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“Can I get you anything to drink?” Noemi asked.
“Water,” Easton said first.
“I’m fine with water too,” I agreed.
“Nope, now that you are here, we need to do our celebratory shots,” Samantha said, bringing a bottle and shot glasses our way. She started filling them up to the brim with Casamigos as Sadie and Juan joined us in the kitchen.
Noemi helped pass them out with a small lime for everyone.
“Alright, cheers!” Samantha started.
“Oh, fuck,” Noemi whispered, while everyone else smirked.
“Here’s to honor! If you can’t come in her, come on her,” Samantha giggled, while the other two sisters shook their heads.
Easton laughed while I grinned, loving the reaction from everyone.
“Babe, you need to get a new toast.” Sadie kissed Samantha on the cheek.
“A simple ‘cheers’ would have been fine,” Noemi complained.
We all clinked glasses before we took the shot. It was smooth going down and it was the perfect ice breaker for Thanksgiving dinner.
“All right, I just have to finish the mashed potatoes and gravy, and then we can eat,” Rosa said, shooing us out of her kitchen.
“Do you need any help?” Easton offered.
“Oh no, honey, go enjoy the game, relax,” she said, pushing him out of the kitchen. “Noemi is going to help me and give me all the juicy details.”
She smirked mischievously.
“Don’t look so worried, you know I don’t kiss and tell,” Noemi whispered.
“Don’t make me have to remind you of our contract,” I said, turning away from her sister. “I’ll make you recite it when we get home while you get your spankings.”
Her eyes darkened with arousal.
“Well, looks like I have some secrets to spill,” she said walking away slowly.
“Is it bad that I hope she does say something?” Easton groaned.
“I hope so too,” I said, imagining all the ways I could punish her when we got home.
26
EASTON
“Is your hair naturally that color or do you dye it?” One of the older kids asked me when we sat down for lunch.
“All natural.” I smiled at her.
“Mom, can I dye my hair like his?”
She leaned her head against my own, making me laugh. Kids had no boundaries.
“Would you stop pestering poor Easton,” Rosa said, pushing her daughter away from me. “You can’t dye your hair, you’re fucking ten, dude.”
I laughed at her swearing in front of her child and the fact that she called her dude. Noemi’s family wasn’t even remotely what I had expected. I had been to a college friend's Thanksgiving once, but all they did was watch football and drink beer.
