Page 84 of A Little Naughty

“She needs to talk to us. How else will we know what’s going on with her?”

Jemima’s brow furrows, and she looks to the side. “I always talk to her on the way to school or at night when I’m scratching her back at bedtime. Although, I guess I haven’t done that in a few days.”

“After my mom died, nobody gave a shit what I thought. I don’t want her to feel that way.”

“You are so sweet.” Jemima slides her finger up and over my ear.

“I told you about that.”

She exhales a soft laugh. “Right. You’renotsweet, but you are making our little family better.”

A strange sense of pride swells in my chest, and I study this woman in my arms. My wife, who sees me as trying to make things better. Nobody has ever suggested the Jones boys made anything better until her. Hell if I know what I’m talking about, but I fucking want to prove her right.

Leaning forward, I cover her mouth with mine. A sigh of pleasure slips from her throat, and a surge of heat moves through my pelvis. Covering her body with my lips, it’s too late to call this temporary. She’s too precious to me, and I want to make her feel how much has changed. I want her to know I don’t plan to walk away when this is over, and I want her to feel the same.

* * *

“Porkchop knows his name!”I’m standing at the stove when Nikki runs in from the yard.

Her face is flushed, and she’s breathing fast. “He only poops behind the shed, and I think he’s getting better at not jerking on the leash!”

“My dad didn’t like dog crap in the yard.” God forbid he’d clean it up. “The dogs learned to hide to do their business.”

She doesn’t need to know why.

My brow lowers, as I think. Jemima said I’m improving the family, but maybe they’re improving me as well. I can’t remember the last time I saidcrapandbusinessinstead of plain oleshit. I sound like some kind of fucking librarian.

“That means he’s smart!” She’s so determined to make Porkchop a hero, I don’t want to burst her bubble.

“Wash your hands. I can’t vouch for how clean he is.”

Jemima breezes in the door. “Not too late, I hope?” She skips over to kiss my cheek, and I catch her face, pulling her to me for a quick tongue kiss.

I like the way it makes her sort of melt every time I do it. I guess I’ll know we’re in trouble if that ever changes.

When I turn to the stove again, she stands behind me, digging her thumbs into the tight muscles of my shoulders. “This smells good.”

Lowering my arms, I exhale a groan. “That feels good.”

She exhales a soft laugh, looking over my shoulder. “Is it a Jones family recipe?”

“No.” I lean back to kiss her cheek before she skips off to our bedroom, and I catch Nikki watching us with a frown.

When our eyes meet, she looks down at her phone. “Why are some animals black and white?”

“Don’t know.” I take the pot of spaghetti off the stove and dump it into the colander in the sink, then I go back to the stove where the meat sauce is bubbling.

“Britt’s mother Gwen would say it’s remnants of a time when the world was only light and shadow.” Jemima spreads her hands and wiggles her fingers as she returns to the kitchen in black leggings and a pale blue sweater that falls off one shoulder. “She’s a mystic, you know.”

“I thought she was a psychic.” I take the spaghetti sauce off the fire and pour it into a bowl for the table.

“Psychic, mystic. Same diff.” Jemima shrugs, sitting down and putting her foot in her chair.

Her phone is out by her plate as well, and I watch as she pulls up her group chat. Nikki is still frowning at me, but I’m frowning now, too as I put the spaghetti in a bowl and carry it to the table.

“What’s wrong?” I sit at my place, meeting Nikki’s disapproving gaze.

“That’s not how Jemima does it.” Her lips poke out. “She puts the sauce on top of the noodles and stirs it all together.”

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