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Tildy peeked over her shoulder. “Oh, yeah. He does that. Not that I watch,” she amended.
“Damn,” Daisy whispered. “Impressive.”
“You’ve never seen him naked?”
Daisy shook her head. “Not even just his shirt.”
Tildy nudged her. “I’ll invite you over on Saturdays,” she whispered, even though there was no one around to hear.
“Does he always wear pants?” Daisy figured he must be hot as hell mowing in the noonday sun in a pair of jeans.
“Always,” Tildy replied.
“Have you ever seen his leg?” She turned to look at Tildy, who shook her head.
“No. Never. Not even Sarah has. When we go to the lake, he won’t come.”
“That sucks.”
“He doesn’t like to talk about it, either. At all. And he gets twitchy if you try to help him. When we first moved in, Hawk offered to mow both lawns.”
Daisy snorted. “Bet that went over well.”
“He ignored us for days. He hates being thought of as weak. It’s hard to know, though, exactly what will set him off.”
The sound of a bike engine rolling into the driveway had Tildy skittering away from the back door. “Don’t tell him I was looking!” Tildy hissed.
Daisy laughed and saluted her with a glass of wine. “My lips are sealed, woman.”
Tildy tugged nervously at her sleep shirt, and Daisy rolled her eyes. “Too late, now, Tildy. He’s going to notice.”
“He’s going to be mad.”
Daisy shrugged. “He’ll get over it.” “Or,” she said thoughtfully, “he can get one for you. Then you’re even.”
Hawk’s keys hit the lock and the door swung open. He stepped in and to his credit, only paused for a moment as he took in the two empty wine bottles and his half-naked wife. He glanced at the empty glass on the counter. “We’re playing ‘It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere’?”
Tildy giggled nervously. “Yes.”
“Are we having a sleepover, too?” he asked, looking at her shirt.
Tildy bit her lip. Hawk came further into the room and watched her carefully. Daisy was pretty certain that Hawk had eyes like his namesake and very little, if anything, ever got past him. “What’d you do?” he said casually.
“Um…”
Hawk looked at Daisy, but Daisy pressed her lips together, only re-opening them to take another huge gulp of wine.
“I’m making quesadillas!” Tildy chirped. “I have chips and salsa, too!” she told him. “Do you want some?” She turned and flitted toward the kitchen. “Wash up and I’ll-”
“Freeze.”
Tildy did as asked but turned back around to face him. Hawk’s eyes narrowed and he strode toward her. Daisy saw Tildy gulp, and one of her feet lifted off the floor. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
The other woman gasped as her man grabbed her around the waist, swung her around so she was facing away from him, and yanked up her sleep shirt over her hips. He looked down at the gauze taped to Tildy’s skin.
“Talk. Now.”
“It’s for you,” Tildy chattered.
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“Well, I wanted to!” she argued.
“What is it?” he demanded. “I can buy you flowers. Whole bouquets of them, every Date Night. You don’t-”
“It’s you!” Tildy protested.
“It’s what? You got my name tattooed above your ass like Abby? Babe, I know you belong to me. I don’t need to see proof of-”
“Even better!” Tildy insisted. “It’s a hawk.” She looked at Daisy, her eyes begging for help. Daisy slid the folded piece of artwork out of her pocket and handed it over.
The large man plucked it gently from her fingers and opened it. He studied it for a good, long while. “I don’t dislike it,” he declared.
Tildy squealed. “He likes it!”
“I didn’t say that,” he corrected. “But I think we need to discuss it before making decisions, permanent decisions, in areas of-”
“It’s my body!” Tildy countered.
Hawk looked down at her, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest. “Oh, so if I come home with a Prince Albert, you wouldn’t have an opinion on it?”
Tildy’s nose wrinkled. “What’s that?”
Hawk grinned. “It’s a stud that goes through the cock head and when we fuck-”
“Stop!” Tildy said, covering her ears, which were already turning purple.
Hawk obliged, but still smirked at her.
“I wanted it!” Tildy told him. “And it had to be now, because I won’t be able to later. Maybe not for a long time. So I did it! And that’s all there is to it!”
He cocked his head to the side. “Why now, exactly?” he asked her.
Tildy crossed her own arms and squared off against her old man. Daisy got the impression of a chihuahua going up against a mastiff. She suppressed a laugh and took another drink.
“I want a baby,” Tildy declared loudly.
“A baby.”
She nodded sharply. “Yes. Now. And you’re not supposed to get a tattoo if you’re pregnant. Which I want to be.”
“So you keep saying.”
Tildy gaped at him. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say to me?” She slapped his arm harmlessly. “I just said-”
