Page 101 of Brazen Deceits

“RJ and I stowed all your criminal crap, I’ll have you know, then inched across Wisconsin in a freaking snowstorm, so there wasn’t much time or energy forshenanigans.”

Trips snorts. “Shenanigans? Is that what we’re calling a good fuck now?”

I flip him off, slamming the bathroom door in his face. It is way too early for this shit. The sun isn’t even all the way up yet. I shouldn’t have to explain mylackof sex life to this dipshit.

I go through the motions, dragging on some fleece-lined leggings with my barely salvaged yellow sweater dress from Thanksgiving, opting for a lazy side braid. Then, feeling fancy, I pop on some mascara and lip gloss.

Sneaking back into my room to collect my socks, booties, and backpack, Walker’s eyes slit open. “Good morning, princess.”

I crawl across the mattress, locking him in a hug with me as the big spoon for once. “Good morning. Go back to sleep. Get some of that good stuff and share it with me later.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“Darn.” I plop a glossy kiss on his cheek. He twists, pressing another kiss to my lips before I slip out of the bed, snagging my phone on the way to the door.

I find Trips leaning against the wall in the hallway, my travel mug in one hand, a banana and granola bar in the other. I take them all, shoving the snacks into my bag. “How many minutes?” I ask.

He tilts his head, then laughs. “At least sixty. I got you up extra early this morning. I want to talk.”

“What? You jerk!”

He hands me my capelet from where it was lying across his arm. “I’ll buy you breakfast. Does that fix it?”

I glare. “Just this once. Don’t make a habit of this nonsense, Archibald.”

He shakes his head, snagging my arm and half dragging me out into the snow.

Because there is snow.

Everywhere.

“Oh my. Do you think the roads have been plowed?”

He stands next to me on the back porch, neither of us wanting to wade through what looks to be at least eight inches of snow. “Probably not all of them.”

“Do you think they will cancel class?”

We both dig for our phones, checking. “I don’t have anything yet,” I say.

“Me neither. And the snow is supposed to stop by noon.”

I sigh. “I should have remembered to bring back my snow boots over break.”

Trips squats down, his shoulder bag yanked to his front. “Hop on.”

I snort. “Piggyback?”

“You don’t have snow boots, and I’m going to guess the only other closed-toe shoes you have are your running shoes. So hop on.”

Snaking my arms out of my backpack, I hand him my bag as a counterbalance, my coffee staying exactly where it belongs. In my hand. “Okay, then. I’m curious where my grumpy asshole has gone, but I guess I’ll take this strange chivalrous knight in the interim.”

He huffs out a laugh right as I launch myself at his back. We stumble into the yard, his hands wrapped around my knees,my arms tight around his neck. Fat blobs of snow drift into my face, the city quiet around us.

Trips carries me to a silver Mercedes SUV instead of his pickup truck. Before I can ask, he pipes up. “I switched. We don’t need the pickup now that we finished building out the van.”

The door open, he backs up, dropping my ass on the soft leather seats. He hands me my bag, trudging to the driver’s side as I slam the door, blocking the snow from piling up inside. Trips kicks the car on, pulling his scraper from the backseat.

Theswish-swishof Trips wiping snow off the car combined with the hum of the heater and the quiet of the snow-covered morning melds together, leaving me with the feeling that I slipped through a barrier between realities, falling until I found refuge.

---