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“Do not kiss my wife,” ‘Vil says.

“I hope my kid’s a boy. I’m gonna start telling him to marry Irina from the time he’s about two years old.” Climbing stairs, I swipe my screen to unlock it. “Actually, forget that. Gay marriage is legal. Boy or girl is good.”

Ignoring ‘Vil’s curse-laced reaction, I look down at my screen and open her text.

Laurel:Where are you?

On my way.

* * *

Laurel

When he returns to the bedroom, Trick’s hands are full with two bottles of water, a can of Sprite, a silver flask, and some small items.

“Safe for precooked babies,” he says, shaking a Tylenol bottle that he sets on the nightstand next to me. “No ginger ale in the house, but it’s on the list now.” His sitting on the edge of the bed next to where I’m lying causes me to scoot back to give him room.

Leaning over his phone, he checks his texts and replies to some. “She’s not in town. Not at Casa Palermo either, which makes things easier.” His head tilts thoughtfully then straightens. “Maybe.”

“Who?”

“Monet.”

Propping myself up on an elbow, I study his handsome profile. “You’re asking about her? Has anyone seen her?”

“So far no, but when I know where she isn’t, it makes it easier to figure out where she is.” He rolls his eyes at his phone’s screen. “Got this new guy in C Crue who’s all eager. He sends me about twenty-five memes a day. Half of them are at least six months old. I’m not just getting back from living off-grid, dude, come on.”

“What does Anvil Stroviak say about the memes?”

He flashes a grin and then chuckles. “He sent ‘Vil one meme, and ‘Vil sent back a response that said, ‘Don’t text me.’ I told New Guy not to worry about it. Then I waited about a day before I started forwarding all the memes to Anvil.” He laughs again. “I’m trying to push ‘Vil into complaining to C, but no joy so far. Cuz Cloveswhen he has to be the intermediary.”

“Are you and Anvil friends? Some people say you hate each other, but he jumped in the pool to help you.”

Trick glances up, staring at the wall for a moment, then he shrugs. “‘Vil’s the serious middle brother. He and C do things a certain way, and I disrupt the culture. It’d be like here’s IBM and in comes a Google guy in a t-shirt and shorts who installs a basketball net in the main conference room and practices free throws while on conference calls. Not all the original suits are going to be down for that. But not too long ago ‘Vil had some things happen in his personal life and I put my basketball down while we dealt with that. We’re good.”

Setting a hand on his thigh, I squeeze.

He looks at me.

“May I ask a question?”

“Kind of late to ask for permission, isn’t it? You’ve been asking questions all night.”

“Can I ask a question that I think a fiancée would ask?”

The phone’s dropped behind him, and he gives me his full attention. “Go ahead.”

“Aren’t you exhausted, Scott? You’ve had a really long day.”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Trying to put me to bed again? No wonder you asked permission. That’s a risky move.”

My fingers curl around his.

He inhales deeply and exhales on a sigh, then hauls his t-shirt off, revealing that incredible torso that I never tire of looking at. Dropping his jeans, he says, “Slide over, babe. You’re on my side.”

“You have a side? I didn’t realize you let women sleep over.” There’s more than a hint of jealousy in my tone.

“I don’t.” He unplugs the lamp and sets it on the floor, along with the can and bottles. Then he hoists the nightstand up and walks it around to the other side of the bed. Replacing the lamp and other items, he returns to the left side of the bed. He drags a chair over and sets his phone and gun on it. “This room needs more than one night table. Another thing for the list.”