The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,115
and resting it against the other on the drying pad.
“That doesn’t seem like a lot to unpack,” he remarked.
She grabbed a dishtowel, turned to him, leaned her side against the counter, wiped her hands and asked, “How many kids you want?”
“Including Brooklyn, three.”
“I want six,” she declared, tossing the towel aside, “Not including Brooklyn.”
Well, shit.
“Baby—”
“And I want that staggered, like a sister wife, even though you will have no sister wives, so in the end I’m just getting done with my last baby and then my first baby gives me grandbabies.”
Well . . .
Shit.
“Addie—”
She smiled huge at him. “I know that’s all kinds of crazy, so I’ll settle for two more in quick succession so we can strap their asses in the car and head to the shack on weekends. But I warn you, I’m not cleaning any fish.”
He reached out, grabbed her waist and slid her along the counter to him.
She set her hands on his chest.
“So that’s hammered out,” he muttered.
“Yep,” she replied.
“I’m suddenly not feeling going through shack ideas on my laptop,” he told her.
“Oh no you don’t. You don’t get to dangle getaway home renovations in front of me then yank them away.”
“You’d really rather look at cabin kitchen ideas than get fucked?”
She leaned deeper into him, “You really have to learn when I’m teasing, Talon.”
“I’m sure it’ll sink in eventually, Lollipop.”
His head was descending but it stopped doing that when she pulled hers back.
“Why do you call me Lollipop?”
“Why do you call me Talon?”
“Because you are so totally Talon McHotterson.”
“And you’re so totally Lollipop McGorgeouson.”
“I’m not sweet.”
“And I’m not sharp.”
Her head tipped to the side and she murmured, “Ah, I see.”
“Unh-hunh.”
“It’s ironic.”
“Mm.”
“Excellent call, Talon.”
“Lollipop?”
“Yeah.”
“Shut up.”
She smiled up at him.
And got herself kissed.
They moved it to the bedroom.
And when they were done, they fell asleep without the Christmas lights glowing in the room.
But the moonlight did it.
And Brooks was in his crib next door.
Dapper Dan slept at the foot of Brooks’s crib. New territory, looking out for his boy.
And sometime in the middle of the night, Barbarella woke Toby up by curling on his ankles.
So Tobe fell back to sleep with Addie in his arms, the other female in the house on his ankles, his boys in the nursery, and his lips tipped up.
They were like this because he had everything he ever wanted.
All of it under his roof.
His family.
The next night, they knew she’d showed when Ranger, Dempsey and Swirl all got up and started barking at the door.
Only one cat scattered, the other two hung where they were (bed and couch respectively).
Neither bird bothered to chirp.
Johnny and him were sitting at Johnny’s dining room table with beers.
They looked at each other before they both got up and went to the door.
The brothers then walked out and stood at the top landing of the steps that led to the only floor of the mill (as of yet) that was finished.
There was one large room that housed kitchen, living area and bed. A massive bath and closet to the back. And some storage areas for Johnny’s camping and fishing gear, water heater, furnace, Wi-Fi central and shit like that.
After the winter, Johnny was going to build an attached garage and start finishing up the downstairs, which now housed Johnny and Izzy’s vehicles, and the brothers’ ATVs and snowmobiles.
They’d planned some together time after the wedding before starting a family.
But when that time came, Johnny wanted to be ready.
And as was noted, Gamble Brothers didn’t fuck around.
These were Toby’s thoughts as he watched his mother get out of a black BMW 7 Series.
“Moisturizer and high-performance vehicles,” Toby muttered.
“What?”
“The woman isn’t hurting for money,” Toby said.
Johnny looked back down at her and replied, “Yeah.”
They shifted to stand side by side and face the stairs as she walked up them.
She was about six steps from them before she laid a hand on her chest and noted, “It’s a very strange feeling to be back here.”
Toby clenched his teeth to stop himself from saying something he’d regret.
Johnny moved to the door and shoved it open.
The dogs bounded out.
“My!” she cried.
They bounded to her.
She plastered herself to the railing.
“Boys! Yard!” Johnny barked.
Three heads with floppy ears flying looked up to their dad.
Then they clamored down the steps.
“You have . . . you have a lot of dogs, Johnathon.”
“Johnny,” Johnny said tightly.
“Sorry, I . . . we called you that when you were little but—”
“Only Margot calls me Johnathon,” Johnny told her.