her.
“What jacket?” I startle when I hear his voice right behind me.
“Jesus, you scared the crap out of me.” I blow a strand of hair out of my eyes as I straighten up and step out of the closet. “That leather one you got me? I wanted to wear it.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Wouldn’t know. Why don’t you wear this one?” He holds up an old jean jacket I spilled paint on last month when I was redecorating Ahiga’s room.
“It’s got stains on it,” I point out.
That results in another shoulder shrug. He doesn’t care. Of course there was a time, not that long ago, that I wouldn’t have cared either, but I’m afraid I’ve become a bit of a fashion snob lately. I blame it on Bella, who insists on dragging me on her shopping sprees. Kerry is always a willing participant in those as well. Only Marya—who as a single mom has limited time or money—and Autumn, who claims to rather undergo dental surgery than hit up the mall with us, are the holdouts.
That reminds me...I dig through the closet until I find that gray woolen shrug I bought before winter hit. The tags are still on it.
“Ready?” Ouray asks when I come down the stairs. Ahiga’s been at the clubhouse all afternoon, helping decorate.
“Yup. Did you let Jack out?” We’re leaving him at home tonight. He gets too excited around a lot of people and starts marking every piece of furniture. We discovered that at Christmas. It wasn’t pretty.
“I did. And he has fresh water and a bowl of food. He’ll be fine.”
I’m really appreciating having a laundry room that leads through to the garage with the way the snow is coming down.
Someone has plowed the driveway up to the clubhouse, and I’m surprised to find vehicles parked all over the yard, a lot of them familiar. When I left everything to Momma, I thought we were just doing something for the club, but clearly she had different ideas.
“Congratulations!”
Several voices call out the moment we come in, stomping the snow off our boots. I look up to see my fellow agents with their significant others, as well as Keith and Autumn, among all Ouray’s brothers.
Yup, Momma went all out.
I barely have a chance to say hello to one before I’m passed to another set of arms hugging me.
“Girl, I can’t believe you went off and got married without me,” Autumn grumbles.
“She wasn’t marrying you, Red,” Keith points out, pulling me into a hug. “Fuck, I’m happy for you, Luna. He’s a lucky man.”
“And I know it.” Ouray’s deep voice comes from behind me as his arm slips around my waist. “Mind if I borrow my wife?”
“What are we doing?” I ask him when he leads me to the pool table, where Momma is standing beside a massive three-tier cake. “Oh my God. Did you make this?”
“Damn right I did. Not about to let some stranger bake a cake for my family.”
“It’s gorgeous. Thank you.” I’m about to give her a hug when a sharp piercing whistle almost pops my eardrum.
“Everybody shut it!” Ouray bellows, and I punch his shoulder.
“You’re so loud.”
“Only way to get them to shut up, Sprite,” he says with a grin, just as Ahiga comes walking up carrying a large flat box.
“What are you up to?” I ask Ouray suspiciously.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he whispers, before tucking me to his side and turning me so we face the bar. “I’m forty-eight,” he addresses our friends, “Figured my life was pretty much what it was. Sure didn’t expect a pint-sized sprite with a badge, a mean left hook, and a ch
ip the size of a boulder on her shoulder, to come barging into my world.” He turns his head to look at Ahiga, who’s standing next to Momma. “And then I met a boy who reminds me so much of myself at that age, I felt instantly drawn, and I couldn’t figure out what the universe was up to.” Blinking back tears I slip an arm around his waist, as he takes a moment to clear his throat. “Four days ago, all the pieces fell into place. I came home with a wife and a son. Perfect—almost.”
He steps around me, grabs the box Ahiga left on the pool table, and pulls my leather jacket out. He turns it around so I can see what’s stitched on the back.
PROPERTY OF OURAY
“Property? Seriously?”
A collective chuckle goes up.
“Relax, Sprite,” Ouray says, grinning. “I’m not done yet.”
Ahiga hands him his cut and he shrugs it on. Then he points at the new stitching sitting right over his heart.
PROPERTY OF LUNA
“Better?” he asks, and I grin up at him.
“Much.”
Put yours on, Ahiga signs, his face is excited as he helps me into my jacket.
“You may wanna check your pocket.” My left pocket is empty, but on the right side I feel something and pull it out, staring at it dumbfounded. “I know normal people ask first and marry later, but we haven’t done anything the conventional way yet, so why start now?” He takes my hand and plucks the diamond ring from my fingers. “I love you, Luna. Already put my name on your back—will you let me put my ring on your finger?”
Dammit. The tears win when he slips the diamond on my finger, and pulls me into his arms.
THE END
Keep reading for an excerpt from my upcoming novel
Covering Ollie
Book 2 in the On Call series
(Police & Fire: Operation Alpha)
by Freya Barker
Coming May 14, 2019
CHAPTER 1
Joe
“Dad, can Trinny come?”
I look over at my oldest, Mason, and recognize the dreamy-eyed look on his face. I’ve seen that look on him before, mostly when an ad for the new Spiderman game for PlayStation showed on TV, or when watching a clip of Christian Ronaldo juggling a soccer ball. A combination of adoration and hunger. I’ve just never seen it applied to a girl before. I smell trouble.