Page 47 of Smart@ss Cyborg

Becky blinks. “No? Can’t say that it’s come up.”

Stella’s eyes flick to me. “Watch him. I bet you’ll see that his first inclination is to select the most garishly bright fabric or wall samples or whatever. C’vest does. But somewhere along the way C’vest learned it isn’t within the normal parameters for humans to opt for colors like that so he’ll stop himself from wearing an electric pink shirt, for example. But if he weren’t trying to fit in with the population, that’s what he’d wear.”

C’vest looks down at his mate forbiddingly, as if he can’t believe she’s divulging his secrets.

I’m silently delighted. Although my brain isn’t silent. It has to be screaming my enjoyment from its hedonic hotspots. C’vest can surely see how much I enjoy learning about his foibles.

Stella glances up at her male and does a double take. She captures his face in her hands and brings him down for a contrite kiss. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” she whispers to him when she pulls away, her voice so quiet I don’t think Becky can hear.

But I can. I continue to spy with avarice.

Becky pinches me.

Startled, I send her an incredulous look.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop,” she informs me. “Come here.”

She pulls my face down much like Stella has just done with her male, and she kisses me until I don’t care that another Yonderin male is in the vicinity, let alone what causes him to feel abashed.

“Iiiiii think we’d better go…” Stella chuckles, scooting back her seat. “Nice meeting you two.”

I tense as her male stands, but he only attends to his wife’s chair, pulling it the rest of the way out for her.

I force myself to pull back from kissing Becky. Panting, I work to collect my breath.

She’s fighting to do the same, and heat rolls off her cheeks. “It really was nice meeting you both. But yes, I think we’d better head home.”

“Not yet,” I say as I rise to help her out of her chair.

Becky looks up at me in confusion. “Not yet? Why?”

“There is one more thing we must do before we leave town.”

Her nose wrinkles fetchingly. “Like what?”

“We need to make our marriage legal,” I remind her.

Staring up at me, her eyes color with emotion.

Stella, being moved away from us and our table by her mate—who has effortlessly paid for our meal and service, clearly familiar with the local tender—stops walking. In fact, she takes a step back in our direction. “Would you… would you like us to be witnesses?”

“N—” I start.

“Yes,” Becky says. She looks over at the other female, sending her a smile, before she looks back up at me. No doubt noting my jaw, the way I’ve clamped my teeth. She leans in. “Is that okay?” she whispers. “I like Stella. It would be nice to have her at… at our wedding.”

Swallowing, I stare into Becky’s eyes, and give her a low nod. “If it would bring you happiness, then yes.”

***

Tucked into my side, Becky walks out of the chapel as Mrs. William Frederick Cody.

C’vest and Stella trail after us, her mate ensuring we have our space, if I had to venture a guess—but then Stella pulls at her mate until they’re abreast of us. As a unit, we cross the street, moving for the bakery store where we parked our wagon.

“HAWWWWWWWWWW!” comes a loud bray from the street, making Becky jump.

But not from fear. “PACO!” she cries, clutching my arm and brightly grinning at our jackass, who is trotting alongside the boardwalk, dodging wagons.

“Haaawww REEEEE! Hawwww REEEE! Hawww REEEEEEE!” he replies back, as if he’s telling Becky about the events of his day apart from us.

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