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“Iamrolling, literally, and by the way, where are my French fries?” Jazz whispered back.
As if on cue, Gray’s text signal went off in her purse. She leaped on the phone, dragging it up to see his response to her breast pic. That was even more interesting than seeking her missing fries.
Instead, she fumbled the phone onto the floor.Dammit. Before she could snatch it up again, she watched in growing horror as Mrs. Duffy swooped down and lifted it up to her nosy face.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Jazz chanted under her breath.
“Oh, it’s from Grayson.” Mrs. Duffy’s delight was obvious. “He says that you gave him just the wake up call he needed, so thanks.”
“Thank God,” Jazz said, offering Mrs. Duffy a smile when her mother-in-law gave her a puzzled look. “Um, I mean I’m so glad. Could I please have my phone back now? Please?”
Then her phone chimed again, and Jazz buried her chin in her chest. This so wasn’t going to be good. And forget getting the phone away from Gray’s mother. She had that thing in a death grip now.
“Another message from Grayson. He says your tits are—” Mrs. Duffy stopped and frowned, obviously rereading. She finally shoved the phone at Jazz. “You read it,” she said, practically snatching the cart out of Jazz’s hands.
Jazz waited until she’d rolled it away to sneak a glance at the text. And groaned. Loudly.
Your tits r perfection. I can’t wait to lick & suck them all night long. Maybe even decorate them.
Winky face.
Dear God. Her life as she knew it was officially over.
TWO
“Lemme see,”Harper said, taking her turn with the phone. Jazz let her. What did it matter at this point? She’d already been branded a sex pervert multiple times over.
“Oh my.” Harper’s eyebrows reached for her hairline. “At least Mrs. Duffy knows the passion is still alive,” she said, trying to smother a laugh behind her hand.
Jazz grabbed her phone and dumped it in her purse. “I sent him a boob shot to distract him from lecturing me about the fries I didn’t even get. So technically, this is all your fault.”
“Well, naturally. Isn’t that my role as the bestie? The cause of all the things.”
Jazz ignored Harper’s chuckles and shuffled up the aisle in the direction Mrs. Duffy had gone. On the way, she grabbed a set of adorable burp cloths, though she already had a ton at home. She might be embarrassed as hell, but she could still shop.
The day didn’t get any better from there. Somehow it even got worse.
Mrs. Duffy barely spoke to Jazz, instead questioning Harper about her pregnancy as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. She offered suggestions for clothing choices for Harper’s baby—because it’s so much fun to shop for little girls!—while almost entirely ignoring the sex maniac who just happened to be her daughter-in-law.
Unfortunately.
Harper shot her more than a few sympathetic looks, but in the end, she helped Mrs. Duffy forget about the tits and the painting and the sucking. Or at least Jazz hoped.
By the time they’d finished shopping in the enormous baby store, two hours had passed and Jazz’s cart was filled with stuff. About a third of it was hers, the rest Harper’s—and Mrs. Duffy’s, since she evidently wanted to help dress baby Alexa in spite of Harper’s protests that she and Deacon made plenty of money.
Gray’s mother had picked out one outfit for Dylan, a little blue sleeper, and Jazz loved it. She tried to not be bothered by the cold shoulder treatment, but she couldn’t help her natural instinct to people please. All she wanted to do was smooth over—
Smooth over what, exactly? That she and her husband were intimate? It wasn’t as if it was a bad thing. Couples were supposed to want to get naked together, especially just a month into their marriage.
“It’s not a crime,” she said under her breath, scowling down at her purchases as the checkout dude rang them out. “So what if I like sex?”
The guy’s hands faltered. “Um, excuse me, miss? What did you say?”
“Nothing. Sorry. I’m just being stupid.” She flashed the guy a distracted smile, barely noticing the one he gave her in return.
“These clothes,” he said, holding up an elephant onesie. “They’re for her?” He gestured to Harper, who’d already gone through the line. “She’s super pregnant.”
Harper frowned, clearly not appreciating that description. “I’m not super anything. I have a couple months left. And hello, you already checked me out.” She shook her head. “If you could stop checkingherout, maybe you’d remember.”
