Chapter 2 #2
I pursed my lips. “Who’s the whipped cream for?”
Yeah, yeah, we were supposed to be talking seriously, but when my hot husband utters whipped cream and naked in the same sentence, consider me distracted.
A shit-eating grin transformed his face. “You don’t know?”
“You shouldn’t poke a horny bear, baby.”
He leaned in to whisper, “I’d rather the horny bear poke me.”
I growled and stood, lifting him as I went.
“Oh, what big muscles you have,” he squealed.
I threw my head back and laughed. “Fuck off.”
He laughed too, and soon, we ended up grinning at each other in the confines of the bathroom. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed, and the humor in his eyes softened. “I wish we didn’t have to go downstairs.”
Pulling him against me, I nuzzled his cheek. “How about I take you out to dinner tonight? Just me and you. Some one-on-one time.”
“Talk dirty to me, frat boy.”
I smiled. “And maybe dessert will include that whipped cream you were talking about.”
His arms slid around my neck. “You have really good ideas.”
“That a yes?”
“That’s a hell yes.”
I kissed him quickly, then stepped back to finish dressing.
On the way downstairs, he tugged my hand. “T? What were you going to say back there?”
I told him, and the look on his face made my heart swell. Like I handed him the moon and stars and not just an idea.
“Our family is the moon and stars to me, T.”
Confused, I met his stare. “You doing that mind-reading thing again?”
His teeth flashed, and the skin around his eyes wrinkled. “You’re doing that talking out loud thing again.”
“So you like the idea?”
“I more than like. This is exactly why I could never do parenting without you.”
“You could,” I refuted.
His head tilted, lips pursed. “But why would I want to?”
I smiled. “So green light?”
“Bright green. We can talk details at dinner tonight.”
I scoffed. “We both know you will somehow have already found what you want online.”
“What’s online?” Ivy asked, stepping from behind the massive fridge door.
“If that fridge got any bigger, it would need its own zip code,” Drew quipped.
Ivy lifted her palm. “I can’t help it all the boys in this house eat more than some restaurants serve in an entire day.”
“That’s what happens when you shack up with a football player,” Drew teased on his way to the coffee pot.
“You did the same thing,” she pointed out.
“Guess we have good taste,” he said, looking over his shoulder to wink at me.
Ivy passed me the creamer, and I carried it over to add some to Drew’s mug.
“There you are!” Rimmel said, coming through the archway leading into the dining room. “We’re almost out of pancakes, so you better go eat.”
Dark wisps of hair that had come loose from her messy bun floated out around her head as she carried an empty bowl to the sink.
“The kids already demolished all the fruit,” she informed just as her foot caught in the hem of her too-long pants and she pitched forward. The bowl went flying, hitting against the stone counter and splattering whatever was left.
I scooped her up before she could land in a heap, cradling her slight form in a bridal-style hold. She looked up at me, sheepish, hair in her face, and smudges on her glasses.
“I’ve come to accept that I’m never going to be graceful,” she said, the tip of her nose pink.
I laughed. “It only took forty years to admit it, huh?”
She gasped. “How dare you, Trent? I am not forty!”
“Forty is one of them F-words,” Braeden announced from the archway. “Just ask Drew. He knows. How’s them old bones, bro?”
“You say that as if you aren’t about to fall over the hill too,” Drew muttered around his mug.
“Forty isn’t old,” I said. “It’s just eighteen with twenty-two years of experience.”
“I’m curious.” B wondered. “Do you lie in bed at night and think up comebacks to defend your man?”
“I have better things to do in bed at night. I feel for Ivy if you don’t know that.”
The sound of coffee spewing followed by sputtering had me turning. Drew was coughing now, his eyes watering.
“You better get him a napkin,” Rimmel said.
I walked over to the island and gestured for her to grab one since, you know, my arms were already full. Then I carried her over so she could hand it to Drew.
“That’s my sister,” he said, voice strained.
“Sisters before misters.” I tossed out one of B’s ancient lines.
Braeden appeared at my elbow. “Now see here. Your sister doesn’t have any complaints.”
“There are children present,” Rimmel hissed.
B scoffed. “They’re in the next room eating us out of house and home.”
“No kid wants to hear about their parents’ bedroom activity.” Rimmel’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t want to hear about it either.”
A tap on my shoulder had me turning.
Romeo looked between his wife and me, then raised his eyebrow.
“She almost killed herself,” I explained. “It’s safer this way.”
“Are you causing trouble in here, smalls?”
“Me?” She gasped. “They’re the ones talking about—” She paused to look around and then lowered her voice to a loud whisper. “Sex.”
Romeo’s lips twitched, and he held out his arms. “Give me my wife.”
“Thanks for the save, Trent.”
I deposited her into Romeo’s hold. “Anytime, sis.”
Ivy picked up the bowl from the floor and tossed it into the sink. We stopped using glass a long time ago.
“I’m going to eat,” I said, rubbing my grumbling stomach.
Drew grasped my hand on the way to the dinging room, and I smiled, tugging him along with me.
“Oh, for shit’s sake!” Braeden hollered.
We glanced back to see him holding up his foot with a large wet spot covering his white sock.
“Tutor girl, one of your beasts pissed in the kitchen!”
Rimmel gasped. “They did not!”
“Then how do you explain this?” he exclaimed, jabbing at his foot.
“The stain is pink, moron. Obviously, it’s not pee,” Ivy pointed out and reached down to pull the sock off her husband’s foot. Bravely, she lifted it to take a quick sniff, blond hair swaying with the motion. “It’s watermelon juice,” she told the room.
“Ooops,” Rimmel sang. Then, in a much louder voice, she called, “Milo! Rocket! Barney and Fred!”
There was a bark from somewhere, and then a horde of dogs stormed the kitchen, the excited click-clack of their nails on the floor just as loud as their panting breaths.
“Mess,” Rimmel pointed to the spilled fruit juice, and the dogs nearly knocked Braeden over as they slurped it up with their massive tongues.
“This is unhygienic!” Braeden complained loudly. “These dogs are out of control.”
Andi brushed through me and Drew and shot forward, her pin-straight dark hair blowing around her shoulders and a piece of bacon hanging from her fingers.
“Here, boy!” she called, waving it around.
Barney got there first, taking the entire thing in one chomp.
She laughed and raced back to the dining room, the dogs following her with hopeful looks. Across the kitchen, another dog burst in from the dog door and raced across the floor, sliding a bit as he ran. Seeing the sock dangling from Ivy’s hand, he grabbed it and gave it a shake, then took off.
“That’s my sock!” Braeden roared and lunged after the dog.
Rimmel giggled as Ketchup veered away and came over to hide behind Drew. When B tried to reach around him to get his beloved dog, Drew put a hand on his chest and shook his head.
“This is why he acts like that,” B accused. “You let him get away with sock murder.”
“It was ruined anyway,” Drew said, reaching around to scratch Ketchup behind the ear. “Good boy,” he whispered, and Ketchup’s tail beat the back of my legs.
Yes, I know. I allowed him to name our dog Ketchup.
As previously mentioned, I am weak for him and anything that makes him happy.
After our beloved French Fry crossed the rainbow bridge, we didn’t think we’d want to get another pet.
Death is hard. But then about a year later, Rimmel showed up with this guy who came into the shelter with matted hair and his ribs showing.
The second he jumped into Drew’s lap, I knew he was ours.
“This house is a damn zoo,” Braeden mourned.
Romeo made a goat sound.
Rimmel and Ivy laughed.
“How could you do it to me, blondie?” Braeden accused.
Ivy made a sound and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Poor baby.”
“Give me some sugar. I need it,” he told her.
Drew made a sound and turned away. “I think I lost my appetite.”
“Daddy!” Andi waved from down the table. “Sit by me,” she said, slapping her hand on the seat of the empty chair beside her.
I caught Drew by the back of the neck and leaned in. “You sit. I’ll make you a plate,” I told him before brushing a kiss on his temple and nudging him toward our daughter.
Ketchup trailed after him, and I grabbed some plates and piled them high with pancakes, eggs, and bacon. There were also muffins and donuts, but I didn’t just do all that work in the gym to undo it at the table.
I might not yet be forty like my husband, but I was no spring chicken either. It took a lot more discipline now to maintain my muscle than it did when I was twenty.
Maintaining it was important to me, not just for vanity either but because I wanted to be able to haul Drew around as long as he would let me.
Andi too. Soon, she’d be twelve, and even though she was still a little peanut and easy for me to carry, I knew the day was approaching when she’d be “too old” for her dad to carry her around. I had to enjoy it while I could.
“Heads up, Uncle Trent!” Blue yelled, and I looked up in time to see a blob of scrambled egg coming at my face. I moved fast and ate it out of the air.
“Blue Jay Anderson, did you just throw eggs at your uncle?” Rimmel said, plunking her hands on her hips to glare at her son. At fourteen, he was taller than her.
“He looked hungry,” Blue said. “You always did tell me to share.” He smiled, and Rimmel’s lips twitched.
Over her shoulder, she glared at Romeo. “This is your fault, Roman Anderson.”
“Me? What did I do?”
She scowled. “Passing on that larger-than-life charm.”
Romeo snatched her from behind and kissed her neck loudly.