Page 54 of Welker

“What,” Moira posited into the silence, cheekily. “You have a problem that I’m finally identifying myself as a woman?” She glanced around with a raised brow. “I’m sure all of you have wondered about my gender since the minute I joined the team.”

Sin was the first to laugh. “Never, Moira. You may have tried to hide it, but we all knew you were too smart to be a man.”

Everyone cracked up, with the men jeering amusedly, and Moira joined right in.

Welker’s heart swelled as she held her own. They both took seats at the large round table where Mason and Everlee, Mike and Joelle, Kyle and Rowan, Doug and Pixie, Talia and Fleet, and Cisco and Hilly already sat.

Satisfaction welled up in Welker’s chest. This is how things should have been with Moira from the get-go; their teammates including her. Drawing her out. It had been a shame that only a few people, like Sin, had been able to get past Moira’s manly clothing and diffident interactions, to see the engaging woman she hid, beneath.

Welker wondered only one thing. Why now? What had changed to set Moira’s true spirit free? Was it the team coming to her aid when the Sheriff’s Department had dropped the ball? Was it the effort everyone had put in to clean up her house? Was it the new, feminine clothing she’d been forced to wear since hers had been ruined? Or was it…?

Welker held out a fantasy that it had something to do with him, but he wouldn’t assume anything. Hopefully, he’d be able to find out later if he were part of the new Moira-equation.

He had a plan, and not surprisingly, it involved Moira’s very pretty, naturally pink lips. Ever since this morning, when the kiss which had seemed inevitable had been snatched away by the entrance of Callie and Sabira, Welk had wanted nothing more than to claim Moira’s mouth. Yeah, he’d managed to give her a quick brush at Margaret’s, but as Margaret had so aptly put it at the time, he had a lot more than that in him.

Now he just needed to see if Moira was onboard with exploring the depth of the desire that he imagined was percolating between them.

Small talk went on, with he and Moira telling everyone about Margaret. They all agreed that they’d adopt the older woman, making sure she had not only everything she needed, but a slew of new friends, as well.

Still, after the subject of Margaret had been exhausted, Welker grew distracted, looking around at his friends. How did they do it? They all had partners now, to whom they were clearly and crazily attracted, yet here they sat, chatting, as if the only thing on their minds wasn’t getting home to tear off their significant others’ clothes.

He knew these men and women. They all lived life to its fullest, and that lust for living—one-hundred percent—included sex.

He brought his mind back to the conversation, and even threw in a witty line every now and again, earning shy smiles from Moira, who… Nope. No way. He just remembered that she’d declared she was paying. Just because she was finally letting loose and having fun, she wasn’t going to get stuck with the bar bill.

During a lull in the conversation, Welker leaned over and spoke quietly to Moira. “I’m not letting you pay for drinks tonight,” he told her.

She quirked up one corner of her mouth. “Says who? You’re not the boss of me, Vestore. And don’t think I didn’t see the color leave your face when Cisco said the tab was on you. I know why you were worried.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond as she picked it up all on her own. “How many building-material-dollars would that have set you back?”

Damn. The woman was astute.

“Some,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. As Cisco said, it’s my turn.”

“Oh really?” She postured, letting him know she meant business. “How about this? Am I part of this group, now?”

Shit. Welker could see where she was going.

“Of course,” he grumbled.

“Right. And I’ve never paid before. So, I’d say it’s my turn.”

“But—”

Moira laid a finger across his lips, and Welker wanted nothing more than to suck it into his mouth. He settled for giving it a light kiss instead…which made Moira grin.

“No more arguments, Vestore,” she ordered. “Paying for this won’t hurt my wallet at all. And if…,” she took a deep breath, “you meant what you said about exploring things between us, I’ll tell you right now, I won’t have you going all, ‘Me, man. Me pay for everything,’ on my ass every time we go out.”

“Every time…” That boded well, but Welker was having a hard time getting past the “exploring” part of her rebuttal. All he could do was nod as his head filled with pictures of exactly what he wanted to explore. He pictured himself untying those provocative little strings that held up the bodice of her dress; lowering it to see what she wore beneath, then whisking it all away so he could suck on her?—

Dammit. Cock-stand. A hard, insistent one.

It was a good thing the table hid his lust, because there was no way he was getting his randy-pants-partner to subside any time soon.

“Okay,” Welker finally choked out, nearly forgetting that Moira had just issued an edict to which he hadn’t yet responded.

“Okay?” Moira repeated. She leaned in close enough that he could smell the lavender soap she’d used at Margaret’s, and spoke softly.

If he licked her throat, would anyone call him on it?

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