his hands to my breasts. “Don’t tell a soul or I’ll divorce you, no matter how sweet these tits are.”
I laughed. “You won’t divorce me.”
“You’re right. Never. Still... Don’t tell nobody. Fuckin’ used to sit there and watch ‘em get drunk and get tatts as a kid. Five or six years old the first time I got dragged along to a tattoo parlor. Scared shitless watching a guy pass out in the heat while the guy tattooed him. Place was filthy. Loud music. Shit show. Fuckin’ tattoo parlors make me feel like I’m gonna puke.”
“I won’t say a word, Christian. I promise. Do we get you a bunch of fake Dominion Brotherhood tatts?”
“Naw. I’ll work up the nerve. Might hafta down a fifth of whisky first but I’ll get it done. Get it done with when the threat is over. Already told myself I would. I owe it to your dad ‘n the brothers. I actually want that ink on me.”
“I’ll hold your hand when it’s time.”
“Good. Get my cock out, woman. It wants to be inside you.”
“Can we get under the blankets? I’m f-freezing.”
“Nope. Wanna look at this body. I’ll get you hot. Don’t you worry.”
***
I came out of the bedroom and found him lying in bed, awake. He was still asleep when I got up to go pee.
“Mornin’,” he said.
I gave him a little smile. “Mornin’. I, um… got my period,” I said.
His lips went tight. “Better luck next month,” he said.
I shrugged. “Hopefully.”
“You sad?” He opened his arms and I climbed in.
“Maybe a little. You?”
“No. Just means I got a mission. Gonna hafta try harder.”
I giggled. “That sounds like fun.”
“I promise you, it will be.”
“Christian?”
“Mm hm?”
“Can you go buy me some tampons?”
“Huh?”
“Like, now? I got a wad of toilet paper in my undies right now but I don’t think I should leave the room without proper protection. My period is heavy.”
He made a face.
I fluttered my eyelashes.
“This a new husband test?”
“No. I really do need them.”
He sighed. “Fine.”
I smiled. “Really? You’re gonna go get ‘em?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Get me some jellybeans and peanuts, too, for the saddlebags.”
He rolled his eyes and got out of bed, hauling his Wranglers up.
***
“If I hear one more person call my woman calendar girl with lust in their eyes, tongues hangin’, or if I hear one more fucker sing that fuckin’ love my love my calendar girl song again, I’ll knock their fucking teeth out.” Christian was saying this to Rider and Spencer after they helped pack up Jackson’s booth.
This was cool and showed my brothers were feeling bad about trying to semi-terrorize Alicia, who was looking radiant but ready to burst with her advanced pregnancy. She acted like she was their boss, telling them what to do as they carted some of the stuff into her van, which I thought was hilarious.
“You totally have to come to a girlie night at the bar first chance you get after you have that baby, girl.”
“My body is nearly ready,” she told me, tucking her pencil into her top knot and stretching her back with both hands bracing her lower back. “This munchkin is being shipped off to gramma’s with 24 hours’ worth of milk as soon as I can pump it. I have twin two-year-old boys at home, so I am not at all one of those mommas who won’t part with her precious bundle for the first year. Speaking of which, I’m inking in babysitters on my schedule so feel free to get in there before all the Saturday nights are booked.”
I laughed. She was a hoot. Her husband had the British accent, but Alicia was a local. I couldn’t wait to have her at Deke’s Roadhouse for a girls’ night.
Deacon and Ella were off somewhere doing something. Pippa and Jenna weren’t here at all; they were apparently sleeping off hangovers back at the Winnebago. Deacon and Ella had their Fifth Wheel trailer and the others had rented one to share to come with. Dad and Laura had stayed in an Air BNB. A couple of the other couples had tents and were at a campground.
We were all convoying home together in a few hours.
***
“I ain’t goin’ to no cosplay thing, woman.”
“Oh come on. You’d make a great Worf, son of Mogh. We will just put a temporary black dye in your hair and get you some forehead ridges, and---”
“Woman, you’re bananas if you think that’s happenin’.”
I smiled. “I get what I want, Christian Forker.”
He got his mouth an inch from mine.