11. Mason
11
MASON
T urned out, Sam wouldn’t be taking point.
Logan got a text as we neared Fallen Crest and began laughing. “The women are at Manny’s and they’re wasted.”
Nate groaned. “Quincey tends to want to check on all of Nova’s animals when she’s had a couple too many drinks. She gets all weepy about how wonderful each of them is. We brought five of Nova’s animals with us this time. Five . That damn fucking tortoise. She’s going to try to bring Harold into our bed.”
“Harold?” Matteo laughed. “What?”
“The tortoise. She’s going to bring a stepladder into the room so he can climb into the bed. Goddammit. I’m not sharing my bed with a giant turtle.”
I snickered, at least until Logan got another text. His gaze met mine in the rearview mirror.
My grin fell fast. “What?”
He grimaced. “We don’t get Ninja Sam tonight. We get Dinosaur Sam.”
I frowned. The fuck?
When we got to the house, I sent Maddy to bed, saying sternly, “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“We have the funeral tomorrow.”
“We’ll talk when we can—maybe the day after. Go to bed. I mean it, Maddy.” I raised my voice as she started up the stairs.
Matteo and Nate didn’t stick around. Both headed to their respective areas of the house, or outside to the pool house, in Matteo’s case. Logan disappeared into the kitchen, and I waited, checking my phone to see if Channing sent a follow-up text. He hadn’t.
Ten minutes later, I found out what Dinosaur Sam meant.
Taylor walked inside first. She was sober, biting back a grin. Her shoulders shook with laughter. “I can’t—I just can’t. They’re…good luck.” She looked around. “Where’s my husband? Husband!”
“Wife!” Logan walked from the kitchen, a plate of warmed-up pizza slices in his hand. He beamed at his wife. “My Taco.”
She flushed. “Logan.”
He chuckled, pulling her in for a kiss. He held up the plate of pizza. “Hungry?”
She moaned. “God, yes. I shouldn’t. I might be up all night, but…” She stared at the plate.
He took a slice and pushed it into her hand. “Eat. I’ll hold your hair if it doesn’t agree with you.”
I frowned. “Shouldn’t you be out of the morning-sickness stage?”
Taylor groaned, shaking her head. “I wish. I still never know when something is going to not agree with me, but I’m starving.”
Raucous sounds came from outside. Taylor chuckled, nabbing a second slice and kissing Logan on the cheek. “And that’s my cue. Have fun.” She snorted, disappearing down the hallway to the wing where they always stayed.
Logan and I turned in time to see the door kicked open. I had to blink a few times to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing, but I was. Sam was in the doorway, her arms up and bent outward, and her knees bent in a squat.
“What the—”
“KER-BAHHHHHHHHHP!” She leaned forward and her mouth opened as she made the sound, then clamped together as her head moved backward. Her legs and arms moved forward, her knees still bent. She looked like a crab trying to walk forward as it stood up. She only went another few feet before there was a repeat performance.
Head out.
Mouth open.
“KER-BAHHHHHHHHHHHHPP! KER-KER-BAHHHHP-BAHPP-BAHPP!” Her mouth snapped open on each word like her lips were a beak.
Her head returned to its normal position and onward the crab-walk continued until another repeat.
Heather couldn’t walk behind her. She was on the ground, hugging her sides as she laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe.
“What the—” Logan started to say.
“KER-BAHHHHHHHP! BAHHHHHHHHP!” Snap. Crab-walk. Crab-walk.
This was Dinosaur Sam?
She was going to wake the kids. Or some of the kids.
I moved toward her, getting ready to pick her up, but the sliding door from the back of the kitchen opened. Soon after, we heard Quincey saying, “Shoo. Shoo. Come on. You can do it. Let’s go.”
Logan backed up a bunch of steps until he had a clear view of the kitchen. He cursed, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. He snorted, laughing as Sam let loose with another, “KER-BAHP BAHP BAHPPP! KER KER KER!”
He almost dropped the pizza, and he had to sit in the nearest chair, looking back and forth from whatever the fuck Quincey was doing in the kitchen to Dinosaur Sam.
“Come on. Yeah. Good job, Harold,” Quincey cooed. The patio door slid shut.
I took three steps and plucked my wife up in one arm.
“KER-BA—Oh!” She squeaked. “Mason.”
I carried her into the kitchen to see with my own eyes as Nate’s wife led Harold into the house. She was bribing him, holding out lettuce. He moved forward, reaching for the food. She kept pedaling backward, holding more leaves for him. He kept following.
Sam blinked away some wetness in her eyes. Heather had moved into the house, but only made it far enough to lean heavily against the wall, bent over with laughter.
When she saw Harold, she lost it all over again.
Sam started laughing with her.
Soon both were howling so loud that for a second I blanked on how to handle this situation. I looked to my brother, but he was no help. He’d abandoned the pizza and was out of his chair, his knees almost touching the ground as he wiped a hand over his face. He couldn’t stop laughing.
Hearing those three, Quincey looked around and began trying to hold her laughter in.
She failed.
Logan looked over at me, trying to get ahold of himself. “Nate called it,” he said.
I had no idea how to wrangle these women when they decided to indulge and have a good time. Though, I was glad this was the problem I got. Back on the team, other players’s wives would sometimes get drunk. Loneliness, sadness, maybe basic selfishness came out. They’d want attention so they’d do what they needed to get it. Flirting with other men. Having affairs. It happened. It was more common than some of the guys wanted to admit. I was aware some of those same husbands were also cheating, so what came first? The chicken or the egg. It was that same sort of question. Or maybe it was that like attracted like.
Not my wife. Not her friends.
They got drunk and came back impersonating dinosaurs and trying to bribe a giant turtle to cuddle up for the night. I chuckled. I had no idea why Sam chose me, but I would never stop thanking the stars for her.
I pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She blinked a few times, and a soft, gooey look melted over her. “Oh, husband. I love you too.” She reached up, trying to cup my face. Her hand landed over my nose, and she pressed a kiss to my earlobe, sighing into it. “Take me to bed, husband. Fuck me good. I promise I won’t fall asleep. I’ll hold my legs up for you.”
Logan lost it all over again, wiping tears from his face. “That’s just what every husband wants to hear. ‘I promise I won’t fall asleep’—this time.”
“Oh!” We all turned to Heather. “My husband and child aren’t here. They went home?”
Sam scrambled out of my hold. I didn’t trust her. I didn’t know what she would do. She might go to Heather or start keeping pace with the fucking turtle to ‘motivate him.’
Also I enjoyed feeling her in my arms so I pulled her back.
She struggled until I slid a hand into her pants pocket, finding a hole and moving my finger over her panties. She melted back into me. “Oh,” she breathed.
Heather was trying to make sense of her phone. “Wait. What happened? Natessia and Crew are here?”
I nodded. “I checked on them, both are sleeping. Max wanted to go to your place. Things were tense when we found them. There was an altercation.”
“An altercation?” She straightened. All the laughter melted away.
“Everyone’s fine. Max is fine. I think…” I didn’t want to throw Maddy under the bus.
“He and Mads had a little disagreement,” Logan explained. “You know how they are. They’ll be fine tomorrow, but he needed a breather for the night. Probably just wanted to clear his head. Sleep in his own bed. That sort of thing.”
She nodded, but still seemed worried. “I should…” She looked up the stairs, toward where her kids were resting.
“I can give you a ride home,” Logan told her. “Nat and Crew will be fine. We’ll bring them to the church tomorrow. Feed ’em even.” He winked, standing and reaching for his keys.
“No.” I shook my head at Heather and Logan. “I’ll drive her.”
“Are you sure?” Logan’s gaze went to Samantha.
Quincey was bringing that damn turtle past us, and I knew my wife was going to forget what was happening and would want to join the fun. Wanting to avoid all of that, I hoisted Sam up and over my shoulder.
She gasped. “Mason!”
I spoke over her to Logan. “Yes, I’m sure.” I smacked her on the ass. “I’m bringing this one with me.”
“Ah—Mason!”
I ignored her, turning to Heather. “You ready to roll out? Need the bathroom or anything?”
Heather looked a little dazed. “No. I’m good.”
Logan trailed after us. “What do you want me to do with this one?” He indicated Quincey over his shoulder with his thumb. She and Harold were moving past the entryway.
I shook my head. “Not my wife. Not my problem.”