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“See what?” I’m genuinely baffled. “It’s not like they have thirty years difference, and besides, what does age have to do with anything?”
Candy makes a face. “Oh my God. You’re right.” Red is flushing her cheeks. “You’d think I’d be more open-minded when I’m in a relationship with two guys, right?”
“Hey.” Her eyes are glittering. “Come here. You’re a nice person, Sugar Pop.”
“Donna has every right to date whoever she wants and be happy.”
“Yes. And we were only chatting. Why are you so sad?” I draw her against me and sigh contently. Having her in my arms is the best feeling ever, and I’m not talking about the way she’s pressed to my hard-on.
Okay, not only.
“I’m not sad. And before you ask again, I’m not pregnant, okay?”
Back up. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”
I wasn’t gonna ask. Though the thought of Candy having my babies, Joel’s babies… is sweet. Sweeter than I thought possible. It makes me wanna grab her and sink into her until it happens.
Whoa, hold up. It’s way too soon for anything like that, and besides Candy has her plans with her studies and her career.
I know what it means, though. It means I want this girl for life. I want Candy, and Joel, for the long run, and I’m not scared.
Well, not as much as I thought I’d be, and that’s pretty damn crazy.
Candy pulls back. “Here they come.”
Donna and the guy walk by us, heading out. They’re not holding hands or anything, but the way they’re aware of each other as they reach the door and he holds it open for her is clear.
“Donna is a cougar,” I say.
“Jet!”
“Nothing against cougars or any other big cats, Sugar Babe,” I tell her and haul her back against me, other customers be damned. “You can maul me any time you like.”
Chapter Seven
Candy
“If our future children turn out to be obsessed with the history channel, I’ll blame you,” I tell J-One. “Just so you know.”
“Or with cooking,” J-Two says smugly. “Also your fault.”
“And if they turn out to be fucking awesome artists, then it’s on both of you,” J-One says, quietly, earnestly, and I shut up.
He sometimes says the most deliciously sweet things. For this one, he’s getting the blowjob of his life, I pinkie-swear.
(Candy’s Note: But what if our future children end up useless in the kitchen like me? Now I’m worried.)
From Candy Ever After (Unpublished epilogue to the serial Candy Boys)
“What’s going on?” The kitchen is a mess of dirty dishes and bowls and peel
ed veggies when I poke my head inside. “Hey, Joel? Are we expecting people for dinner? Why didn’t you…?”
He turns around, a long knife and an apple in his hands, and oh my God, he’s wearing a blue and white apron decorated with stars.
And not much else.
In his defense, it’s way too warm in the kitchen. Since when has he been in here, cooking?
