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The sounds of a scuffle ensued, complete with colorful curses. “Yeah, where are you? And wherever it is, can you bring back food?” Matt chimed in, coaxing forth a laugh.
“You have a car. Go get your own takeout. What do I look like, your maid?”
“How about French maid? I can see you in one of those little black-and-white outfits. With one of those lacy things on your hair and a really short skirt --”
“Her skirts are already plenty short,” Tristan put in after yet another scuffle. “We thought you’d be around for dinner.”
“I headed out to my mom’s. Didn’t Matt tell you?”
“You know how he is. Half-witted.”
“If he didn’t spend all his time playing video games, he might eventually make it to a full three quarters,” she replied, knowing Matt would have some smart comment.
“Watch the insults,” Matt interjected. “Or else I’m going to torch all your clothes and fill up your closet with slut gear.”
She grinned and tried to ignore the typical flutter in her stomach at that word. Slut. If she knew anything, it was that Matt and Tris would never hurt her—with names or otherwise. “You again. Don’t you have anything to do but spy on personal phone calls?”
“Dickweed put you on speakerphone.”
“I feel the love.” She laughed. “Try not to go at each other too badly before I get home, ’kay?”
“We’ll try to control ourselves.” Tristan’s dry tone made her laugh again. “So how’s the fam?”
“They’re fine.” She wet her dry lips. “Um, I got some of Abe’s stuff done. Well, I started thinking about it anyway.”
“Thinking’s a definite plus. So you’re leaving us on our own tonight?”
She glanced out the windshield as icy flakes started to drift down from the dark gray sky. Nightfall came so early this time of year, and she really wasn’t a fan of driving around in snow. But she needed just a little more time.
“Not the whole night. I’ll be around in a while. Probably by ten.” Her growling stomach provided a handy excuse. “I’m going to go grab some food, but then I’d like to talk to you. If you have time.”
“I always have time for you. Have some right now, actually.”
“Oh sure, food. Right.” Matt let out a pitiful moan. “Leave us here to starve.”
She ignored Matt. “Nah, later’s good. Anytime this weekend works. It’s not urgent.”
Her hymen might say otherwise, but she’d chosen not to heed its silent screams. Since she’d waited this long, she could wait another few hours or even a day or two to have the big talk with her boys.
“Whatever works for you. I’m ready, willing, and able.”
Just like that, her mind zoomed into the gutter. She had no doubt at all how able Tristan was. Or little, anyway, since she couldn’t know for sure until she’d gotten him naked. But if imagination counted, she’d already slept with him a dozen times. Probably more.
“Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit. You boys be good.”
“Always. See ya.”
“Bad’s better,” Matt said just before she clicked off with a smile.
They were insane, both of them. Matt more so, but Tristan had his own streak of crazy. And she loved them so damn much.
After she’d roamed around the mall and run out of ways to stall, she headed back to the loft. It was nearly nine when she walked into the big open communal office area—currently devoid of her partners—that served as the headquarters of Tristan Design.
Three big desks formed a spaced-out L, making it easy for her to toss balled-up paper at Matt across the aisle. That Tris got annoyed at the paper waste increased her enjoyment. He was militant about keeping office expenses down. Anything else, spending-wise, was fair game. His wardrobe in particular. The guy had
a suit for every damn day of the week. But when it came to equipment and supplies, he watched Cait and Matt like a hawk.
Not that they took him seriously. A couple of bats of her blue eyes and he was putty in her hands.
