“Okay. I’m in,” Cash said, not letting the worry bog him down, and turned fully back in his seat to start the engine. The idea of children… He enjoyed Mae and Abi but what did he know about raising them? He put the car in reverse and stopped before driving off. “Parenting classes. When do those begin? Is it like a semester-long deal or year round? Do they offer a certification course?”
Dev chuckled at him. “I don’t even know what you’re talkin’ about, but I was hopin’ you’d figure it out. Millie’s fillin’ up my schedule. Tryin’ to appease these people who are pissed off, so I’m sure I’ll be doin’ a lot of art for free. Whether we’re ready or not, I start back to work next week. If we could do classes online, that’d probably be best. Tena needs to take the class too.”
Cash nodded and started out of the parking lot. His parents were going to be thrilled with this news. “Marriage?”
“Fuck yeah,” Dev said and grinned broadly. He pointed straight ahead. “First, we need to get to the parlor. Turn right.”
He did what he was told, clasping Dev’s hand.
Life had been good ten minutes ago, far better now. He’d be a father. His dad had a lot of teaching to do.
=♥=
“You know, Fox, I’m beginning to really regret taking this job,” Mitch Knox said, pushing a giant box into the foyer of the new ink parlor. “If you weren’t so goddamn cheap, you’d’ve paid the sixty extra dollars to have this chair assembled.”
Dev did his best to stifle the grin trying to ruin the shit-giving good time he and Mitch kept tossing out to one another. “You need someone to come help you move the box in? My youngest daughter’s available.”
“Fuck you. I’m the strongest motherfucker in this place. Bite me,” Mitch shot back. “If I can’t carry it, nobody can.”
The bark of laughter shot out before it could be contained. With a wrench in hand, he stood to his full height, leaving Millie hanging, holding a piece of the reception desk he was putting together. “I told you I’m taken. I ain’t gonna bite nothin’ you got. Should’ve hit me up a couple of months ago.”
Mitch made a show of rolling his eyes as he continued to push the box toward Trace’s new ink room. Cash was on a ladder, working to align the photos of Dev’s ink over the years, creating a wall of art for his clients to see. Cash grinned down at Dev and nodded. “All the right answers, babe.”
“What’s this?” Millie said, disgruntled. “A cock measuring contest. This is heavy, Devilman. Finish what you started. Stop worrying about everyone else.”
“Got told,” Mitch responded as Trace came out of his room.
“It didn’t come assembled? We have to put it together?” Trace asked and immediately jumped in to help his uncle move the heavy box.
“Fuck no, it’s not assembled,” Mitch said. “Would I be pushing it like this if it was?”
Trace didn’t respond but took part in the heavy lifting, moving the box. Probably because of all the hell Mitch had given his nephew about this new employment move.
“It’s not enough that I get you trained and on the street and then you quit me, but now I have to move you?” Mitch didn’t intend the words as an actual question. He’d said them about fifteen times already. “I’m never hiring family again. I would’ve paid for you to move in here.”
“Right,” Trace scoffed and cut a gaze toward Mitch. “You’re the cheapest guy on the planet. You aren’t paying for anyone to move.”
Mitch’s alarm went off, and he let the box go, reaching for his phone. Whatever came through garnered all his attention. He left the box for Trace to continue to navigate alone and went for the new plastic-covered sofa, all his focus on the cell phone in his hand.
“What’s he doin’?” Dev asked as Mitch took a seat, his thumbs working ferociously over the screen.
“If it’s four o’clock, he’s sexting his husband,” Trace answered as if that were the most normal, obvious thing to do at four o’clock in the afternoon. Dev had to play the words back over in his mind to make sure he heard them correctly.
“Dev,” Millie called out. “Finish. This is heavy.”
Right. He bent to tighten the final screws on the side of the desk, fascinated with what was happening on his sofa. Did they really sext every day? Was it just when Mitch was away?
Should he start sexting Cash?
He shifted his gaze to Cash. He didn’t see his guy as a sexter. He mashed his lips together and lowered his brows as he thought through the possibilities. Maybe he should try. How did sexting even work? Did he use words like rod or steel pole? Drive his steel rod through his fist…
“Don’t hurt yourself there by thinking too hard,” Millie teased and went for the next piece to finish the desk.
“What’s another way to say ‘suck me,’” Mitch asked, drawing everyone’s focus to him. He never looked up, but his thumbs lifted as he waited for an answer.
“Slob my knob,” Millie answered without missing a beat. He’d put her through quite a bit over the years they had worked together, maybe she had become desensitized to…well, everything.
“Swallow my rod?” Dev shot out, not even sure where it came from. “Fuck my mouth.”
