Page 135 of Protecting What's Mine
“It’s trick-or-treat. You have to be in costume. It’s the law,” he insisted.
“Please, Dr. Mack?” Mikey begged, clutching his hands at his chest. “Please?”
“Dammit.”
Five minutes later, Mack was shaking her head in front of the mirror. “I’m not wearing this in public.”
“You’re only saying that because you forgot the bracelets,” Linc said from his repose on her bed. He plucked the two plastic cuffs off the bedspread.
“The skirt is completely inappropriate.”
“I’m wearing tights. We’ll go as Mr. and Dr. Inappropriate,” he insisted, sliding the bracelets into place. “Besides, you’ve got a cape to keep everything covered until later.”
“What happens later?” she asked, still eyeing her reflection.
“Superman and Wonder Woman get it on while still in costume,” he said, bouncing off her mattress. “In fact, I don’t know why we’re still standing here talking. Every minute we waste now is one minute longer before I get under Wonder Woman’s skirt.”
She crossed her wrists and held them in front of her. “Back off, evil Superman. If you start sporting wood in those tights, a kid is bound to lose an eye, and you’ll be banned from trick-or-treat forever.”
“Your argument is strong, but your skirt is short. I’m having trouble focusing on what’s more important.”
“Why is it so quiet downstairs?” she asked, adjusting the headband.
“Huh?” His eyes were glued to her legs.
“There are seven kids and a dog downstairs, but it sounds like a library.”
“Shit.” Linc ran from the room and jogged down the stairs. “Dammit, guys! This isn’t your house. You can’t just start warming up leftovers!”
“ICAN’T BELIEVEI’m doing this,” Mack hissed to Linc as the kids hauled ass up the walkway to a yellow bungalow decked out with dancing skeletons and hand-carved pumpkins.
“Trick or treat!” the kids yelled in unison when the door opened.
“Hey, Dr. Mack! Hi, Chief Linc,” a short ninja with plastic nunchucks called as he or she ran by with a bag of loot.
“That ninja knows my name,” Mack said.
“Dreamy, everyone knows your name. You’re the talk of the town. ‘Doctor saves patient in roadside open heart surgery,’” he said, quoting the local newspaper’s headline earlier that week.
“And now I’m dressed as Wonder Woman.”
“Relax. Have some candy,” he said, producing a mini candy bar from behind his back.
“Did this come from where I think it came from?”
“There’s a secret candy holder in my belt, not my well-formed ass.”
She unwrapped the candy and laughed as the kids sprinted back to them.
“Homemade caramel corn,” Samantha squealed.
Sunshine nosed at the bag of treats Joni Aucker had handed them at the last stop. Mack restrained herself from asking Linc if he felt strange running into the mother of the girl he’d once loved. Sure, they’d shared things, but most of their relationship centered around great sex and playful banter. It was best not to push too far.
“You really didn’t have to bring the wagon,” Mack said. “My ankle feels good. And there’s no way in hell I would ever willingly ride in that thing.”
“Oh, it’s not really for you,” Linc told her. “It’s either for all the candy the kids whine about being too tired to carry, a kid who hits his or her sugar limit and has a meltdown—my money is on Kinley this year—or little Miss Sunshine, who gets too sleepy to walk.”
Sunshine, hearing her name, pranced in place.
