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He winks and shoots a finger gun. “I’ll be there.”
When I finally pull up to my own house, with its towering willow in the front yard, I find my men working together to set up a tire swing. “Bit early for that, don’t you think?” I say.
“Well,” says Max, “we don’t want to be unprepared.”
“Besides,” says Braxton, “Max promised me the first ride.”
“He did call dibs,” Orson confirms. They break out in laughter.
I saunter towards the porch and they all turn their heads to watch. “Well, I’m just going to hop in the shower now.”
“You know, I think I could use one myself,” says Max, following after me.
“Hell, I’ve been working up a sweat myself,” Braxton says, hustling towards the door.
“Hey, nobody knows how to lather Asha’s hair better than I do,” says Orson.
Suddenly, with a shriek, I’m swept off my feet, and being carried in the arms of three gorgeous shifters, my mates, my lovers, up the stairs of our home, our sanctuary, our happily ever after.
