Page 15 of Yours Truly

Breeding kink on steroids over here.

“I relate,” I say, nodding to my tired niece as I bite into a fresh strawberry. Dolly has a full spread of fruits, chips, cheeses, breads and nuts laid out, and suddenly I feel bad for having dragged my toes to come tonight.

“What do you mean?” Ev asks, smoothing her fingers through her hair as she takes a seat next to me.

“Ace needing a few minutes to calibrate,” I repeat, adding, “I need that when I get to work every day. A few minutes before I can fully process Trace Calhoun.”

She snorts as she reaches for a bowl of barbeque chips, taking a few at once. “How’s it going, by the way? I kept meaning to come take you to lunch and find out how you’re enjoying it but,” she motions to the playpen with an orange chip, “he’s kept me so busy lately.”

“It’s going good,” I reply, unsure of what’s socially acceptable to bitch about. Her husband owns the place and is my boss, after all.

“I don’t see her car at home until 11 sometimes,” Dolly says, dipping her own chip into guac.

“Barbecue and guac?” I question, my nose wrinkling at the abhorrent combination.

“Some combos are so obvious. Like hot dogs and ketchup. It’s the less obvious combos that really win for me.” She dunks another chip into guac. I’m not sure if she and Hudson are part of this metaphor, or if it’s me and Trace. But… Why would she put me “with” Trace? She wouldn’t. Because there’s no… “us.” Not like that. “This is one of them. And also, it could be a gross pregnancy craving,” she finishes.

“I’ll have to just trust you.” I dunk my tortilla chip into guac. “And the reason I’m home so late some days is because Trace drags his scraggly ass in hours late. And I force him to stay so that I can get the full eight hours.”

Ev arches her brow. “Force him?” Her lips quiver with a smirk.

Smiling, I tell her another reason why I really like her husband as a boss, and as a human. “I keep reminding him of the contract he signed with Ink Time when he took the job—” We pause and think back to the story of Deuce signing Trace.

He was drunk, it was a catastrophe and ended up with Deuce making many promises of good faith to the Bluebell Police Department.

“Well, we all know he can’t remember and the fact that he can’t is really his own fault,” I say, grinning, completely ignoring the tiniest bit of guilt in my stomach. I’m sort of tricking him, even though it’s true that he’s a moron and a half for not knowing basic information about his employment.

I guess when you’re loaded stuff like that doesn’t matter.

“Oh my,” Ev says, going for Dolly’s barbecue and guac combo. Her face scrunches as she says, around a mouthful, “Not for me.” She wipes her mouth with the white paper napkin, her brows pulling together as she eyes me. “What does Deuce say?”

My smile widens. “He… goes along with it.” I laugh as I recall Deuce this morning. Trace was late–only eight minutes but still, I’ve established myself as the thorn in his side and I like it there. I’m cozy.

I reminded him of his contract and Deuce said, and I quote, “You better listen to her.”

“Your husband is so cool,” I sigh, my heart rattling as Trace flashes through my mind.

He has beautiful hands.

A wedding band would look sexy as hell on his finger.

Wait, what the fuck? Metaphorically I shake my head, refocusing on what I should. His hands touching me, not what they’d look like with a ring on.

His hands… okay, his hands.

Fuck his hands are hot.

His fingers would feel so good inching up my thighs, swiping my panties aside.

“Hello?” Dolly makes me jump.

“Huh?”

“You just zoned out.” Dolly presses her finger into my chest, and I notice Ev is no longer across from me. “You better not have a crush on Deuce,” she warns.

“What?” I jump up, looking around for Ev.

“She’s checking on Ace.” She licks her lips. “You were fantasizing. I saw it in your beady pupils.”

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