Jameson (In the Company of Snipers #22) - Irish Winters Page 0,110

later when—”

“It’s okay. I was already awake. Whatcha need?”

Harley cleared his throat. “Well, I was wondering. Mind if me and the monsters stop by? Little A has something to give you and Maddie, but mostly, you. He’s all excited, which is why I forgot what time it is. But if it’s too early—”

“Are you and your boys in your Jeep?” The soft hum of a vehicle over the connection told Jameson company was already in transit.

“Umm, yeah?”

Jameson grinned at that answer/question. He could almost hear Harley ruffling a hand over his head. He did that a lot. “Come on over. I’ll put coffee on.”

“You’re sure? I mean, we can come back later.”

Maddie’s fingertips fluttered over Jameson’s nipple to get his attention. “Tell him I’ve got chocolate milk and donuts for the boys.”

“The last thing these kids need is a sugar high,” a female voice murmured over the line.

Jameson moved his hand from Maddie’s backside and clapped it over her fingers on his chest. “Good morning, Judy!” he called to the woman he’d only heard about so far.

“Hey, Jameson. Are you sure we’re not intruding?”

“Positive. We’re both awake.” And one of us is up.

“Yeah…” Harley drew that word out. “It’s me, the boys, and my wife. Geez, I should’ve called later.”

“No, Harley,” Maddie spoke up. “Hurry. I can’t wait to see Georgie’s surprise.”

“When do you think you’ll be here?” Jameson asked as nonchalantly as he could.

“Ten minutes, maybe fifteen at the most. Boys. Not now. Shhhhh. I’m talking.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Jameson replied over the mayhem from Harley’s end of the connection.

“Great. See ya soon.”

And the scramble to get dressed and semi-presentable in less than ten minutes was on. Maddie jumped in the shower first. Jameson barged in behind her to save water. Yeah, right. The sudsy slide of his fingers down her belly earned him a half-hearted smack, but not before he urged a moan out of her.

“Harley’s twins don’t need sex education,” she muttered. “We can’t play now. Cease. Desist. Oh, heck..” Tipping up on her toes, she wound her arms around his neck. “At least don’t get my hair wet.”

Jameson filled his hands with the cheeks of her butt. “I definitely want a rain check,” he mumbled into her lips.

“Me, too,” she breathed, her voice so damned sultry, it was all Jameson could do to tear his hands off of her.

“Hurry,” she ordered as she pushed off and shut the shower door in his face.

“Awww…” he groused. “Not fair.”

Which made her laugh. And there it was, the tinkle of light-heartedness in his life that elicited the same feeling of contentment here, in his tiled, run-of-the-mill shower, of all places.

“Have I told you yet today how much I love you?” he called out as he shampooed his hair, then rinsed. Just that fast, his shower was done. Man-style.

“No, but you will,” she teased from the bathroom sink. “I’m going to get dressed and start a big pot of coffee. Step on it, honey.”

“I can’t step on it. It’s not that long,” he teased back as he opened the shower door, ready to show her precisely how long it was. Hello, morning.

She giggled on her way into their bedroom. “Clothes. We need clothes and—”

The doorbell rang.

“Yikes!” was the last thing Maddie squealed.

He closed the bathroom door behind her, just in case the bedroom door was still open.

More giggling, then the bedroom door shut. The entry door opened. Then Maddie’s bright, “Hello! Hi, Judy! Hi, boys! My goodness, you’ve both grown. Little A, your hair gets redder all the time, look at you! Jameson will be right out. Oh, my! Is that the surpr—?”

Several extra-loud “Shhhhhs” hissed from beyond Jameson’s bedroom, and didn’t that pique his curiosity? Hurriedly, he climbed into a clean pair of jeans and yesterday’s t-shirt, then slipped into his comfy leather loafers. His ensemble complete, he stalked out of his bedroom into his too-quiet living room. He cocked his head, gauging the distance between him and his woman.

“Can I?” one of Harley and Judy’s boys begged. “Please. It’s no fun if he can’t see him. I mean us. I mean—”

Jameson’s nostrils flared. Dog. He smelled dog, sweaty little boys, and a different feminine fragrance in the room. That had to be Judy. But a dog. That was a hard scent to miss.

A gentle tug on his wrist brought him to one knee. “Uncle Jameson.” That had to be Little A, so named because Little Alex had inadvertently created the misnomer, Big Alex. Which just did not work for