Page 3 of Traps and Gretchen

“Brilliant,” Traps realized, hope surging through the knotty mess in his body. “Books are her sole obsession.”

“He says—”

“I heard him! Ask him if he knows how to make the dirty soup I be hearin’ so much about.”

Traps grinned at the term. “Gumbo?”

“Yes, that be it!”

“I’m the best at cooking it next to Mah-Mah and Bacon.”

“That can be our payment,” she offered.

Her voice sounded like her mouth was right next to Fetch’s as Traps laughed. “You have a deal.”

“I Fetch you want us to come at seven o’clock tonight?” she tested, further impressing him.

“Is she a mind reader?” Traps asked.

“She’s gained some of my ability to—”

Her snort cut him off. “I was Fetchin’ since I was a wee human, my luv.”

“Ah, yes, my all-knowing goddess. This is how you Fetched I was the perfect man for you.”

“It was. We need to meet him to Fetch as much as we can about his wee wife and how all he’s pissed her off so we can Fathom a proper Finishin’, yeah?”

“I can meet you anywhere,” Traps said.

“There you are!”

Gretchen’s voice brought his blood to a sudden boil then standstill in his veins. “I have to go.”

“Meet us at your dry dock,” Fetch said.

“In one hour,” he hurried, hanging up.

He braced as he turned to face his wife. But what in all the earth could equip him to battle the tiny miracle standing there. More beautiful, more delicious, moredeviouslysinful than he’d ever seen her. Ah yes. His brotherFetchcould.

“My wife,” he greeted while fisting this new hope. Usually, he only singed her with his gaze due to the many eye-traps on her body. At week eight, hisfatedwife waspackedwith them.

“Husband,” she greeted back.

The sweet lilt in her voice was one hundred percent taken for what it was. A warning. More like thereddestflag of all flags he’d ever gotten from her. She’d girded up her sexy loins foranother war with him. But he knew two very important things that changed the weave of the knotted fibers between them. One—shewantedto exasperate him to the point of giving up. And two—well, that sat in the darkness behind number one, waiting to be found.Whyshe wanted him to give up. He shared a similar passion with the puzzle triplets when it came to unravelling things. Did she not realize he couldn’t give up even if he wanted to? He was already so tangled up in her, to get free would require his bloody corpse. But this day, he would get to the bottom of why she didn’t share that same problem. A wisp of hopeful thread remained that she in fact did share it and was hiding it.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, drinking in the creamy skin pushing out the top of her fitted black blouse. Her usual neck-high garb was replaced with a low cut fitted one edged with lace. It brought a quake to his blood at what she intended by all of this. If he gave in, it would end with him burning alive then getting kicked into the abyss of fiery longing where he questioned every fiber of his existence and purpose.

“No,” she said simply, crossing her arms under her breasts. “Just wondering what you’re doing.”

“I was needing to talk to you about Fetch and his wife Rowan coming over for dinner tonight.” The surprise in her dark gaze felt like a triumph. “She needs to speak to you about getting books for all the sisters,” he hurried. “The kind that would help them with things relating to the marital bed. I told her you were an expert on thosebooks.” The frayed look in her eyes added to his first victory. “She asked for the dirty soup in exchange.”

Her brows drew together. “Dirty soup?”

“Gumbo.”

Her shot of genuine laughter erupted in his blood. That was new. And powerful. She’d never given a genuine anything to him before, he realized. He was surely fucked if she figured outwhat her real joy did for him and then weaponized it. “I can cook it,” she said.

Her eager cooperation was another red flag but there was also something else he detected. Somethingfalse.

---