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The table laughs, and I’m bowled over by the feeling of full.
Tonight’s full of everything I love, and even though it’s just another Sunday supper to everyone else, it feels special to me.
“Cheers to Maisie,” Milly says, and we clink glasses.
“I’d also like to give a shoutout to Annabel, her mama, and Mr. Larry Howard here, who’s snared not only our largest trout to date, but also a lovely lady friend who we hope will be visiting Blue Mountain more often.”
Lizzie and Larry lock eyes and shrug at the same time. Then they go in for a smooch. A juicy, lip-smacking smooch that earns some hollers and a hoot and a half-laugh, half-grimace from Annabel.
“As I like to say,” Samuel continues, hand on his chest, “lovers, let them love.”
“Ew,” Milly says.
“Ew your face,” he replies. “But seriously. Annabel, we love having you here, and we hope you’re enjoying your stay. You’re welcome back anytime.”
Annabel’s eyes glitter, and for a second, I’m worried she’s about to cry. Instead, she smiles and looks around the table.
“Thank you all for treating us to the most wonderful time imaginable. Mom and Larry’s kiss notwithstanding”—whistle this time, from Hank—“I can honestly say Mom, Maisie, and I have had a ball. You all built something incredible, and incredibly special, up here, and we’re just grateful to get to experience it. I haven’t had an easy time of it lately, and like he always does, Beau came through in a big way.” She swallows. Looks right at me. “I’m lucky to have people like you in my life.”
My voice is husky when I reply. “I’m about to be real cheesy, guys, so gird your loins. But we’re the lucky ones. Bel and Lizzie, thanks for staying with us. Oh!” I bounce the baby on my knee. “And thank you, too, Miss Maisie.”
Samuel clears his throat. “Now, about my chicken. Have I told y’all—”
“Yes,” everyone replies in tandem.
“If Bobby Flay knew how much you name-dropped him, he’d get a restraining order. It’s disturbing, how obsessed you are,” Rhett says.
“Hey.” Samuel sniffs. “You’d brag about it, too, if you impressed an Iron Chef with your meat on stage in front of thousands of people—”
“Lord help us.” Milly spears a hand through her hair. “Pass me the wine, please? Yes, Hank, the whole bottle.”
I smile.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Annabel’s still smiling, too.
We pass dessert—poached pears with pecan-bourbon ice cream—around the table.
We pass the baby around, too.
Maisie ends up asleep in my arms.
Everyone else ends up in the kitchen. They drink the last bottle of wine Samuel brought while they clean up from the meal, Hank and Rhett at the big sinks on either side of the range.
I can just glimpse them through the dining room’s doorway. It’s only me and Maisie left at the table. My arm—the one Maisie’s tucked into—fell asleep long ago. But I still don’t move a muscle.
Instead, I enjoy the feel of her snuggled up against me. I watch the way her little lips move every so often in a tiny pantomime of sucking on her paci, which disappeared to God knows where sometime before dessert.
Annabel quietly enters the room, glass of water in hand.
“She okay?” she whispers, standing beside me. “I can take her if you want.”
“Nah. We’re good. I was gonna put her down.” I look up at her. “Here, I mean. In the Pack ’n Play upstairs.”
Bel digs her teeth into her bottom lip. “Okay. Yeah.”
“You brought the rest of the stuff you needed from your house, right?”
“I did.” She tucks her hair behind her ear.
Why she’s being shy, I don’t know.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. This was great, Beau. Really, really great.”
I see a hint of sadness in her eyes.
Sadness I know. This is all so, so good.
But it’s gotta end, and that sucks.
“I’ll put the baby down,” I say, rising. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable? Grab one of my T-shirts. Top drawer in the closet.”
Annabel blinks, the hurt in her eyes consumed by a hot lick of arousal. “I hoped we’d be taking clothes off, not putting them on.”
“Even better.” I tip my chin in the direction of the kitchen. “Since you’re the smart one, figure out a way to kindly but firmly tell everyone to get the F out of here. You and me, we got some business to attend to.”
“Naked business.” Bel takes a long, slow sip of water. “My favorite kind.”
It’s 1:45 AM—I know because the baby woke up ten minutes ago; luckily, I was able to rock her back to sleep—and Bel is on top of me. Riding my dick like it’s her job.
The light beside the bed is on. I love watching her, especially when she’s lost in the moment. Like she is now.
The muscles in her thighs flex as she lifts her hips. Slams them back down. I curl my fingers into the slices of muscle that bisect the sides of her thighs. She’s strong here, and eager, and the lube is helping make her movements extra athletic.
