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Shit.
I shrugged. “I just felt like it.”
“You just felt like looking at houses?” he asked in incredulity. “The same woman who once said and I quote, Realtors must have the most boring fucking job just looking at houses all day.”
What the fuck?
Does he all of a sudden have the memory of an elephant?
No, he doesn’t. He’s a man, for fuck’s sake.
I mean, I could hardly get him to remember to put his dirty clothes in the laundry, but for some insane reason, his brain decided that this random piece of conversation from months and months ago would be a good thing to hold on to.
Fucking men, right?
At least we women are fair and cohesive in the way we remember shit.
We remember everything.
“I don’t remember saying that,” I lied. “And anyway, what are you, the fudging internet police? If I want to search houses, I’ll search houses. If I want to search pictures of the blue waffle and videos of golden showers, I’ll fucking do it.”
“Blue waffles?” he questioned, confused.
“Not plural, just the blue waffle,” I corrected. “Don’t Google it unless you want to be grossed the fluff out.”
“Noted,” he said with a look in his eyes that told me he’d be searching the blue waffle at some point in the next few hours. “So, you’re just looking at houses for fun?”
“Yep.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You’re lying. And I’m honestly a little disappointed in how poorly you’re doing it. Are you feeling okay, honey?”
I knew I needed to change my tactic and I needed to change it fast.
“Fine,” I said in a quiet voice. “I was looking at houses for us.”
“You want us to buy a house?”
“Yes,” I answered, because technically, I did want us to buy a house.
“Why do you want us to buy a house? I thought you loved the apartment and living in the city?”
“I thought maybe we could use the extra space since having Ace.”
“How many bedrooms do you think you’d want?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know…four, I guess?”
“What about bathrooms?”
Jesus. How many questions could one man ask?
I needed to distract him before I started to lose my mind. A woman could only come up with so many lies in a fifteen-minute period.
I shut my laptop and set it on the coffee table. And without wasting a second, I took off my tank top and bra, tossing them across the living room floor. I lay back on the couch and shimmied out of my shorts and panties before discarding them on the floor, too. All the while Thatch stared down at me with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Grabbing both breasts with my hands, I squeezed them together and pinched the nipples as I looked up at my husband and licked across my bottom lip.
“What are you doing, Crazy?”
“Playing.”
“Playing?” he asked on a near growl.
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “Want to join me?”
He didn’t even waste time with a response, hopping over the back of the couch and burying his face between my thighs.
Oh, hell yes…distractions are goooood…
“Okay, okay,” I called as soon as I walked into the room to a group of sex-deprived, crazy players. Apparently, my little talk at the beginning of the trip had scared them so much that they were afraid to look at women outside of the pageant proceedings either for fear those women would end up underage or affiliated in some way too. I appreciated their efforts, and if I was honest, found great enjoyment in it.
Nothing was better than making them suffer.
“I’m proud of you guys.”
The group groan started in the back and traveled forward until I was being booed by over forty men.
I laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, I suck, whatever.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow and sat up straighter in the front. “You’re being weird.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not. I’m being proud,” I said, and they groaned again. “You guys took something completely out of your wheelhouse and practically stamped with fucking disaster—”
“Hey!” Georgia shouted from the back, and the players laughed.
“And handled it in a way that will actually produce positive press. Probably something along the lines of ‘New York Mavericks Take Part in Miss Teen USA Pageant. No Serious Injuries Reported Despite a Close Call’.”
Raucous laughter echoed in the room as they all taunted and slapped the back of Littleton teasingly. He didn’t take it lying down, though. “Whatever. Go ahead, guys. Brag like little motherfuckers about being good in a beauty pageant. I’m sure that’ll keep your contracts signed.”
Quinn sat back in his chair and added his part as always. “That’s also a long-ass headline.”
I shook my head and looked down to Winnie, laughing from her spot in front.
My wife.
“Dr. Winslow,” I called, and she shook her head dismissively, knowing me well enough to know where this was going and hating it already.
“Come up here,” I went on, only to be backed up by a chant of the entire team. “Double U, Double U, Double U.”
She jumped up and stood beside me with a blush. Probably for no more reason than to quiet the near-deafening chant. “Wes—”
I knew she’d be nervous about telling the team, but there was no way in fuck I was going to work my entire career pretending she wasn’t my wife. She’d always be the team physician first in the facility and have my utmost respect, but I loved her, I’d married her, and I wanted everyone to know.
“I’m happy. I want all of them to know,” I explained, and within a second, her face was as soft as butter. She nodded her acceptance, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Want to let us in on your meeting?” Fletcher asked, and I just barely stopped myself from flipping him off. But that definitely wouldn’t be professional. So I’d do it the next time I saw Kline and Thatch, even if I didn’t have a reason. Sort of like an “IOFU.”
“We’ve got news,” I announced bluntly, and a hush fell over the group, rolling from front to back like a wave.
Some of their faces dropped as they looked on and took in the tone of my voice. It was serious. At least, as serious as I could manage when a one-thousand-watt smile was making a bid to escape.
“Last night, I asked Winnie to marry me.”
“Oh, shit,” someone yelled in the back. “I bet she said no.”
I shook my head, and Winnie talked over them. “There was no asking. You just put the ring on my finger.”
“Owee!” Quinn yelled, and I laughed at his charm. God, some woman was going to be in a whole hell of a lot of trouble with him.
“And we got married this morning,” I finished. For several long beats, I thought no one would say anything. But when they all got over looking at each other in shock, surprise, or for some, outright knowing, I could barely hear myself think, the crowd noise was so loud.
“Pooh’s married?” Sean Phillips yelled over the hum with a boatload of faux drama. “To you?”
Quinn jumped from his seat and ran to the front before slinging an arm around my shoulders and wrapping the other inappropriately around my waist. “He’s a catch!” he shouted to the delight of the now-rowdy crowd. “I’d thought we’d be together one day!” he went on.
I shoved him away and shook my head all at once as Winnie stepped under my arm to reclaim her territory.
“Hands off, Bailey.”
Quinn’s smile was contagious as he sank back into his seat and collected several backslaps from his closest teammates.
“Are you sure you can’t do better, Dr. Double U?” Mitchell asked with a smirk and a wink. “He never smiles. I, on the other hand, have a perfectly white set of teeth I don’t ever put away.”
“Fake teeth,” one of the other guys muttered. “He lost all of his real ones when we played Carolina.”
Mitchell reached back to smack at the accuser, and it wasn’t long before a slap fight broke out among the whole team. It was like a room full of way-oversized teenage girls.
“All right, all right,” I yelled. “Settle down.”
“‘All right, all right, all right,’ said Matthew McConaughey,” Sean Phillips mocked.
“Everybody shut up,” I said loudly, holding my smile inside until they complied.
“Marriage has already changed him,” Quinn stage-whispered as happiness took over my face at the feel of my wife’s body shaking in laughter against mine.
“Again, I’m proud of you guys. You managed to stay out of trouble this week.”
“We’re angels,” a guy in the back offered, and I nearly choked on my laugh.
“Right. Well, if you’re angels, prove it by being them tonight too. It’s our last night, and there are no sanctioned activities to keep you out of trouble.”
“We’ll be good,” Sean Phillips assured, but given who he was related to and the look on his face, it wasn’t reassuring at all.
“Right.” I shrugged. “If you’re not, you’ll be off the team.”
Faces melted their humor and settled on serious—a sign it was time to move on. I let loose the smile I was holding in again.
