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While she collects herself, I snatch my phone off the end table and tap the screen, muttering as I type, “How to get an opossum out of your house.”
“We’re really going to send a mommy and her newborn babies out in a snowstorm?”
I glance outside and see the snow pouring down.
“Presley.”
“Wade.”
I make a move toward the kitchen with Presley tucked under my arm. I’ll get the push broom and corral this little family out the door before Presley gets any hormone-fueled ideas.
“Wait!” Presley says, tapping me on the stomach. “I have an idea.”
“Presley,” I repeat. “They’re wild animals. They are adapted to this kind of weather.”
“The babies aren’t, though. Are they?”
I stop and gaze down at my wife’s searching eyes.
And all I can see is a mother wanting to do right by another mother. I can’t fault her for that.
“Alright. Tell me your idea.”
ChapterTwelve
Presley
Mamma opossum is snug in Wade’s suitcase with her babies on the enclosed porch.
Wade has propped open the porch door, so if these nocturnal creatures decide to leave, they can do so on their own terms. This way, they can come and go, and we don’t waste any heat from inside the cabin.
“Shirley and her babies,” I tap out on my social media caption under the photos.
“Shirley?” Wade asks skeptically as he watches me type.
“That’s her name. She told me,” I say.
“I think you’re so tired you’re punch drunk and need to go to bed,” Wade tells me.
I pocket my phone inside the pouch of my hoodie.
“I don’t know about that. I’m feeling antsy to do some last-minute shopping,” I say.
Wade slips his arms around me from behind and kisses my neck. His bare chest behind me is a solid wall of heat, and I’m more than ready to fall into him and forget about this entire stressful ordeal. “I hope that includes ordering me a new suitcase.”
I shrug. “You needed a new one anyway. That one has been missing a wheel for ages.”
His erection presses against my ass. He wants me to feel it; there is no mistaking it.
“Who needs wheels?” Wade murmurs, nudging the neck of my hoodie to the side and pressing licking kisses to my collarbone.
“Not my big strong husband who’d rather strain his shoulder and throw out his back than roll a suitcase through the airport—ow!” A playful slap makes my fattened ass jiggle, and I yelp with laughter.
Wade’s rough hands find their way under the hem of my hoodie and palm my rounded stomach. The distance from one thumb to the other spans the width of my growing belly. He’s warm against my cold bits, and I love it.
“I think this whole opossum thing was a plot to get me to agree to a new suitcase,” he says, his hands sliding up higher and higher until he’s cupping my breasts.
His touch feels delicious.
