Domineau plopped onto the newly delivered sofa in her lucky-find two-bedroom house and gave a whoop of satisfaction. She’d been in Bendover for just three days, but holy shit had she been busy.

The two-bedroom bungalow she managed to score with the help of a Flagstaff realtor was absolutely perfect. Finding something from a distance had been nerve-wracking, but she trusted the realtor not to fuck with her. Not with the promise of a hefty finder’s fee hanging in the balance.

The woman came through and found her a quaint house that wouldn’t be too hard to manage. What sold her was the detached garage – someplace she could stash the Harley and her most prized possession, her dad’s 1970 SS Chevelle.

It was Saturday, and a gazillion things were a priority on her to-do list if she intended to show up at Justice bright and early Monday morning and be prepared to take the reins.

First thing was groceries. She was sick of takeout and fast food. Second was dropping off her shit-tacular rental car and picking up the menacing black SUV that was necessary, considering her new position.

After that, it was more of the same – unpacking the mountain of boxes she’d shipped from New York.

A movement in her periphery view was all the heads-up she got before a black fur ball leaped onto the back of the couch and then lay across her shoulder. Soft purring and gently kneading paws brought a smile to her face.

Turning to rub her nose in soft fur, she chuckled. “Hey girl! I thought you’d hide all day.”

Roommate, pain in the ass, and a great listener, the cat pretty much represented Domineau’s entire social circle. Her constant companion for the past two years, the quirky feline’s coat was jet black except for an amusing heart-shaped patch of white.

The cat was a lot like her. Standoffish, suspicious, annoyingly watchful. She was also a fierce little fucker who shredded the mailman’s leg one day not long after she brought her home. The stupid guy got what he deserved for trying to kick her out of the way. It was summer, and as usual, balls fucking hot in D.C., so the mail carrier rocked a pair of those fugly postal service blue shorts. She remembered laughing at the guy’s distress when the cat’s claws did a number on his calf.

That was the day the take-no-shit feline got a name change. The cat lady she got her from had called the black fur ball Lucy. But Lucy was a common name – not right for an uncommon animal. After a lot of thought, the only name that came to mind and stuck like glue was from an old Jimmy Stewart movie.

So Pywakett it was, and holy shit – what an appropriate name! The fucking cat was better than a Rottweiler when it came to guard duty. When people were around, she’d skulk and watch. On more than one occasion, she’d become aggressive for no reason and ended up scaring people shitless.

And it was pretty goddamn funny as far as she was concerned.

A bunch of rat bastards from her CIA days had given her shit about the cat one night during a drunken tear. It was all kinds of funny how pissy guys got when someone or something challenged their authority and fall down hilarious that in this case the perceived threat came from a four-legged, six pound cat. They taunted her about Pywakett’s snotty personality. When they asked why she even had the annoying beast, she informed them that the cat was her secret weapon against pud-whacking shitbags like them. Any man who could get Pywakett on their side had a shot, she’d said. And since everyone had run for the door so far, the only conclusion possible was that all men were secretly pussies.

Their sputtering outrage was typical. Men didn’t like being made to look or feel stupid, and since the challenger in this case was a house pet, they took offense and grumbled like a losing team.

Abruptly standing, she brushed her hands against her jeans clad thighs.

“Keep an eye out, Py. I’ve gotta hit up the grocery store.”

Her gaze swept the room. Learning a new place takes time, but she already knew where her security weaknesses were – something else on her to-do list. A trip to Home Depot was a priority too.

Satisfied that the place was as secure as it was gonna get for now, she stroked Py’s head, muttered, “Be back soon,” and headed out.

The second she opened the front door, a blast of desert heat hit her in the face. Though the official start of summer was last week it was already scorching in Arizona. For the briefest moment, she second-guessed the advisability of jeans but knew there was no fucking way she’d be caught in public wearing anything else.

Habit made her double check that the garage door was shut and locked. It wouldn’t be pretty if anything happened to her dad’s Chevelle.

Finding the little grocer a few miles from the house happened completely by accident. Navigating by the rental car’s GPS, she’d been familiarizing herself with the surrounding neighborhoods and was on her way to a mega grocer when she stumbled on the smaller market.

“Could this be any better?” she mumbled aloud. Maneuvering the car into a parking spot, Domineau noted two Hispanic dudes, standing by the trashcan, sharing a laugh. A woman totally engrossed in her phone came out of the market with a bag of groceries and nearly ate the pavement when a delivery truck lumbered past.

People and their damn phones. Ugh. No situational awareness what-so-fucking-ever.

An older gentleman who approached the entrance at the same time as she did stopped to hold the door and issue a polite greeting. She dusted off her rarely used friendly expression and nodded as she swept into the store.

The Bendover locals were pleasant types. As a matter of fact, from the time she deplaned in Phoenix until this very second, friendly, nice people were all she encountered. So different from the snarling, mostly disagreeable New Yorkers she’d gotten used to.

In no time at all, she’d filled a cart, shaken hands with the butcher, tasted hot sauces at a sampling station, scored an extra bunch of flowers when the worker in the floral department all but forced her to take them, and signed up for a shopper’s card. She liked coupons, maybe too much, and had an eagle eye for deals and specials.

The cashier took friendly to an eleven and went off on a ramble about pets after scanning Domineau’s two dozen cans of cat food. It was while she waited for the total on her haul that she noticed the community bulletin board along the wall leading to the exit. She should really stop on her way out and check for people who did yard work.

Shelling out a wad of cash, she pushed the bag filled cart to the bulletin board and began scanning the business cards and paper ads. Using her phone, she took shots of possibilities and was about to move along when she noticed a poster taped to the wall.

The name Whiskey Pete’s at the top of the poster rang a bell. Roman insisted the place made a wicked cocktail and had, according to Matty, the world’s best grilled cheese sandwich. Definitely worth checking out. Everyone needed a local watering hole, and Pete’s sounded like a place she’d be comfortable. About to keep moving, she glanced back at the poster and froze.

Wait a minute. Desert Thunder? Wasn’t that Alex and Parker’s band? Quickly pulling up a productivity app on her phone, she searched and found the Justice notes she’d been gathering. It took a minute, but then she saw it. Yep. There it is, she thought. Right here in black and white. Desert Thunder. And they were appearing tonight.

How fucking lucky was she?

Her plan was to just appear from nowhere and start work, she was Smoke, after all. It appeared as if the universe was handing her an even better way to make her presence in Bendover known.

That was what she’d do! Just show up as if nothing was unusual about her catching Alex’s band on a Saturday night. The possibilities for shock and awe made her laugh out loud.

Her mind made up, she shifted into another mode and began pre-gaming. They wouldn’t go on till nine o’clock – plenty of opportunity to get her place in some semblance of order and still have time for cold beer, bar pretzels, and rock and roll, Bendover style.

* * *

Meghan looked up when Ashleigh came bustling through the kitchen door. Pushing aside the parenting magazine she was studying like it held the answers to every universal question, she hopped off the kitchen stool and hurried to help her mother-in-law.

“My lord, Mom. What is all this?” she asked with a lighthearted chuckle. 

Ashleigh’s normally unflappable manner was nowhere in sight as she struggled with a haul of bags and boxes that threatened to crush the little woman. When she started dropping bags, her foot shot out and kicked a large carton of diapers in Meghan’s direction. 

Meghan’s brows bumped together, and she frowned at the door. Pushing the carton of diapers aside, she scrambled to help Ashleigh disentangle from the bag attack. “Where’s Ben? Why isn’t he helping?” 

Freed from her burdens, Ashleigh straightened and flipped her long blond hair over a shoulder. Her cheeks were bright pink – a result of the desert heat and acting as a pack mule.

Dressed in what Meghan called her mother-in-law’s grandmother uniform, Ashleigh Marquez rocked an empire waist summer dress in floaty chiffon with a gorgeous see-through topper and a pair of simple sandals that were kicked off the second she went upstairs to the nursery. 

The pretty topper got tossed over the back of a stool. Ashleigh fanned herself a few times before she gathered her long mane of hair into a haphazard tail and used a stretchy hairband she had on her wrist to tie it up. 

Rushing to the refrigerator where a pitcher of Carmen’s special brew lemonade chilled, Meghan poured a short glass and handed it off with an amused smile. Nothing leveled a playing field faster than three grandchildren born just days apart. Ashleigh’s transformation from wealthy and gracefully aging hippie wild child to a grandmother with zero fucks to give for what anybody thought was endlessly amusing. The other day, she showed up wearing yoga shorts, a Black Sabbath t-shirt, and sneakers. Alex was still yammering on about the changes in his mom. When he teased her about it, she drily informed him that baby burps and leaky diapers were best handled in a casual fashion. 

Shut him up, right quick!

Ashleigh took but a few sips of the lemonade when the door flew open again, and a harried, sweaty Ben came through it, backside first, as he pulled a utility cart piled high with more diaper cartons. 

With one quick look, Meghan saw that there were diapers in every size up to toddler. Her jaw fell. What the hell was she supposed to do with all these boxes?

“Um, Mom,” she muttered. “What have you done?”

Meghan detected grandmother number two skipping down the back stairs singing a children’s ditty. Maggie O’Brien came around the corner and stumbled to a halt. She carried a drawstring laundry bag and had a giant wet spot on one shoulder of her shirt. Both were no doubt courtesy of the twins.

She took one look at Ashleigh and the stockpile of diapers Ben was still trying to navigate and burst out laughing.

“Been to the big box warehouse again?” she asked with a chuckle of amusement. Holding the laundry bag up, she said, “Give me a minute, and I’ll help,” then dashed off through the breezeway to the laundry room. 

Ben was sweating like crazy but maintained his usual affable manner as he wheeled the cart into position near the back stairs. The old house had a lot going for it, but no matter how they tried shifting and rearranging space, there just wasn’t a doable way of putting in a small elevator like the St. John’s had done. So Ben was stuck lugging the dozens of cartons up the stairs.

“Where’s my son?” Ashleigh asked. “Maybe a box brigade would be simpler.”

Meghan fixed her mother-in-law with an amused smirk. “Now where do you think he is?”

Ashleigh laughed. Ben snickered, and as her ma came back to the kitchen, she filled in the blanks. 

“He’s standing sentry in the nursery. In case Aiden or Stevie sneeze. Or fart.”

There was a half-second of silence and then they all cracked up laughing. Poor Alex. He was single handedly providing much of the material for the endless ribbing and teasing all the new parents endured. And she loved him all the more for the insane way he went about it.

“Major Daddy is on duty,” Meghan quipped.

Ashleigh and Ma hugged it out and shared a whispered laugh while Meghan watched the two grandmothers through love-glazed eyes. She’d have been so fucked the past few weeks without both of them stepping up to gently guide her and Alex through their initial unfamiliar steps of the parent dance.

Carmen came through from the breezeway with a basket piled high with clean laundry. The twins went through a mind-boggling number of changes every day, so the housekeeper slash honorary granny was busier than usual.

“I’m sorry for you two,” Carmen muttered. She tilted her head at Ashleigh and then at her. “I think he might be nuts.”

“What’s he done this time?” Ashleigh asked.

Carmen set the laundry basket at her feet, straightened, and did some tut-tutting.

“Your son,” she said to Ashleigh before pinning Meghan to the spot with an arched brow smirk, “and your husband, actually checked my CPR status with Betty.”

Ma cracked up and added, “He asked if I had first-aid training too! Can you imagine?”

Her mother-in-law shook her head but grinned ear to ear. “Yes, that’s Alexander. He’s always been that way. The devil is in the details.”

Hmm. Meghan asked, “Is this all because you guys are babysitting tonight?”

Ben chimed in. “Wait,” he said with a laugh. “It’s not just the babysitting. He made me and Remy endure a car seat meeting.”

“A what?” she asked.

“Maybe I should call it a training session,” he replied. “First, we had to study the manufacturer’s instructions. Then he demonstrated – twice. I worried that Remington might laugh and set him off, but she played along.”

“Oh, dear lord,” she muttered. Her poor beast. He was having quite the time trying to babyproof Planet Earth.

“There’s more.” Ben snickered. “Then he used the stopwatch to time how long it took us to secure the seats. The Major isn’t exactly fucking around these days.”

Truer words had never been said. At the present moment, fucking around wasn’t on Alex’s agenda, and she was starting to worry. Just a little, but still.

They were supposed to have their first evening out since the twins were born. The babies were six weeks old, she was feeling more and more like her pre-pregnant self, and it was time. So a night at Pete’s with the usual suspects and a Desert Thunder performance to semi-celebrate Alex’s and Tori’s birthdays seemed like the perfect solution.

If only it were that simple.

She listened to Ashleigh and Ma banter about the marvels on sale at the big box store and worried about Ben lugging all that crap by himself up the back stairs.

The rhythm of Villa life had barely altered with the arrival of the twins. What had changed were she and Alex.

Absently chewing the inside of her cheek, Meghan let the anxious flutter in her belly do its thing and then sent the gnawing upset packing with a couple of deep breaths. It was no understatement that yoga kept her grounded. If not for her daily practice and the simple fact that she was healthy and in great shape, she might have followed Tori’s path after Daniel was born and fallen into a postpartum funk.

That was why tonight’s outing was important. She suspected that if there were such a thing as postpartum father distress, Alex would qualify for the diagnosis. He was a jumble of raw nerves made worse by a total lack of control over just about everything.

But he wasn’t the only one who needed a reset. She was struggling too but for different reasons.

Once she was on the flip side of pregnancy and a multiple birth, reality slammed into her with tremendous force. Practically overnight, she became obsessed with every little physical change brought on by motherhood. Her nipples were puffy and sore. She didn’t know exactly what was happening in her lady part zone and was afraid to find out. And why the hell did none of her shoes fit?

For those and many other reasons, she was having a hard time. Unsure, embarrassed, and confused, she’d staring wearing pajamas and went to great lengths not to let her husband catch her naked.

And then there was the whole sex after baby issue or, in their case, sex after a natural delivery of twins. She was terrified that something might have changed as a result and didn’t know what to do.

Yesterday, at her six-week check-up, Dr. Sterner sat her down and had a frank discussion about marital intimacy. Though part of her wanted to die from mortification, she listened carefully. The things her doctor said were important, not just for her general health but, more importantly, for the health of her marriage.

She was a bit confused, though, because a common post-pregnancy theme seemed to center on a new mom’s loss of libido.

Was that a joke or was she a sex junkie? The question was real because, no shit, she lusted after her husband morning, noon, and night.

But lusting after and feeling comfortable in her skin were two different things. She needed Alex – desperately. Needed to feel him close and make love like they used to. But fear of the unknown was holding her back. Not even Dr. Sterner’s seal of approval made a difference. She wasn’t ready, and she was scared.

Laughter from the other side of the kitchen shook Meghan from her reverie. Ma and Ashleigh were FaceTiming her da and telling him all about Alex’s new dad antics.

Da. She sighed. He’d stayed for ten days after the babies came and then skedaddled back to Boston, leaving his wife behind. She loved having her mother around, but with the current state of things, she could use a little of Paddy O’Brien’s patriarchal wisdom.

She motioned to the two grandmothers that she was headed to the nursery and picked up two cartons of diapers before carefully navigating the back stairs. Ben passed her in the hallway and told her where he’d stashed the baby gear. Depositing the diaper cartons in a spare room, she hurried along to the nursery.

Alex was in the rocking chair with Stevie snuggled against his chest. The baby was asleep, and his eyes were closed, so she moved as quietly as possible. In his crib, Aiden was awake but not complaining. She thought this quirk of his was cute. He didn’t start caterwauling the minute his eyes opened. Instead, he took a much more chill approach. When she peeked over the crib’s rails and he saw her, his head turned, and his sweet baby boy face lit with joy.

She tenderly patted his tummy, blew a silent kiss, and smiled at him. His arms and legs waved and waggled.

“Hi, Mommy,” Alex said in a hushed, sleepy voice.

Her body responded before she answered. Even without the scorching hot intimacy, they were still attuned to each other. His power called to her, and she wordlessly moved to him until her fingers feathered the side of his face. She bent over and kissed his lips – then kissed Stevie’s head.

“Was she fussing?”

He answered her whispered question with a cheeky grin. “No. I just wanted to hold her.”

My god but she loved this man. His heart was deeper than the ocean. She and the babies, however many they made, would always be safe with him. His love for her was an absolute. So was the fierceness he showed as a father. He took being a parent seriously.

“You’ll spoil her,” she teased.

“Then she’ll be just like her mommy.”

Her grin was genuine because he spoiled her rotten every chance he got.

“What time is it?” he asked while sitting up and shifting the baby in his arms.

“Late afternoon. Your dad is bringing Sophie and Teo, so we’ll have family dinner a little later and then the adults are officially on babysitting duty.”

She read the conflict in his expression and spoke quickly to stop the chatter inside his head.

“I’m breaking out a new outfit for tonight. Pretty, pretty, pretty sure you’ll likey very much.”

Her conscience groaned and called a foul for unfair advantage.

Oh well, she thought – thereby silencing further censure. Alex needed to release the pressure valve. The one she heard hissing constantly. He was wound way too goddamn tight and could blow at any time.

Recalling a previous blow-up – the one that almost ended them as a couple – Meghan held firm. Drae warned her at the time that Alex’s love for her and the life they had didn’t change the man inside. The one with some pretty fearsome demons. She knew this was how it would be.

He made a lame attempt to throw up a roadblock and muttered a bunch of nonsense that ended with, “Maybe we should stay in.”

Expecting this very thing, she jumped on his reticence and laid it on thick. Running her fingers through his shaggy mane, she held his face in her hands, and in a hushed murmur, she told him, “I’m looking forward to getting reacquainted with Thunder Cock.”

His eyes zoomed in on hers.

“Plus, it’s your birthday celebration! Last stop before forty. Admit it,” she teased. “Lording the next twelve months over Parker’s head is kinda fun, huh?”

She giggled and kissed him soundly.

“Now stop being a fuddy-duddy, put on those jeans I like so much, and for heaven’s sake, change your shirt. Spit up on your shoulder isn’t a good look for a night out.”

Stevie’s head popped up, and she gurgled what Meghan assumed was a greeting. Her daughter went from out cold to wide awake and perky in record time. More happy cooing and gurgling followed and then Aiden started too. She went to the crib, scooped him up, and brought him to Alex because brother and sister needed face time too.

Pulling the ottoman next to Alex’s legs, she sat and enjoyed the sight of her beautiful baby humans safe and sound in their father’s arms. Her heart was full to overflowing. Sometimes, she still couldn’t believe that she and her sexy dominant beast made a couple of babies from the scorching passion they shared.

Aiden had a wiggle fest going on while Stevie cooed with contentment. They loved daddy time.

For whatever ungodly reason, she opened her mouth and blurted the thunderbolt thought that appeared in her mind.

“Let’s not wait for another baby.”

Alex looked at her, blinked, bumped his brows in confusion, and grunted, “Uh, excuse me, what?”

Meghan tried to clear her thoughts, but the bold declaration remained.

“I want to have another baby?”

He gaped at her for a second. “Is that a question or a statement?”

Laughter burbled up from her belly and rolled across her tongue. She grinned with sheepish delight. “Major,” she replied with a tad of enlisted man snap, “I do believe that may very well be a demand.”

Alex laughed, pulled it together for a moment, and then laughed some more. Both babies gurgled and cooed right along.

“Well.” He snorted as a playful gleam shone in his eyes. “Your topping tendencies are in full form today!”

A heated blush made her neck feel like it was on fire. She smirked and chomped on her lip for good measure. Alex liked a well-played lip bite.

“Was that too much?” She giggled. “It was, wasn’t it? Sorry, baby. It’s just that when I see you holding them, my ovaries quiver. I’m afraid it can’t be helped.”

He laugh-snorted. “That’s a new one! Quivering ovaries.”

“It’s a thing. I swear. There was a global women’s conference, and we all decided that ovaries quiver and explode.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” her sexy man beast growled, “but we’ve got a horse and cart dilemma.”

“What do you mean?”

The look he gave her made Meghan’s breath catch in her throat. Did he realize the possessive and over-the-top lustiness he put off? Good lord, the man was hot times infinity.

“Cart before the horse is all I’m saying.”

His smoldering expression did crazy things. She was shocked when raw desire made her body clench tight, and a flood of arousal soaked her panties.

“We haven’t made love since these two rascals arrived.” He jostled the twins and got them to smile. Then he honed in on her eyes like a guided missile. “And you’re doing everything you can to deny me.”

She winced because he was partly right. She wanted him like freakin’ crazy, but the fear that childbirth would change their sex life was making her act out in unusual ways.

Should she confess her fears? Maybe try to explain the disquieting shyness that has a hold of her?

This was unfamiliar territory, and she didn’t know which way was up. Nor did she see a way forward. One thing her husband insisted on was honesty and communication. She searched for the words.

“It’s not you that I’m denying, and I’m sorry if that’s how it feels. I’m just, ugh.” Her frustration level began to rise. “Afraid. I’m afraid.”

He nodded. His voice when he spoke, solemn. “I know.”

A tiny thought bubble in the furthest corner of her mind was trying to break free. She was more than a little shocked by the feelings this bubble brought out of her.

Leaning forward slightly, she put both hands on his thigh because she needed the physical connection if she was going to spill her guts.

What she wanted from him was the height of unfair. He had enough on his plate without adding mind reading to the buffet.

But wasn’t this exactly what occupied the center of their union? Her heart double thumped its agreement and gave her the courage to speak.

“Please don’t be upset with me, Alex.”

His face registered complete shock. “Upset? Meghan, Jesus. What the hell is going on? Just say it.”

Ignoring the submissive implication of the gesture because lowering her forehead to his thigh felt like what she needed to do, Meghan centered and took a deep breath.

As her head rose, she kept her eyes closed and spoke from her heart. “I want you to decide. No, no, that’s not right. I need you to decide, Alex. There’s too much happening in my head, and it’s sort of freaking me out.”

She looked at him. His face was that of a well-pleased man.

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you, I know that.”

One corner of his mouth curled up. She had the feeling that he’d been waiting for her to say something. To surrender. A familiar tingle, one she hadn’t felt for months, danced along her spine.

Alex gave a husky chuckle and winked. “Ah-ha! There she is.”

“She?”

“My wild Irish goddess,” he explained. “I see her peeking at me.” Sounding rather like a pirate captain who’d just found out all the gold was his, her beastly husband growled, “I’ll take care of everything.”

A girlish giggle shot from her mouth. Alex in dominant mode turned her into a sex-starved twit.

“Starting with a request,” he silkily drawled.

Her breath caught. Oh, my god. He was starting right now?

Her lip chomp was for real this time. She pushed hair behind an ear and looked at him with downcast eyes. She couldn’t recall ever being this overcome with shyness.

“This outfit you spoke of. I’m assuming is a dress of some sort?”

She nodded.

He leered when making a demand. “Choose your lingerie knowing that the panties will be in my pocket when I take the stage.”

She swallowed. Hard. Lingerie? Oh, shit. She was still dealing from the big girl panties deck. The thought of struggling to wriggle out of the sensible high-waist undies made her shudder. He was throwing down quite a challenge.

Aiden’s arms flapped, and Stevie was trying out her smile. Her babies were perfect and beautiful. Like her husband.

She ceded control to him with surprising ease. It was what she wanted, after all – for Alex to do that thing he did so well. Take charge. Be in command.

Meghan knew it wasn’t fair to expect him to carry such a heavy weight. Their sex life should be a mutual decision, but she was a scattered mess. A happy and contented scattered mess that needed a push.

That push began with her panties.

She caught his amused smirk and rolled her eyes for fun.

“One question.”

“Go ahead,” he drawled.

“Who exactly is making the panties demand? The Major or Thunder Cock?”

His short burst of laughter made her feel all warm and tingly.

“Both of them, baby. Both.”

* * *

“Phew.” Meghan grunted. Wiping her wet hands with her t-shirt, she shrugged off the tacky habit with a smirk. She had twins, for heaven’s sake. Translation? Tacky sometimes equaled expedient, and getting shit done the easiest and fastest way possible was part of her new reality.

Parenting! Wheeee!

Checking the time, she made a fast calculation and decided to start hauling ass if she wanted to do a full primp before heading to Pete’s. Her mom, Ashleigh, and Wendy Sullivan were in charge of Aiden, Stevie, and Teo. They were upstairs in the nursery having the time of their lives.

The men were occupied. Drae and her husband had wandered to the back of the house and the drum studio so Alex could warm up.

Sophie went into the courtyard to get Jace on the phone while Tori and Danny hung around the driveway helping Cam and Lacey with the kids. Pretty soon, Ria and Betty would arrive to help wrangle the older boys. Carmen had already called dibs for Lily. The Villa had been transformed into a veritable childcare zone.

“Meesus, cut me a break, please.”

Laughing at Carmen’s gruff scold, she shifted out of the other woman’s way. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, Meghan squeezed and leaned in. “Don’t be mad but I loaded some stuff into the dishwasher.”

Carmen sighed and gave her a pointed look. Mumbling adorably about people in her kitchen, she re-cleaned Meghan’s mess and politely but firmly tried shooing her away.

Approaching footsteps grew louder and louder. They both looked toward the hallway at the back of the house in time to find Alex stomping in their direction.

“Oh, my lord,” Meghan cried out in alarm. “What happened to you?”

Alex snarled, tore through the freezer till he found an ice pack, and sat down with a thud at the kitchen table. He covered the nasty welt turning into an angry bruise on his cheek with the cold pack.

Drae’s laughing voice boomed, “Don’t coddle him, Meghan. That’s what he gets for being a cocky asshole.”

She wheeled around and glared at Draegyn. “Did you smack him?”

“God, I wish.” Drae snickered. He tilted his head in her husband’s direction. “But this one’s all on him.”

Rubbing Alex’s shoulder, she kissed his uninjured cheek and asked if he was okay. She had to force a smile off her face when he grumbled like a baby.

“I will be once Sir Douche-A-Lot unloads the monologue of jokes he’s worked up. Go ahead, you fucker,” he growled to Drae. “Make fun of me and then get the fuck out.”

Carmen flipped a dishtowel across her shoulder and rolled her eyes at Meghan. She was used to these antics and acted generally unimpressed but no one was fooled.

“He needs some practice.”

Meghan blinked before squinting at Drae. “Practice?”

“Yeah. Fingering.”

Carmen snickered a bit too loudly, earning her a black glare from Alex.

It was all Meghan could do not to burst out laughing when she asked as drily as possible, “Did you just say my husband needs fingering practice?”

Alex groaned. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Drae marched to the refrigerator and yanked it open as if he owned the damn place. Fishing around until he located dinner leftovers, he helped himself to a pile of cold grilled flank steak.

“Yep.” He nodded at her with his mouth full. “He can’t finger worth a damn. Musta lost his touch.”

“Excuse me?” she squawked.

Chewing enthusiastically, Drae winked at Carmen and declared, “This is fucking good!”

“It’s all in the marinade,” the housekeeper drawled. “But enough of that ... please continue.”

Hoping that crossing her arms would help control the laughter fighting to break loose, Meghan cocked a hip and an eyebrow and waited for Drae to explain.

“I hate you,” Alex miserably muttered to his old friend.

Draegyn St. John grinned like an idiot.

“So there we were, in the studio. Bam Bam was banging away at his wittle bitty dwum kit trying to impress me with his imagined badassery.”

Alex slammed the ice pack on the table and glared at Drae.

“Anyway,” her husband's right-hand man said with a delighted snicker, “he was getting his Bonham on as the levee broke. Gotta say it was going pretty good. Thunder Cock was definitely finding his groove. And then…”

“Fuck you.”

Drae flipped Alex the bird and started laughing. “He thought he’d get all fancy and shit. Was twirling his sticks but his fingering was off and bam! Smacked himself upside his face.”

She started to giggle, but Drae yelled, “Wait! It gets better.” After a thirty-second attempt to stop cracking up, he added while pointing at her embarrassed husband, “And then he toppled off the drum stool onto his ass.”

The scene Drae described played out in her head. She could hear the Led Zeppelin song and pictured her beast beating the fucking shit out his drums. When she imagined him lifting one of the thick sticks for a showy twirl, a loud snort of amused laughter shot from her mouth. Alex smacking himself with the big stick and falling on his ass had to have been funny as shit.

“Really you two?” Her husband let out a grouchy snort. “Always with the disrespect.”

He arched one brow in her direction. Meghan swallowed the rest of her laughter because she knew her ass was going to feel the consequences of her insolence.

Deciding it was best if she hightailed it out of there, she announced that she was off to shower and dress.

Drae might as well have been invisible when her sexy beast said he’d be along in a few minutes. They stared at each other. She had no problem reading the challenge in his expression.

Words failed her, and she scurried away like a virgin frightened about what she knew was coming.

* * *

He kept an ear on the sounds coming from the shower room while laying out the props intended to rattle his wife’s cage. She wanted him to take control, so he did.

Knowing full well what fueled her passions, he decided on a course of action to begin breaking down the wall of fear keeping them apart. He was also flying blind, free falling if you will, and operating solely on instinct.

Drae told him to focus on her and to set his dominant impulses free. He was right.

Meghan was that rare human who could feel what others did. In a way, that empathic vibe doubled her burden in times of uncertainty. The dividing line between what she experienced and how he felt was murky. It wasn’t all that different for him.

But she relied on him to know when her mind needed to switch off. Or take a step back. He was going to quiet her fears and remind his sexy as fuck wife who she really was.

The stage was set, so he sat in the comfy, overstuffed chair they kept in their huge wardrobe room and waited.

The sweet, alluring scent of her favorite perfume tickled his nose. Alex let the fragrance fill his senses. Right away, his entire being went on high alert. Meghan was coming.

All of a sudden, he realized she was singing. Loud. A grin spread across his face. This was something they had in common. Music.

He sat to the side of the wardrobe, in a shadow, so she didn’t see him right away. The opportunity to enjoy his mega-talented wife while she performed in private was too delicious to deny.

Wrapped in a short white towel with her auburn curls unbound and free, she rocked out to a Huey Lewis song, the “Power of Love,” complete with dance moves and theatrical lead singer poses.

When she burst into the main room and saw him, she froze on the spot and clutched the towel covering her voluptuous curves.

“Oh, my god, Alex! You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry. I was enjoying the show.”

She blushed on cue and tried to hide her smile.

“Um, I need to get dressed.”

He forced his expression to stay neutral.

“Feel free,” he drawled. His fingers drummed the upholstery under his hand, and he took a leisurely posture with his feet crossed at the ankles.

His wife’s gaze went to his feet. She lingered there, studying his crappy, old western-style boots. Eventually, she lifted her eyes and scrutinized his jeans. He knew damn well why she liked this pair. They were black and worn in just right. The denim molded his thighs and made his backside view … interesting. Same for the front view.

Because he wanted to give her the whole rugged cowboy package, he went with a starched white shirt sporting black tortoise shell buttons and added a leather belt with a custom-made buckle.

He could tell by her face and body language what she was thinking.

First, he imagined she worked up a raunchy fantasy of him slam fucking her wearing the old boots. Only the old boots.

And second, was a very definite double lip bite around the matter of his belt.

His wife was developing a liking for leather. She didn’t know it yet, but he’d added to their equipment and toy collection. In particular, a set of hand tooled leather wrist and ankle cuffs with soft fabric on the insides. He was very much looking forward to the fun they could have in the barn with his new equipment.

She bought some time by slowly digging through her lingerie. He watched and waited until she laid a pale pink thong and a white bra on the bench seat.

He sensed her reluctance for what was coming and took the matter out of her hands with a direct command.

“Throw me the towel and I’ll dump it in the hamper.”

There was hesitation and sighing until finally she tugged on the top of the towel, separated the sides, and whipped it off her body before quickly tossing it.

He caught the damp towel with one hand and put it in the hamper a few feet from his chair.

Looking at his wife’s naked body for the first time in six weeks was an exercise in pure joy. She was magnificent.

He looked at her long and hard. She hadn’t changed at all. Maybe a little fuller here and there, and her breasts wore the evidence of nursing the twins, but the horror she imagined mystified him.

Finding out what he needed to know, Alex rose from the chair and went to his trembling, adorably bashful wife. He stepped behind her, swept her hair away from one shoulder, and then kissed the skin revealed.

He didn’t say anything – all he did was feather his fingers down an arm and kiss her shoulder. Then he walked away to leave her to it. There wasn’t any need to push her too far. Not yet.

In the bedroom, he glanced around and chuckle smirked. Allowing him to see her naked once more was nothing compared to the scene he was planning. And rather than keep it a surprise, he wanted her to anticipate what was coming – all night – so he chose his props carefully and would make sure she saw all of them.

Pushing the French doors to the private patio open, he breathed in the summer evening air. He loved Arizona. Loved the blistering daytime heat and warm, pleasant nights.

Gazing through the nighttime at the land of his people, he thought about the improbability of a fair-skinned Irish bombshell showing up on his doorstep, falling madly in love, and the two of them would stake their family’s future far from the world she’d known.

Meghan loved the desert and sunny skies even if the latter wasn’t her friend.

In the mud room was a very cool repurposed window frame with two rows of mismatched old metal coat hooks. It was one of Drae’s first projects when he moved to Bendover. Until Meghan came along, the only thing he had worth hanging was a couple of baseball caps. But now? Ha! Now the thing wasn’t big enough for his woman’s ever-expanding collection of hats and parasols.

Not umbrellas – although there were a few of those too – parasols. He’d learned the distinction early on in their relationship.

He’d asked Drae if he could make a second similar rack because judging by the array of baby beanies and hats his wife was acquiring, the kids were going to be hat aware and probably dipped in sunscreen at regular intervals.

He liked drifting off in thought. Quiet contemplation was a comfortable refuge that he’d learned to appreciate during the early days after he’d come home to Arizona. In need of physical healing, he hadn’t cherished at the time how important this place was to his spirit. The red dirt was emblematic of his rebirth after the fucking war nearly swallowed him whole.

The symbolism of his life force joined with Meghan’s to make babies who would carry on his name – right here in the red dirt of his beloved Arizona –filled him with awe.

And you know what else filled him with awe? His goddamn fucking beautiful wife. She’d snuck up on him while he daydreamed.

He turned and leaned against the patio railing and felt the breath knocked out of his chest. Holy fucking cannoli.

She twirled around and laughed. “I hope that reaction means you’re pleased.”

Pleased? Good lord. He was pleased, turned on, and ready to self-combust just by looking at her.

His transplant wife from Boston had an inner cowgirl that rocked his world.

Brown cowgirl boots, a white skirt with some kind of lace shit at the hem, a wide brown belt, and a pale blue denim camisole style shirt with silver buttons. He noticed the soft brown suede jacket and straw western hat with a turquoise band that she flung on a chair.

Her hair was down, and there was a sparkle in her eyes.

Whistling his appreciation, he grinned and said, “Baby, have I told you lately how sexy and beautiful you are?”

She pretended to look at a watch she wasn’t wearing and answered, “Yes, about an hour ago.”

How cool! She wanted to play. Let the fun times begin.

He rushed her with a playful growl and got her running while she squealed and tried to get away. Without much effort, he steered her in the right direction and watched for a reaction.

After quickly closing the French doors, he was three steps away from grabbing her when she stopped in her tracks. There on the bed were several hanks of black rope, a bottle of lube, and the Hitachi vibrator. The toy he’d denied her during the end of her pregnancy.

Crowding close, he breathed into her ear as his hand slide up her thigh and under her skirt to check for the thong.

“Who commands your orgasms, Meghan?”

She was already panting when she answered. “You do.”

He kept on breathing heavily while mapping her ass. His fingers followed the line of the worthless panties until he could slide his hand between her legs and massage her mound.

The second she moaned, he bit her neck and removed his hand. Then he stepped back and subjected her to a leisurely inspection.

She trembled under his scrutiny. He smiled and gently cupped the side of her face.

“Leave everything to me.”

That was all he said. She bit her lip and nodded. He took her hand, then fed it through the crook of his arm.

Looking into her upturned face, he was reminded that tonight wasn’t just about breaking her down. And it wasn’t about his birthday even though that was the excuse for the party atmosphere.

His wife wasn’t the only one struggling. The twins challenged his need for control in ways that surprised him. He was losing perspective and entertaining irrational thoughts about everyone’s safety.

They both needed this time-out.

“Thanks.” He chuckled.

“For what?” she asked

Alex answered honestly. “For being a fucking mess and forcing me into the present.”

She hugged his arm and kissed him on the shoulder, saying, “We aren’t leaving our children in the back seat of a hot car so we can go get drunk. They’ll be safe and sound here with a legit nanny crew seeing to their every need.”

He wanted to get a laugh out of her one more time before they left the bedroom. He made a face and announced that he planned to explain the drumstick welt on his face by saying she’d smacked him for being a dumbass.

With a yelp of silliness, she said, “A lie that no one will believe.”

He paraded his Irish treasure from their room and finally down the big formal stairway. His mother waited at the foot of the stairs. She pulled out her phone and took their picture.

“You make a lovely couple,” she told them. “And you made two beautiful babies. Now go out and have a nice time.” She handed Meghan a bag and said, “Pump or regret.”

He mentally scratched his head with that comment. Nursing was one of those things that went right over a guy’s head.