Page 99 of Welker

The smoky grill, manned by Mr. Sothard in a tall chef’s hat and a jaunty pink apron, was loaded with burgers and dogs which he expertly flipped, and the long, trestle tables held more varieties of salads and desserts than Moira had ever seen.

Her workmates kids ran around laughing and screaming, while several of the team chased them with squirt guns and nerf balls.

A slip and slide had been set up, and Moira didn’t know who was enjoying it more, Sin’s two young girls in brightly colored bathing suits, or Kyle and Cisco in board shorts, who seemed to be competing for some imaginary backyard Olympics award as their wives watched their antics with unbridled mirth.

Fleet, Talia Spires-Egger’s husband, was providing the music for the day, having brought what looked to be a good portion of his recording studio equipment along, but the tunes were excellent, and nobody was complaining as the volume edged up. Things could get as loud as they wanted, due to the Sothard’s home being remote from any neighbors who might complain.

Not that anybody would, because they were all in attendance.

“Great party,” Moira hummed to Welker. “I never would have imagined this, a few months ago.”

Welker’s arms around her, tightened. “It’s great, isn’t it,” he answered contentedly. “And it’s all for you. We knew you’d come around, eventually,” he chided with a grin. “But just to let you know,” he tickled her midsection teasingly, “if you hadn’t smartened up on your own, I was determined to drag you, kicking and screaming, into my life.”

Moira smacked him gently on his tight stomach. “All you had to do was kiss me,” she told him. “I would have been a goner for sure.”

“Or you would have gutted me for taking liberties,” he snorted.

“Never,” she said with such conviction, he had to believe her.

Welker dropped a kiss to her lips and sighed happily.

“I’ll never get enough of this.”

He shifted underneath her.

Was he going somewhere?

“And speaking of enough,” he semi-pleaded, “have you digested your first hotdog yet? Because I’m ready for seconds.”

Moira laughed. “Uh, I think you mean fourths, but don’t let me stop you.”

Welker rose to his feet, and brought Moira with him, cradling her in his arms as he took a few steps toward the stairs leading down into the yard.

“You know you don’t have to carry me around anymore,” she scoffed, running one hand across his pecs.

“I know.” He stopped and kissed her again. “But I like it.”

“Mmm. Me, too,” Moira agreed.

Welker slowly let his hold go slack, easing her down his body, letting her feel all the hardness that she’d have a chance to explore, later.

Yup. There hadn’t been a single day since she’d been given the green light, health-wise, that they hadn’t burned up the sheets on Welker’s bed. And she didn’t foresee that fire being put out anytime soon. The minute they touched each other, flames ignited, and even when they’d worked through every bit of their kindling, some hot-ass glowing embers always remained banked, ready to start the next blaze.

They smirked at each other, knowing exactly what was in their respective heads, then walked down the steps, hand in hand, toward the grill.

Yeah. Moira grinned. She could use another burger to fortify her strength for later.

Cisco jogged toward them, waylaying them by insinuating himself directly into their path. “Hey Welk. Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get more food,” Welker told his friend.

“Oh, no you’re not,” he countered. “We just finished setting up the volleyball net Hilly brought from camp, and team SWAT needs you.”

“Well, then?—"

“Hey. Not me?” Moira asked snarkily, cutting Welk off.

“Are you kidding?” Cisco barked irreverently. “Not a chance. You are officially the enemy. You’re on team Sheriff.”

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