“Are you going to play tonight?” Finn asked.

Remy shook her head. “Don’t want to give away our secret.”

They were dropping off stuff at Pete’s for tonight’s poker tournament. She wanted a specific chair at the table, and the hilarious metal briefcase she had monogrammed that they stuffed full of new poker chips with the bar’s logo had to go in the safe.

“What’s with the captain’s chair?”

She chuckled at the sight of the distinctive round design with a sloping back, arms, and a wide seat.

“Believe it or not, it’s the comfort. The bow of the design makes it easy to relax, and the seat is wide enough that I can sit cross-legged if I want to. Disarms the other guys, and shit, like I said, it’s comfortable.”

“Look away.” Beantown sniggered while dramatically cracking his knuckles and flexing his fingers.

He was standing at the ginormous thousand-pound safe in the old office behind the bar. The classic floor model probably looked pretty cool a couple of decades ago, but now it was covered with stickers and looked like a graffiti dump. Liquor labels, travel stickers, and a big kid’s sticker of Oscar the Grouch all adorned the big metal monster.

“Hardy har har,” she sniped drily. “Get on with it, would you? I need a couple of stiff ones before the tournament.”

Finn opened the heavy safe door and shoved the metal case in. “I can help with a stiff one,” he said so matter-of-factly that she almost missed the comment.

Because it was funny and because her being a shit was what he expected, she smiled oh, so sweetly and plucked a squeeze container of Stroke 29 from an open carton on the floor. “For your stiffy,” she declared with a shit-eating smirk.

He came back at her, though, and she had to applaud his chutzpah. Taking the masturbation cream, he uncapped it and held it up. “Open your hand, palm up.”

Laughter shot from her mouth. “Bah! You wish!”

He smirked appropriately and rolled a shoulder. “I keep telling you that I’m totally open to giving lessons.”

“Yes, I know,” she snarled, “and in doing so, you’re implying my technique could use some work.”

It was a burn, and he took it the way she intended. He looked at her in horror.

“Shit, Remy, no. That wasn’t, I mean, well, no. No, your technique does not need work.”

She let him off the hook. Finn hated hurting anyone’s feelings. He was a snarky shit like his sister, but rarely was he malicious about it.

“I rather like polishing the shillelagh au naturel.”

The sexual tension that always swirled around them kicked up a notch. They were heading for an implosion or an explosion—she wasn’t sure which word applied—but in either case, something big was coming, and they both knew it.

When she drove a bunch of her stuff to the casita in preparation for vacating the apartment, she got locked in a heavy breathing fantasy about Finn making love to her in the romantic hideaway. The bed looked so inviting that she sat on it to test the mattress and then lay flat with her arms out while creating a mental scenario involving a gloriously naked Finn and her.

It was only a matter of time.

Shrieking laughter coming from the bar precluded further conversation. A rowdy time was building at Pete’s. Tonight’s poker tournament and the finals of the bull riding promised a night of fast action. After the fun came a chance for Thunder to jam, and that was what she was really looking forward to.

Spooky ghost laughter rumbled through the sound system as they made their way from the old office.

Grey was entertaining a group of patrons with some magic tricks Finn had taught him. Her boyfriend chuckled as Grey fumbled and bumbled. Leading her to a barstool that had an obnoxious shamrock painted on the seat, courtesy of Bella, he got her situated and clapped his hands once, rubbing them together.

“Name your poison, Frenchy. Rum? Tequila? Moonshine?”

“Do you have moonshine?”

“Shh,” he said with a finger to his lips. “Kelly gave me some. Imported stuff. Straight from the mountain.”

“Oh, man. Gimme a shot of that!”

With two fingers in his mouth, Finn let loose a shrill whistle that cut through the bar noise. One of the bar staff looked up as her ginger hottie used hand signals to indicate what he wanted. A squirrely looking dude with a ponytail longer than hers hurried a Mason jar into Finn’s hands.

One shot of the liquid fire was enough. She tossed that sucker back like a pro, gasped for breath, and pounded her fist on the bar top.

“Fuckballz!”

Finn enjoyed her moonshine distress with crossed arms and a smirk. “Another?”

She couldn’t talk. The potent home brew stripped her throat to the point that she had a hard time swallowing. “Milk,” she finally groaned.

Laughing as though this was the funniest thing of all time, Finn reached into the cooler and poured milk into a tumbler halfway full. Remy ripped it from his hand and slugged it down.

He regarded her with snarky pity, so she graced him with a milk burp that even to her sounded disgusting.

“Ew.” He laughed. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

The milk helped her find her voice. “I kiss my boyfriend with this mouth and don’t want to hear any complaints if he wants that to continue.”

“Check out what’s heading your way, babe,” Finn told her. He tilted his head to indicate the front door, so she swiveled on her seat and looked.

Dressed in what can only be described as the Olivia Newtown John version of a cowgirl, Sophia Marquez sashayed toward her with a happy, goofy grin on her face.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Remy bawled with laughter.

Sophie offered a friendly hug and then launched into a description of her outrageous outfit. Remy’s cousin Jace was literally standing nearby holding her purse.

Shaking her ta-tas like a stripper made the white fringe on an elaborate red silk cowgirl shirt wiggle. “Vintage!” Sophie crowed. “Found it on eBay.” She removed a showy white cowgirl hat with a red ribbon and shook out her long dark mane. “Now these pants, though? These babies are the bomb.”

Sophie stuck out a leg. Finn laughed.

“Shiny, satin, and stretchy,” she cooed. “Technically dance pants but they’re candy apple red and slid inside my boots.”

The boots were a work of art. White with fringe and bedazzled with red crystals, the footwear brought her whole outfit together.

Jace finally said something when he drawled, “She thinks this is funny. Don’t encourage her.”

“Funny?” Remy boomed. “Are you kidding? This shit is epic!”

High-fiving Sophie as the feisty woman had a good laugh over her fiancé’s consternation, Remy considered the unlikely couple. Jace’s metamorphosis from the time of his arrival in Bendover till now was nothing short of astonishing. Gone was the miserable, uptight, restless man questioning his life path. The obvious physical transformation, a result of his first months in Arizona, slid to second place on the wow scale after he and Sophia reconnected. Simply put, the middle Marquez sibling was Jace’s missing piece. She completed him in all the ways that mattered most. Jace found his place in the world, and it was here in Arizona with Sophia and Teo.

But it was seeing him so comically bent out of shape over Sophie’s antics that made Remy happiest. Only a man truly in love could stand stoically in the background, ready for anything, when his lady was having fun.

She glanced at Finn. He and Jace had that in common.

Barry came hurrying toward them. His big smile got bigger as he grabbed Sophie and hugged her. The mechanical bull thing was his baby, and he was telling everyone who’d listen about the Spanish señorita’s prowess.

“Sophia! You look amazing! Where’s Cameron?” Barry said in a near bellow. “He needs to get some publicity shots.”

“Just passed him in the parking lot,” Jace chimed in. “He was having a serious conversation with some guy.”

“Some guy?” Remy asked for clarification.

“Beef stick,” Sophie crooned. “Big but not as big as Rafael. Arms like this,” she said while gesturing with her hands. “Wearing Doc Martens with tucked tactical pants.” She smiled and curtsied with a sarcastic snort. “I am, after all, my brother’s sister and notice everything.”

Remy’s warrior radar fired up. Sounded like Justice but Jace was in charge these days and knew everyone on the current roster. If the man he saw talking to Cam was Justice, it was someone from the past.

Meghan was having a hell of a time concentrating. She couldn’t stop thinking about Alex and how many times he’d taken her since her eyes first opened early this morning. The man was having an insatiable day, and who was she to complain?

They were in the car on their way to Pete’s. His head turned, and he looked at her with a gleam in his eyes.

“How’s my baby?” Her hand was on his thigh as he drove. He picked it up and kissed her fingers.

She gave him half an eye roll and blushed.

Sometime midafternoon when she couldn’t find him anywhere and he didn’t answer his phone, she went looking for him. He was in the drum studio, working up a sweat and pounding away.

He was wearing headphones, so she couldn’t hear what song he was playing.

“Grab some cans,” he hollered. “Listen in.”

He was in a groove and high as a kite, so she grabbed a pair of headphones and plugged in. The distinctive song that had to be in the classic hall of fame filled her head. She laughed and started to dance. Alex had a way of getting his drums to talk that was so powerful her whole body responded to the beats.

When the last note faded and they removed their headsets, he was grinning, sweaty, and had an oh, so very beastly gleam in his eye.

“Alex! Is that one of the songs?”

His grin got wider. “Berger’s number. Remy has the assist.”

That was all she needed to hear for her to squeal with delight and jump into his arms. He took it from there.

The memory made her blush deepen, and she bit her lip as she remembered the masterful way he’d used her pleasure to magnify his own. She sighed at the delicious recollection.

“No answer?” He chuckled and leaned on the console between them, bringing his voice close enough to feel. “Can you walk yet?”

His naughty words made her squirm. And not because of what went down in the drum room. Nope. What prompted the inquiry was a result of the ferocious pounding he’d unleashed just before they left the house.

Catching her eyeing his assets, he teased her about it until she thought to teach him a lesson. With her mouth. He warned her how it would end, but she was confident enough in her oral abilities to scoff at the weak threat.

She’d been hasty in her certainty.

Alex had a supernatural ability to control his responses. He rarely lost control, not truly. Chasing what pleased her triggered most of his surrenders, and since taking him in her mouth was a definite turn-on, he got off on what got her off.

But when he wanted all the control, he could be quite the master, and that was what happened earlier.

He indulged her. That was all he did. She sucked, licked, gagged, nibbled, and sucked some more while Alex stroked her hair and praised her efforts. Once or twice, he got close, but he somehow pulled back from the ledge each time

His resistance wore her down, and he had finally asked if she’d had enough. That damn question was probably going to haunt her now.

The fucking started on the armless chair—one of their favorite pieces of equipment. She rode his cock while he held her tits and grinned. It didn’t take much of that for her to come.

From the chair, they dropped to the plush carpeting. Ass up was one of her favorite positions, and because Alex was so big, he knew how to make it count. She catapulted into a climax without warning.

The bed was next. After she stopped shaking, he got her up and hoisted her over his shoulder. She felt like a heroine in a historical romance being taken to her shame on a sexy rogue’s bed.

With her ass almost hanging off the edge of the mattress, he put her legs on his shoulders and took her on a thundering ride to heaven. When it was over and she’d come a third time right before he released inside her, Meghan honestly and truly could not walk.

“You’re a beast.” She giggled. “Stop teasing me.”

They drove on. She guesstimated they’d be at Pete’s in a few minutes.

“I ordered some stupid shit from that pet place before we left. Toys for Zeus.”

His offhanded comment seemingly came out of nowhere, but Meghan smiled because Alex was trying to please her. He adored the dog and would have bought her a ton of shit anyway, but saying it out loud and making it sound like no big deal was his way of showing how much he cared about her feelings.

The whole day had been about her. He was distracted—there was clearly shit going on—but every one of their interactions had been about her and their relationship. Instead of being pissed off about her failure, he’d done everything possible to reinforce her submissive role. She felt loved, adored, and valued. Her loving acquiescence to Alex’s natural power and controlling nature filled her soul with joy. She liked this quiet vibe. The lord and master thing.

At Pete’s, they parked in Finn’s marked space. Knowing there was a security camera on the spot, Alex quite dramatically pretended to urinate on a sign declaring the parking spot reserved for the owner. She did her part by waving her arms, hanging her head, and looking about furtively as if someone might catch her husband taking a leak in a parking lot. They were a great team.

Taking his arm when he offered, Meghan strode along confidently at his side. It was a high-energy night at their local watering hole—a night that would end with Alex at the drums—so they were dressed for what was ahead.

She was rocking a belted surplice top that perfectly draped her boobs and a pair of her favorite stretchy jeans—the ones she felt made her ass look great.

Thunder Cock was wearing a vintage Pink Floyd T-shirt, black, of course, and what he called his drumming jeans. This pair had a rip in one knee. They were her favorites too because of the way they fit and the enhancement factor.

Enhancement factor. She snickered mentally and glanced down. Her husband had an attractive package.

“I’ve reserved the backstage sex salon for us.” Alex sniggered as they approached the door.

The revolving door nature of the cubbyhole they’d all claimed for their wickedness was already a family legend.

“Who’s before us?” she sweetly asked to Alex’s bark of amused laughter.

The wall of muscle at the front door snapped to attention when Alex approached. A second, smaller slab of muscle waiting beside the door with a wand and some wristbands respectfully lowered the unnecessary equipment and also stood at attention.

“How’s it looking?” her husband inquired when they stopped walking.

“Close to capacity. No issues.”

“Good. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Alex kept his hand over the one she threaded through his arm. Taking her cues from him, she smiled and nodded to the security but said nothing.

“Whoa,” she murmured when they entered. “This is crazy.”

The whoops and hollers from the bullpen sounded like a big crowd was watching the riding competition. Alex motioned toward the back room where a standing-room-only crowd watched the poker tournament.

“Half of Justice is vying for a shot at Remy. Finn says she’s practically unbeatable. I wonder who made the cut for the finals.”

“Red! Look! Hot wings!” Tori waved a napkin and a chicken wing dripping in one of the bar’s signature hot sauces. “Saved you a seat but you have to hurry.”

She laughed and waved. “May I?” she asked Alex.

He was pleased that she asked and smiled. “This might be one of those times when you earn points for good behavior.”

“No.” The word rushed out of her mouth.

His eyes widened. “Did you say no?”

She hugged his arm. “Let me rephrase. I meant, no thank you, Alex. I want to do this. Behave isn’t the right word, but you know what I mean. You shouldn’t have to reward me for it.”

Alex smiled with approval. He patted her hand. “Go have fun. I need to talk to Drae anyway.”

All day, she’d wanted to ask what was going on, but between her acting out and the thing with Zeus, it felt right to step back and let Alex handle everything. When he wanted her to know, he’d bring her into his confidence. Until then, she was his wife, and nothing was more important than that.

Drae tried to read Alex as they stood around a bar top table and talked over a longneck bottle.

“Before I say this next thing, Drae, I want you to know that I fully realize how fucked up it is.”

He studied the Major’s face. The guy wasn’t giving anything away. “Have at it, man.”

Expecting something serious to come out of his mouth, Drae was surprised when Alex chuckled. “I think it’s funny what you did. Oliver and Ethan are wild cards. That little fucker won’t know who they are.”

No joke but even after all these years, Drae puffed with pride at Alex’s praise. “Ethan came up with the idea. He thought putting Roman on Zimmerman was a waste of an asset.”

“Liking the part where they’re gonna make him think they’re acting for Zimmerman’s handlers.”

“Right?” Drae sniggered. He leaned closer to Alex. “No blowback as long as Ethan keeps his fucking Justice tattoo covered.”

“He’ll be careful. That guy has ice in his veins.”

They concentrated on their drinks. A few tables away, their wives had assembled a crew and were destroying baskets of Pete’s hot wings. Drae noted that Alex’s eyes rarely drifted far from Meghan. He took a chance and asked what nobody else would.

“You two all right?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Alex snapped.

“Hey, lower your weapon, man. It was just a question. You two got tongues wagging the other night. Did you really think nobody was going to ask?”

Alex seemed to weigh Drae’s comment. Either that or he was deciding how to answer.

“Everything is fine, okay? But there is something. Something’s bothering my wife, but I’m a little distracted at the moment with other shit. When everything calms down, maybe she’ll chill out. I don’t know, but bullshit like what happened today doesn’t help.”

“I missed a lot of what was going on with Victoria when she was spiraling out of control. Can’t offer much advice except not to overlook anything. As in nothing. The smallest thing can be the biggest clue.”

Alex turned to look at Red. It felt like he was going to say something but must have thought better of it. Drae understood the push and pull of navigating a marriage and sometimes needing advice.

“I’m tired,” he eventually said.

Unsure of the context, Drae kept silent.

The exuberance surrounding them and the crowd of people having fun seemed off-kilter while they faced so many threats. It was surreal.

Out of the fucking blue, he blurted out, “Victoria and I don’t always get around to the birth control.”

Alex’s instant bark of laughter revealed what a bizarre thing it was that he just said. “What the fuck do you want me to do about it?”

Drae made a face and hung his head. “What can I say? I like having kids.”

“You’re not the one doing the hard work,” Alex reminded him.

“Keeping my wife barefoot and pregnant won’t work. She like shoes too much, so I’m thinking maybe we might look at adopting too. Like my sister. She and Tyler surprised me when they adopted Annie. ”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” Alex muttered. He was looking at the floor. “That’s my jaw down there someplace.”

“I know, right?” He rolled one shoulder. “The dad thing. I’m sure you guys thought I’d be the last one, but fuck, man, Daniel changed everything.”

“I hear you, Drae. Some days, I want to ignore everything and do nothing but be with Meghan and the twins. Hell, most days.” He scraped a hand through his hair.

They looked at each other, nodding and sighing.

“Dude,” Drae grated. “We have to put this thing to rest.”

Alex nodded gravely. “Agreed. I just hope at the end of it, we’re all in one piece.”

Jace watched Sophie’s performances from a dark corner of the transformed dining room. She was having the time of her life, and he was beyond happy to do his part by acting put out with her theatrical and very unladylike behavior.

His mother would have a heart attack if she could see this. Delacroix women did not perform in public. He loved his mom, but she was brought up with several silver spoons crammed in her throat, came from a generation that cared about social status, and after all that, had a bit of a stick up her ass about the Delacroix family’s provenance.

He chuckled. The so-called Delacroix pedigree couldn’t compete with the Valleja-Marquez lineage. Dear old mom was in for a bit of a shock if she thought her son had the upper hand in that regard.

Looking around at the cheering crowd, he shook his head in wonder and smirked at the rowdy biker dudes and cowboys egging his fiancée on. Little did they know she was using their enthusiasm to push her performance to the top of the leaderboard. The more they hooted and hollered, the more outrageous she got.

A soft, husky laugh near his shoulder had him turning toward the sound. The expression Calder wore told Jace that Sophie’s uncle had seen this before.

“Hidden talents,” he muttered through an enormous grin.

Jace rolled his eyes. “Someone has to explain to me how she can lose her balance on an escalator, but when atop a mechanical bull, and in heels no less, she turns into an Olympic gymnast.”

“That’s my doing,” Calder proudly exclaimed. “Taught her to surf when she was a toddler. By the time she was a teenager, she could ride a wave and make a peanut butter sandwich at the same time.”

“Are you serious?” Jace cried. “Oh my god! That explains so much.”

A raucous cheer lifted the roof off Pete’s. They looked at the same time and laughed in unison. Jace’s red satin-clad cowgirl ladylove was standing on the bull, waving her white hat and doing a shimmy that defied gravity and a jerking bull.

“Is there a trophy for this?” he drily asked. “There better be.”

Calder smacked him on the back. “She’ll drive Finn nuts if there isn’t. To the victor go the spoils!”

“Where’s your wife?” Jace asked. “Is she keeping a low profile?”

“I’m in the doghouse at the moment, so she’s teaching me a lesson by doing her own thing.” He pointed at the arch leading back to the bar. “I believe at this exact moment, she is supervising the ladies.”

Jace comically cringed. “Doghouse? Yikes. That doesn’t sound good. What did you do?”

“If I’ve learned anything at all about the complex mystery that is a female, it’s that they see things through a different lens. Politely trying not to rock a boat in public translates much differently in a woman’s mind.”

“Oh.” Jace sniggered. “So you were a douche about something?”

“I had a momentary lapse of sanity and forgot that no matter what the circumstance, my wife comes first. Sometimes being polite isn’t the way to go.”

“Ouch, but I hear you. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, but thanks. I’m on it. Only have to make a mistake once. We’re heading out to Colorado right after this craziness wraps up. We’ll hang back long enough to be a part of Meghan’s family photo call, but then we’re literally getting on a plane right after. The Camerons will be joining us later, and I think the time away will do us good.”

Barry’s booming voice came thundering through the PA system. “Last call, fellas! Come on, guys! There’s got to be at least one real man in this crowd of pudknocking wannabe yahoos! Isn’t there anyone out there willing to challenge this little lady?”

“Little lady? Bah!” Jace chuckled. “He’d better watch it, or she’ll take him down in front of his new wife, and poor Barry will never be the same.”

“That’s my niece!” Calder proudly exclaimed. “She’s a handful, dude. Sure you’re up for it?”

“Can’t wait.”

Jace saw Calder regard him with an odd expression, so he asked, “What?”

“Cristián told me that you and Sophia are playing it old school. Or believably pretending.”

Jace colored. It wasn’t like him to react that way. “It’s so not cool that you guys, the whole damn family, have no shame or secrets. Isn’t anything private?”

“Bah!” Calder barked. “Ah-ha-ha. Jace,” he quipped with a lot of laughter, “the whole of Family Justice is a wondrous thing. I really believe our strength comes from the solidarity. We are an equal opportunity bunch of nuts who take turns in the spotlight. If you’re holding out till the honeymoon, you gotta know that after the women mutter about how sweet and romantic it is, a betting pool will spring up. I know my niece, and my money is on your downfall. But good luck,” he merrily hooted.

More cheering accompanied some dumb shlub’s effort to unseat Sophie from the top spot. He and Calder watched and snickered. No way did this guy have what it took.

He was wrong but only by half. The flannel wearing cowboy lasted longer than anyone else despite the handler’s attempts to throw him off. But eventually, he went flying sideways and ended up on his face.

“I think that’s gonna be it,” Calder remarked. He turned to Jace and shook his hand. “Congratulations. Your fiancée is now a bull riding champion.”

After the comical praise, Jace watched as Sophie took a victory lap through her cheering fans. There were lots of hand slapping and high fives. He couldn’t help but grin.

“Here she comes.” Calder snickered. “Better buckle up, cowboy,” he taunted. “A woman who just bested a room full of men is on a very special kind of high.” He slapped his back again. “Like I said, good luck.”

The guy walked away laughing as Sophie shoved her way through the crowd to get to him. Her cheeks were ablaze with color, and her eyes were sparkling. She also had a distinctive vibe that echoed Calder’s words.

His inner voice sniggered. Special kind of high, indeed.

“Unf,” she grunted when their bodies pressed together after she lunged at him. Her arms wound around his neck. “Kiss me, you sexy fool.”

Swinging her around to move them deeper into the shadows, Jace responded enthusiastically to her demand. They clung and kissed for several minutes.

“I won,” she whispered into his ear when their lips separated. “Grand champion.”

The vast options available to him in the category of spontaneous innuendo made choosing a good one kind of hard.

“I enjoy watching you ride, mon coeur.”

She gasped and laughed in one breath. “Why, Jace! You naughty man. Is that a challenge, monsieur?”

He wagged his brows. “It was either comment on your riding or throw down the ultimate gauntlet with a promise to ride you hard. How’d I do? Yes? No?”

Her body quivered. The subtle movement and Calder’s taunting “good luck” got his full attention. They hadn’t set a date yet. They owned a home together that they hadn’t moved into. And regardless of nuance or a strictly legal interpretation, they had a kid together. The only thing not on that list was full intimacy.

Was he insane for wanting to wait? Calder was right—he wasn’t going to make it. They either accelerated their wedding plans or found creative ways to manage the deepening passion that had been building between them for months.

“Um,” Sophie purred as she answered his question. “Is there a way to say yes please to both without sounding greedy?”

They were far enough in the shadows that he felt free to admire her ass with his hands. When he grabbed her butt cheeks and yanked her pelvis forward, Jace watched her eyes as he ground into her.

“Have you ever had a lap dance?”

He blinked and shook his head. Had he heard her right? “I don’t understand the question.”

“Oh, right.” She snorted. Undulating her hips in a way that caused his brain to seize up, she said, “I don’t know what they call that sort of thing in Europe, but here, it’s practically in every businessman’s arsenal. Lap dances and tittie bars with clients. You’ve never? Is that what you’re saying?”

She smiled sweetly, but her eyes said, “Gotcha.”

“As you say, it’s a business perk around the world, but Alex would have my balls if I tried something like that with Justice. Now, if you need to push this button, fine. The answer is yes. I have on more than a single occasion visited the VIP room. Satisfied?”

“Oh god, no!” She was laughing. “We haven’t even started. Did you like it?”

He scoffed. “Sophia. Come on now. Ask me what’s really on your mind.”

She bit her lip, clung, and rubbed her body on his. “What would you say if I learned how to do it? A lap dance.”

“What?”

“Ingrid is offering a private workshop. Haven’t seen the sign-up sheet yet, but it’s a sure bet that most of the girls will be on it.”

“Wait,” he murmured. “Hold on. What? Ingrid is teaching lap dancing?”

“Privately, yes. She says a group thing doesn’t work because every couple likes different things. Things you don’t take out and parade around in front of others.”

Okay. He needed a moment to process this.

Before him stood a gorgeously sexy woman dressed in bordello red satin who’d just publicly seduced half of Bendover’s male population with her unbelievably naughty bull riding. And she was innocently asking if he wanted her to learn how to seduce just him with a lap dance taught by Bendover’s reigning queen of freedom and spirit? Oh my god. He’d be out of his fucking mind to object.

“Sophia, my love, you astonish me. I’m on my knees here, okay?”

She giggled. “Okay.”

“Yes to the workshop. After that bull ride performance, I do believe you could redefine what a lap dance is.”

The smile that moved across her face made him very happy. Her expression glowed with joy.

“I’m already checking out attire.”

He laughed. “There’s a wardrobe requirement?”

“Sweetie,” she cooed next to his mouth. “Think of the possibilities. Little Bo Peep lap dance. Schoolgirl lap dance. Secretary lap dance.”

Jace threw his head back and had a hearty laugh.

“What the hell am I going to do with you, woman?” he barked and smacked her butt for emphasis.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Angie crossed her feet, ignored her ankles, and put both hands on her bump. Daddy was strumming his guitar, and Baby girl Sullivan started to boogie with the beat.

She waved Parker closer. “Come here. Say hi.”

He put the guitar down and got on his knees at her side. With his hands holding their precious baby bump, he kissed her belly and crooned, “Da-dee loves ma-mee, and we made a ba-bee.”

Pressing an ear to the bump, he listened and then looked at her with a happy smile. “She says she’s bored, and that Daddy should play louder.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever you say.”

“I love you, Angelina Nöelle Inés Valleja-Marquez Sullivan. That’s what I say.”

He kissed her soundly.

Finn stuck his head around the corner and slapped the wall twice. “Five minutes.”

Parker answered with a grunt. He fussed over her and made sure she had everything she needed. “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”

She caressed his handsome face. “I’m fine. All those people would just be too much right now. But I’ll be front and center for the band battle with the rest of Thunder’s groupies, don’t you worry.”

“Do you want me to send one of the girls back here to hang?”

“Oh, lord, no! They’re here to have fun, not babysit a pregnant woman.”

He looked unconvinced, but she didn’t know what else to say. Her back was killing her, and this thing with the sausage ankles wasn’t a lot of fun. Add to that a suddenly unstable knee—the result of an old injury from high school field hockey—and she would rather sit this one out.

“You’d better go,” she said in an encouraging voice. “The boys can’t find the stage without you leading the way.”

That made him laugh. She was relieved when his mood lifted. “Did you see Berger? What the actual goddamn fuck with him? I told him three times that this wasn’t a costume night. I get that he’s like a little kid with this shit, but really? A dress?”

She giggled at her husband’s distress. Berger was a handful. “That’s not just any dress. It’s J-Lo’s green Versace.”

“The shiny green boxers are a bit much.”

Finn hollered. “Let’s go!”

“You may go and rock out, Parker Sullivan, but not with your cock out. Understand?”

He saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

He kissed her again and went to the stage. With an hour to kill, she reached into her Star Wars tote bag and pulled out her Kindle. She was in the middle of a juicy story about a lusty duke with a taste for bondage. Tori recommended it as a great way to lose a few hours.

The duke was showing his virgin bride how much fun a good knot was when a knock on the wall at the doorway startled her.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Sullivan. Sorry to bother you. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay in here. A little surprised your husband left you alone.”

Irritated by the intrusion, she frowned at the security agent who shadowed Angie’s every move. She went by Fuller, and as far as anyone knew, her first name was Agent. It was terribly bitchy and judgmental, but she didn’t like the woman’s hair. It was way too short and not at all flattering.

“All good, Agent.” She might have left it at that, but something spurred her to add, “One of the girls is bringing me something to eat.” What she didn’t say was, “No need to get involved.”

An awkward throb of uncomfortable silence followed as the woman regarded Angie with an expression that wasn’t exactly friendly. She was tired of all the hard-ass security people. Tired of the constant scrutiny.

“Very good,” Fuller stated rather coldly. “I’ll leave you to it then.” The minute the obnoxious agent was gone, Angie pulled out her phone and sent a message to Tori, asking her to grab a sandwich off the buffet and bring it to her.

While she waited, her mind filled with one incredible, improbable scenario after another. All of them involving varying levels of danger.

Tori arrived in a hot minute carrying a whole tray of sandwiches and a mound of potato salad the size of a baseball.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “Hey, was my security right outside the door?”

“You mean Beaker? Yeah. She’s out there. Why?”

“Beaker?” she asked with a laugh. “Care to explain?”

Tori laughed. “Muppet character. It’s the hair. They have the same stylist.”

“Muppets, Tori? Really?”

“Danny loves Muppets, what can I say?” She gave her a side hug and patted her tummy. “Not long now, huh?”

“Six weeks. We can’t wait.”

“Are you ready? With the practical stuff, I mean.”

She chuckled and pulled a sour face. “Are you kidding? Between my mom and Aunt Wendy, we have more than enough baby stuff. I was counting baby washcloths. Somehow, we ended up with thirty-four. Who needs that many?”

“Depends on how often you want to do laundry.”

“Oh, right. Good point.”

Tori eyed her critically. “You aren’t eating.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then why did you put out an SOS for food? What’s going on?”

“I got lonely,” she quickly explained. “Didn’t want to be alone.”

“Next time, just ask,” Tori stated. “I don’t have a dog in the fight when the band plays, so feel free, Angie. For real. Don’t separate and sit in isolation when you don’t have to.”

“Thanks,” she said with a squeeze of Tori’s wrist.

“Hey,” the other woman said. “We’re all in this together.”