Goddammit! Brody couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard. Attempting to reel it in, he raised a bottle of cold beer to his mouth but started bawling with more laughter before he took a sip.

“No, I’m serious,” Drae insisted.

Cam shook his head and sneered but said nothing.

Wiping away a tear of laughter, Brody tried again to get his shit together but all he could think was, Why, oh, why wasn’t there video evidence of the scene Drae just laid out for them?

“So let me get this straight,” he began as soberly as a laugh-fest would allow. “He was banging away to Led Zeppelin and hit himself with a stick?”

Drae rubbed his jaw and grinned. “Nah, man, ya have to tell the story the right way. He was drumming fine – knows that damn song by heart. It was when he got all cocky and tried to show off that gave himself a drumstick beatdown. It was the twirl. You know what I mean? His ‘Hey, look at me I’m a rock drummer’ bullshit. Mid-twirl, he lost control of the stick; it whacked him super hard on the face and made him tumble off the drum stool onto his ass.”

Cam finally spoke up. “And what did you do?”

Drae and Cam fist bumped across the bottle-strewn table.

“Why, I fell down laughing, of course!”

Imagining Major Alexander Marquez getting his rock and roll swagger on, only to end up on his ass and with a drumstick welt to the face, tickled Brody’s funny bone.

“Gentlemen,” a loud voice boomed above the racket of the Saturday night crowd gathered at Pete’s. It was Finn and beside him stood a kid who looked like the ink wasn’t quite dry on his official ‘I’m 21’ paperwork.

“This is Mickey,” Finn announced. He pounded the young guy on the shoulder as he introduced him.

Brody chuckled. Finn was a smart motherfucker. A lot smarter than they gave him credit for when his parents dumped him in Arizona and told him to get his fucking act together. But that was a year ago, and a lot had changed in that time.

Finn handed Drae a small handheld device. “That’s a call button. Mickey’s job is Justice. Just press the button and it’ll signal the table attendant to check on you guys.”

“This is Whiskey Pete’s,” Cam drawled. “Right? Remote call buttons and calling the bar jockeys attendants is a far cry from peanut shells on the floor and cheap, warm beer.”

“We save the peanuts and dusty cases of Miller for special events,” Finn drawled.

Drae thought this comment was funny and gave a hearty laugh. It only took a moment for Cam’s smile to appear, and before too long, they were all laughing. Even Mickey.

“Okay, then ... that’s it for me. Time to switch gears,” Finn said. “Thunder awaits.”

Mickey tidied up the table and took their order. From the corner of the room, Brody caught a glimpse of Heather and the ladies in their usual huddle. He was relieved to see her looking relaxed.

He asked, “Why isn’t Calder here? Or Stephanie? Seems odd.”

Cam was quick to offer an explanation.

“It’s barely been five weeks, and Stephanie’s doctor hasn’t given the all clear yet.”

“It’s a challenge keeping up with the population explosion. Five newborns and another on the way,” Drae pointed out. “I wonder who’s next.”

Brody shifted uncomfortably and leaned forward on his forearms, spinning the beer bottle in his hands. He studied the wood tabletop and gave a shot at pushing down his feelings about this subject. He glanced at his ladylove across the room and sighed.

Discovering quite by accident that Heather wasn’t barren or unable to have kids had cranked open an emotion-vault that he kept locked. Finding his daughter and bringing her home had been the only thing that drove him for a long time. Falling in love was a wildcard – so was his daughter’s instant attachment to Heather.

Now, they were a family, and at long last, the past was just that – the past. All three of them had their issues, but they were moving forward together and had built a great life here.

That didn’t mean they were immune to troubles or problems. Finding out they had a shot at getting pregnant turned out to be both a blessing and a curse.

The blessing part was obvious. It was the cursed part that gave him pause because despite assuming they’d magically make a baby at the first possible opportunity, that wasn’t how things were going.

Every time Heather’s cycle rolled around, she went into a funk. She wasn’t a bitch or anything like that – it was much more subtle than acting out. There were long sighs, an unhappy cast in her eyes, and more recently, a sobbing shower cry that left her exhausted and weak.

He didn’t know what to do for her and was considering calling her mother to ask for advice.

And then there was Pops. He was hanging in there – almost like he was waiting. The thought made Brody doubly sad. His beloved grandfather, the final link to the parents who died far too young, was in his last days. The old man had seen him through the tough times and was overjoyed when Brody located Bella Mia and ecstatic that with Heather they were building a family.

Maybe it was selfish on his part, but he just wanted to tell him there was a baby on the way before time ran out.

* * *

Heather touched a dangling earring and took a shaky breath. She felt her man’s stare and rubbed her neck when goose bumps spread between her shoulders. Brody’s attention was never far from her. It was comforting and exciting to know she was so important to him.

Hanging at Whiskey Pete’s was part of the Family Justice social dynamic and followed a general pattern. After some arrival shtick and schmooze, the ladies ended up taking charge of a cul-de-sac balcony reached by two steps.

The men found it hilarious that this odd spot was the one they all liked. She’d asked Brody to explain, and he’d teased her about picking up Justice habits because the weird four-table balcony that wasn’t really a balcony was what would be battlefield termed as the high ground. The advantage of controlling the high ground is obvious, he’d told her.

And where would their men be while the women set up base camp on the balcony? Generally commanding the room and doing any goddamn thing they wanted. When they moved about, people parted for them like the Red Sea. It was funny, and speaking only for herself, Heather found their wolf pack dominance hot – as in sexy times hot.

Sometimes, they cleared the billiards room with little more than a look and created mayhem around the pool tables. Other times, they took the sweet spot at the long bar – the perfect viewing location where they could see everything. But wherever they were and whatever they did during a Pete’s gathering, one thing was always the same. The Justice men kept a close eye on their women.

Casually turning her head, she glanced at the men for a quick check and instantly smiled. Cameron, Draegyn, and Brody were having a good laugh. Alex was missing but she’d seen him earlier giving the guy at the soundboard a hard time. The Major was rocking a bad-boy vibe this evening, which might account for the color of Meghan’s cheeks.

Brody caught her eyes and winked. She smirked and deliberately bit her lip – a sign he’d interpret as her recognizing her master. Their silent unobtrusive communication was foreplay. They both knew how the night would end. Bella was sleeping over at Amy’s, and they’d have privacy to get as down and dirty as they wanted.

Laughter around their table drew Heather back to the conversation. Lacey was in the middle of another hilarious story involving Dylan, Cameron, and the word, goddammit. Her never-ending battle to clean up everyone’s language was dead funny and gave the sweet, tenderhearted young woman a modern-day suffragette air.

Remy was in the seat next to her. Heather scrutinized her. Whether because of Finn or the Justice Ladies refusal to take no for an answer, she was finally loosening up. Not a lot but every little bit was a step along the road to the whole shebang.

Speaking of Finn, he materialized from thin air and handed Meghan something he said was a call button that they were to use when they needed anything.

Heather’s eyes darted to Remy’s face. She found the quiet introvert eyeing up the sexy Irishman. Like everyone else in Bendover, Heather wondered about the unlikely couple. Were they doing it?

Brody broke a Bro Code and shared a knee slapping funny story about poor Finn and his firsthand knowledge of masturbation cream. She’d thought her man crazy and full of it until he acquired some of Finn’s preferred whack-off lotion and demonstrated its purpose.

Afterward, any thoughts she entertained about Remington and Finn between the sheets quickly evaporated. No man who was willing to go on record over a jerk off aid was having sex. Maybe with his hand but not with a woman.

Heather wasn’t all that surprised when Finn circled their table and ended up next to Remy. She tried to watch without obviously staring.

He touched her hair and stroked her back.

Hold on, she thought. Hmph. Was this the first time Remy let her hair loose?

She had to think about it long and hard for a minute. Most of the time, her hair was off her face and kind of nondescript – as if she didn’t want any attention paid to her extraordinary raven-hued mane.

When she was working, Remy wore a long, loose braid.

Tonight was different.

Heather sat back, crossed her legs, and gave off a relaxed vibe. Everyone else around the table was engaged in conversation, so she held her drink, took an occasional sip, and looked to be enjoying the atmosphere. While she studied Finn and Remy.

He was giving her shit about the virgin colada she was drinking. She gave him return shit by insisting she heard somewhere that you could tell who was consorting with the devil by checking out what they drank. If it was tequila, that was proof positive.

Finn laughed. The hand stroking Remy’s back slid under the waterfall mane of hair, and from the reaction, Heather was fairly sure he was staking a claim to her neck.

She understood the Alpha playbook. Most true alphas behaved in what Heather termed the call of the wild. Brody liked to bite her and sometimes leave marks. The act was a wild call coming from inside. That she got off on the fundamental power play encouraged his behavior. Definitely a win-win.

Some women didn’t know how to manage this type of man. She looked around the table. Everyone she met who was involved with Justice in any way had at least a brown belt in Alpha. Even Bella.

Observing Remy’s acceptance of the gesture gave Heather a brief glimpse of the sexual power play at work in their relationship. Somewhere inside her impervious outer shell, Remy was like the rest of them. A woman.

She heard Finn mention a song and saw Remy’s brief nod.

Tori produced a monster burp that sent their entire group into falling down hysterics. Even Remy had a case of the giggles. Finn mockingly asked how such a tiny woman could render such massive wind gusts and belches. His question only made them laugh harder. Meghan pounded the table and stomped her feet, squawking, “Stop! You’ll make me pee.”

Ah, new mother realities. For ten seconds, she was overcome with happiness for Red. Then Heather sobered. Would she ever get to experience the miracle of giving birth?

There were times when she was so down about her slowness to conceive that she felt like giving up. Blunt reality pointed out that her moments of melancholy happened when her period came on train schedule time, so of course, she’d feel let down.

But then came the reminder that with each cycle there was another chance to take the love she and Brody shared, smoosh it into a ball of light infused with their fervent hope and desire for a baby, and send that light out into the universe. She firmly believed that one day the universe would answer – when the time was right.

* * *

There were a bunch of things she could think of that ought never to happen. Meghan shifted on the bench seat and mentally ticked off a couple of definite no-nos.

Never wear tan leggings unless you want to endure awful jokes about curdled thighs and panty lines.

Don’t get caught without tissues in your purse. A lady never knows when the need to pee might involve perching on a truck bumper in the middle of nowhere. A couple of tissues can make the difference between ‘Ahh’ and ‘Yuck.’

But tonight’s no-no was a potential disaster in the making – wearing a white skirt while one’s panties were in someone’s pocket. In this case, the pocket belonged to her grinning, oversexed husband.

She wanted to work up a sweat and dance her butt off. It was Alex’s birthday celebration, after all, and the return of Desert Thunder to the stage. Unfortunately, common sense opted out of tonight the second she saw the wand vibrator and rope.

Dammit! And now she was thinking about what her beast was planning for later. Did it help that her insides melted with anticipation? No, because now she was worried about leaving a damp spot wherever she sat.

Sensing something in the air, she searched the darkened stage. Alex’s magnificent drums gleamed beneath a targeted spotlight. For shits and grins, he added the enormous Zildjian gong from the studio. It was the perfect rock and roll prop to showcase Thunder Cock.

There was movement in the shadows and then the first notes of Wagner’s famous “Ride of the Valkyries” boomed from the sound system. The absurd song meant that Thunder was taking the stage.

Barry stepped up to the lead microphone and totally owned a loud, mocking introduction for Pete’s official house band.

“They’re back from the grave to show you Bendover peckerwoods how it’s done. Ladies and gathered motherfuckers, please give a rousing hand to the one, the only, the legendary … Desert Thunder.”

The place went wild as the Valkyries boomed and her husband, her brother, her lawyer, and some other guy took the stage. The energy of the crowd was incredible, and she could tell by Alex’s smirky grin that he got off on the adulation.

Angie suddenly joined the ladies table. Meghan had to laugh when she saw her sister-in-law. They each had to handle the pre and post show needs of their respective bad boys. She didn’t need a cheat sheet to understand that she and Angie shared more than an in-law connection. If anyone else was going to appreciate the nuance and subtle shifts that were so much a part of a dominant and submissive relationship, it was Angie followed by, surprisingly enough, Heather.

When Parker strode into the lead spotlight, Angie covered her mouth and giggled because her husband shared her freshly mauled look. The randy couple disappeared five seconds after they arrived. Meghan couldn’t judge – not when shortly after saying their hellos, Alex had dragged her into the storage room to make a production of relieving her of her panties, while she sang “Happy Birthday” and tried not to hyperventilate.

Resuming their intimate life after the kids came was turning out to be her weak spot. Her normal ball-busting Irish bitch side must be asleep or something because she was, no joke, a confused, self-conscious shit show.

Giving Alex the reins was her only real choice even though she knew in her heart of hearts that he was as intimidated and unsure as she was.

But he was the Major, after all, and would, she hoped, rise to the occasion. Taking charge and being in control of shit was what he did.

Oh good lord, and then she remembered the Hitachi and the rope, and her core pulsed with long-suppressed need.

While she daydreamed, Parker got the crowd on its feet with thundering applause, and the next thing she knew, everything exploded.

Angie grabbed one of her hands and Lacey the other. It was time to dance!

Clamoring out of their balcony enclosure, they hurried onto the dance floor and commandeered the middle ground.

Thunder started with a bang by taking no prisoners and immediately proving their badassery with an astonishingly kickass and enthusiastic cover of Zeppelin’s “Rock and Roll.” Her beast was literally pounding the shit out of the drums.

The screaming, dancing, and fangirling began in earnest, and before too long, she was sweating her ass off, laughing, waving her hands in the air, and dancing the night away while Thunder Cock kept an eye on her antics. Alex’s indulgent grin let her know he was enjoying her good time.

Parker’s between song banter was strong. So were Finn’s snarky taunts and the comical guitar rivalry between the two. Alex grinned and shook his head as the two brought male relationship comedy to Thunder’s stage show.

After a couple of songs into the set, Parker growled into the microphone. “Where the fuck is my bass player?” He shielded his eyes from the spotlight and asked the crowd, “Can someone find him please?”

Alex snorted with laughter. Leaning to his microphone, he drawled, “Dude. He’s right there next to you.”

A blue spotlight illuminated Berger who was decked out in a Pee-wee Herman suit complete with bowtie. The guy looked ridiculous next to Finn, Parker, and Alex.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Parker chuckled.

Finn threw his head back and laughed.

Berger just stood there.

Parker threw up his hands, made a gesture of disgust, walked to the drum riser, and sat down.

The crowd went wild because that only meant one thing. It was Finn’s turn to play guitar god.

“Ordinarily, we don’t do requests,” Finn drawled into his mic. “But since this next song is more of a suggestion, we’re gonna give it a try. This one’s for the teachers out there, male and female.”

When her drummer husband grabbed the spotlight and pounded out a familiar beat, she screamed like a groupie gone berserk. Finn’s masterful guitar joined in, and a seriously awesome “Hot for Teacher” boomed through the sound system.

Heather screamed and pointed at the Justice table at the edge of the dance floor where Brody was cracking up at her behavior.

The other almost teacher in their midst, one Mrs. Lacey Cameron, got in on the spirited song, earning her an indulgent smile from Cam.

Finn stayed in the lead while Parker ignored him. It was funny shtick that played well with the adoring crowd.

The next song proved to be quite eye opening and started with Finn giving dramatic testimony.

“Men,” he boomed into the microphone as he gripped it with both hands. “Ya know that feeling ... the one when a woman steals your breath and stays in your head?”

Finn held his hands up to the hallelujah chorus coming from the hoots and hollers of the men present.

Heather gave Remy a funny look. When Meghan glanced at her, she found the woman mouth open and gawking at Finn.

“Well, I’m here to tell you how it goes.”

More hoots and even louder hollers.

Even in the din, you could have heard a pin drop when the ladies froze and stared when Finn gave a sexy growl into the microphone and asked, “Where’s my lady?”

Sophie had joined their dance floor crew and was pushing Remy to the front of the dancers. Meghan sensed reluctance but trusted her brother not to do too big a stupid and went to stand by her side for support.

Remy seemed more pleased than annoyed.

Hold up. Did that mean their relationship was finally making headway? Wow. If things really were moving along, she’d be the couple’s biggest fan. Finn had genuine feelings for Remy – of that she was certain. It was the lady whose feelings or lack thereof that had until this moment been the mystery.

Her brother wore his cockiest grin while demanding Remy take a bow. She responded by flipping him off. The crowd ate it up.

“Baby,” he drawled in a perfect Humphrey Bogart impersonation. “You wreck me.”

The Justice crew went bonkers as Finn led the group – minus a still sulking Parker – through the classic Tom Petty song. Halfway through, Parker rejoined and picked up the lead. Finn swung his guitar to hang down his back and took the microphone in both hands.

Remy left Meghan utterly speechless when she grabbed her arm enthusiastically and crooned, “You brother is seriously hot.”

Meghan laughed. “P.S.,” she said, “he looks like a dork in corduroy pants.”

They shared a laugh, and Meghan was convinced that Remington Bissett made her choice where Finn was concerned, right then and there. She drank it in and committed the scene to memory so she could share it with her mom. Maggie O’Brien was going to go batshit when she found out that these two were finally taking a step.

By the end of the short song, Finn and Parker were back to dueling guitars and Remy was wearing a shy smile. It was kind of cool for Finn to declare himself so publicly, and she was happy for the couple.

The drinks flowed and munchies came and got devoured as they mastered the dance floor throughout Thunder’s entire set. When a favorite golden oldie started, Meghan applauded with gusto.

She loved the beat and vibe of “Mississippi Queen” and had a couple of different versions in her iTunes library. What came as a surprise, though, was Heather’s shriek when the distinctive cowbell started. She turned to Meghan and shouted, “This is so totally happening at my wedding!”

Well, my word but that was a helluva reveal!

They boogied, bumped, and grinded to the last note, and then Parker slowed things down by asking the crowd to serenade Alex with “Happy Birthday.” Her beast wiped down with a towel and grinned as the place erupted in an off-key, off-tempo sing-along. Then he pulled his microphone into place and took the lead.

“Thank you, thank you.” He chortled to the crowd.

“Oh shit, hang on a second,” Parker interrupted. “I forgot something.”

“You have to say something now?” Alex drawled. “Really? You’re hogging the spotlight again.”

Meghan loved their stage banter. It was easy to imagine the two as rowdy kids.

Parker sneered and informed the crowd that to celebrate Alex’s birthday, the bar tab for the next ten minutes would be taken care of by the birthday boy. Shouts and cheers erupted followed by a minor stampede to the bar.

“What-fuckin’-ever, man,” Alex growled. “Anyway, as I was trying to say before being rudely interrupted, this oldie but goody is a shout out to my beautiful wife. It goes without saying, but I’m hooked on this feeling.”

The girls crowded around her with big smiles on their faces. Sophie hugged her. Angie kissed her cheek.

She loved her beast so damn much. So much, in fact, that she swayed and blew kisses to her hunky husband as he sang. The part where she wasn’t wearing any panties had to account for the devilish gleam in Alex’s eyes. That or the stage lights.

After the song wrapped up and she curtseyed to the applauding crowd, Meghan dashed toward the bar and Finn’s old office without an explanation. Sophie was hot on her heels with a look of concern in her eyes.

“Red, what’s going on?”

Laughing because that was all she had, Meghan said, “The levee just broke,” and covered both boobs with her hands. “Time to activate the pumps!”

Sophie’s mocking eye roll and amused chuckle paved the way for her response. “Hashtag nursing moms.”

Grabbing the breast pump bag she’d stashed behind the bar earlier, Meghan took Sophie’s hand and dragged her to the old office for some privacy.

It was good to have another first-time mom to talk to.

The pump was doing its thing when she suddenly spoke. “Mind if I ask a question?”

Sophie seemed surprised but quickly sat next to her on the crappy office sofa. “Sure, ask away.”

“You’re breast feeding, Teo, right?”

“Yep and he’s a little piggy!”

Meghan cleared her throat, and her eyes darted around the mostly empty room. She was unsure of how to start.

“Did you know that Stephanie’s milk dried up? She was devastated that nursing Wolf wasn’t in the cards.”

Her sister-in-law rubbed Meghan’s arm. “Yeah, tough break. Jace talks to her every day about the stable. They have a rapport, those two. If your husband ever gets his act together and hires Jace to be the Justice Director, she’s going to take over supervising the horses. Anyway, he told me she got super weepy about Wolf and Calder. He thinks she’s got a touch of postpartum.”

Her deep sigh of concern filled the air. “I agree,” she murmured.

Sophie was naturally observant – not too unlike her brother – and jumped on Meghan’s hesitation. “What’s really going on?”

All of a sudden, tears came gushing from her eyes and a sob shook her head to toe.

“I’m not making milk for two babies,” she miserably wailed. “Aiden isn’t getting enough as it is, and poor Stevie ends up with what’s left.”

“Oh god, Meghan, stop. Don’t cry, please. Everything is fine. The twins are growing like weeds, and you’ve given them an excellent start. Don’t beat yourself up because another Marquez boy is a glutton.”

“But I wanted to nurse for a couple of months.”

The belligerent whine was so unlike her. What the hell? Two minutes ago, she was entertaining dirty thoughts about Alex, yet here she was boo-hooing. The situation would be funny if it wasn’t so upsetting.

Sophie snickered. She gave excellent snicker.

“I’m sorry.” The smirking new mom chortled when Meghan gave her a dirty look. “It’s just that it’s funny seeing you all ferklempt. You’re the mother of motherfuckers! What’s that thing Finn says? Badass Boston ball-busting bitch. Red, snap out of it!” Sophie snapped her fingers for emphasis.

“Wow. I don’t know what just happened,” she mumbled with a self-conscious wince.

“Hey, no sweat.” Sophie playfully nudged.

“Motherhood opened the floodgates,” she ruefully admitted. “I wasn’t prepared to feel like a failure.”

“Oh, Jesus. Don’t let Alex hear you say that. He tells everyone who’ll listen how amazing and capable you are. According to him, you are an official Lady Madonna. Whipped out twins without breaking a sweat.”

It dawned on her that she and her sister-in-law were having a real moment.

“Sophia Marquez. I do believe I owe you one. Thanks for listening. I feel better.”

While she finished pumping and cleaning up, Sophie wandered around the abandoned office, making comments about what she discovered.

“Did Pete never throw anything away? Here’s a menu from the 90’s.”

Meghan glanced at the laminated sheet of cardstock and marveled at how completely things have changed.

“Finn was smart to drop a modular out back. This ratty, decrepit shit shack might have worked for old Pete, but my brother is working a different game. The changes he and Barry have made constantly surprise people. A modern office suite where he can do his wheeling and dealing without tripping over the past was a smart move.”

“Oh, look,” Sophie murmured. “Here’s a crappy snapshot of Pete and the boys from way back. Looks like right about the time Justice got off the ground.”

Meghan almost leaped across the room to wrangle the picture from Sophie’s grasp. “Let me see that.”

The print pictured four men. Pete looked the way Meghan remembered. Grizzled and grinning. Next to him was Draegyn St. John. In a suit. In the desert. Cam was in the picture too – fully bearded with long, shaggy hair and a scowl that made her eyes go wide.

But it was Alex she focused on.

He appeared gaunt. His arms were crossed in a defensive posture, and she assumed by his drift that he was favoring his injured side. She swallowed a lump of emotion. His expression was hard. Direct. Unwavering.

“That was a bad time,” Sophie said in a hushed voice. “What you see is an empty shell.” She put a hand on Meghan’s shoulder and squeezed. “Alexander didn’t truly return from the war until Thing 1 and Thing 2 showed up. Before they came, he was angry and in pain so much that the brother I knew was hard to find. At first, he holed up at the Villa and refused to leave. When Parker came to stay after Uncle Matt’s heart episode, he tried and tried, but Alex wasn’t receptive.”

“What do you think changed? Was it just a matter of having Cam and Drae here?”

Sophie grinned. “This is not my mental wackiness talking, okay?”

Meghan laughed. “Oh, boy. Can’t wait to hear what you have to say.”

Sophie gave her a wistful smile. “Nothing any of us did or said made a difference. It was Zeus. She was the one to bring Alex all the way back. He got her as a puppy, and I do mean puppy, and she drove him batshit with her exuberant demands. In the early days, Cam and Drae were always off on assignment, leaving my brother with no one to boss around and force to help. Carmen wouldn’t have it, so he had to buck up and get shit done by himself.”

She understood and smiled. Strong women who took no crap surrounded Alex. His mom, Wendy Sullivan. Carmen, of course. Even Betty was a veteran of the No Shit Taking Wars. Boop was a classic over-the-top-of-her-glasses sort who could stop an army in its tracks with a single withering look.

So it made perfect sense that Zeus had played a role. The most important role of all. She was indebted to the dog for seeing Alex through the darkest of his dark times.

“I’m keeping this picture.” She turned away for a second to keep Sophie from seeing the tears welling in her eyes.

“Meghan,” Sophie began in a soft voice. “My brother adores you. He wouldn’t want you to entertain a failure narrative. I bet you haven’t told him about this, right?”

She shook her head. Anxiety roiled in her gut.

“What you need,” Sophie announced, “is a different perspective. Try this one on for size.”

Sophie sounded so sure and positive that, deep inside, Meghan felt the first flutters of faint hope.

Smug amusement bubbled in her sister-in-law’s laugh and gleamed in her eyes. “Bet my big lug of a brother is having a boo-hoo meltdown because he doesn’t have any part in feeding the kids. Am I right?”

“Bingo.” Meghan chortled. “Alex needs to feel in command, but babies are notorious for not cooperating. They won’t stick to his schedule, and to make matters worse, he gets this helpless scowl at feeding time. Your brother does not like being assigned a seat on the sidelines.”

“See?” she cried. “There’s the silver lining, Red!”

“I get what you’re saying. Oh, my god! Why didn’t I think of this? When we switch the twins to formula all the time, not only will my boobs get a break, but he’ll also be able to help.”

She pulled Sophie into a mighty hug. “I don’t know where my head’s been. Thank you so much. You’re right. Aiden and Stevie had a great start. They’re healthy; I’m healthy. What more is there?”

“There you go, Red! Accentuate the positive. You get your boobs back, and Alex gets to be all daddy, all the time.”

They linked arms, laughed, and hurried back to the show. No more tears and no more second-guessing. Tonight was about her husband. It was his birthday bash, and he was doing something he loved.

As they left the old office, she could just about make out what Parker was saying. He was juicing the crowd, trying to squeeze every drop of rocking out energy they had as fuel for the band.

The crowd parted for them as they made their way back to the girls. When she got situated and checked out the band, Meghan choked on an instantaneous giggle when she saw that Finn and Alex were shirtless while Parker sported a sweat soaked t-shirt and Berger? Cool as a cucumber in his Pee-wee Herman suit.

A three-car collision of desire, need, and lust roared to life inside her. There wasn’t a nerve anywhere in her body that wasn’t pulsing. She devoured him with her eyes.

On a slight riser behind the band, Alex loomed over his phenomenal drum setup. The spotlight beams bouncing off the shiny metal accents sparkled brightly and reminded her of magical fairy lights.

His torso glistened with sweat. Meghan licked her lips and nearly dropped from lack of oxygen when she forgot to breathe. He wiped a towel across shoulders that appeared broader than usual, but it was his biceps that nearly sent her to the floor. They were big and pumped from the effort of playing a live show. She could see from the intensity of his expression that he was on an endorphin high.

Flashes of earlier popped in her head. Ceding control back to him – the way she preferred it. His pleasure at her request, and the way he set the stage for a moment just like this. Her beast was back and intent on staking his claim. She thought of the rope, lube, and vibrator, then she looked at him. From the first second of their initial meeting, Meghan had been transfixed by the man’s virility and the way he owned his masculinity. Tonight, he gave off an intoxicating air of complete command. She smiled, and a shudder of carnal delight moved through her body.

The thunderous sound of his drums boomed from the sound system in a distinctive and immediately recognizable beat. Her smile became bigger. She loved any song by Queen but “We Will Rock You” just shot to the top of her request list because holy mother of god, watching him pound the motherfuck from the drums while his spectacular arms gleamed with sweat was making her giddy.

Finn took the vocal lead and belted out the lyrics with gusto. The crowd sang along on the chorus, and he gave the audience some of his best cocky Freddie Mercury moves.

She couldn’t look away from Alex. He was magnificent. The rhythmic drumbeat thundered so loud she could feel the vibrations.

Parker moved in with a guitar solo that drew wild applause.

Finn postured.

Alex pounded.

She caught Angie looking at her with bright eyes and a knowing grin. Didn’t take much to figure out what she was thinking. All that testosterone and nuclear-fueled adrenaline? Yeah – they were both going to be the beneficiary of tonight’s performance.

Heat surged in her belly, and she became conspicuously aware of her lack of underwear. Her self-confidence got an enormous boost when she realized nothing had changed in that regard. Her nerd king still had the power to turn her on and inside out from across the room. For the first time in forever, she felt a little like her pre-pregnant self.

The song ended, and they made a melodic segue into a Desert Thunder standard. It was Parker’s homage to Angie. Meghan laughed aloud, and so did everyone else. Even Remy because all of Justice knew that “Coming of Age” was Desert Angel’s theme song.

Their group bounced and boogied, waved their hands in the air, and danced up a storm. She was wringing wet with perspiration and filled with desire as they reached the end. Thunder closed out with a reminder to the crowd about designated drivers and the evils of driving drunk before ripping through a masterful rendition of “Highway to Hell.”