Just Her Luck (50 page)

“Don’t get upset, Genny,” he whispered, breath caressing my ear, “I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you over doing it or anything and hurtin’ yourself. I love you, baby.”

I softened at that, tilting my head up to give him a kiss.

His arms tightened around me when he deepened the kiss, the throb he’d started up between my legs aching in a now unpleasant way.

God, I’m so sore.

“Hey! This is my time, assholes,” Thatcher grumbled, glaring at Ephraim accusingly. “You all got to spend time with her and this is my time, so fuck off!”

Bowen rolled his eyes, making me laugh softly.

“Thatcher,
shut it
,” Bowen rumbled out, shoving his brother’s towel-clad-self back into the bathroom, holding the door closed by the knob.

Ignoring them all, I hobbled to my closet and picked something out quickly.

On my way back, I stepped in something wet and about jumped out of my skin.

“Oh, gross,” I muttered, picking up a used condom off the floor, tossing it towards my waste basket.

I froze and glanced over at the bed, then the nightstand where I keep my condoms, then to the door where Bowen held Thatcher captive.

Thatcher was banging relentlessly on the door, cursing and cussing up a blue streak.

He didn’t!

My eyes narrowed suspiciously and I walked over to my nightstand, vinyl shower curtain rustling and crinkling along with me, water dripping all over the soft, plushy carpet.

I growled when I saw my stash of pickle hats still intact, not a one missing, aside from the one I’d personally put on my blonde rogue myself.

He did!

That sneaky bastard!

“Keep him in there,” I barked, “he’s safer there anyways.
For the moment,
at least.”

Marching past everyone, trying not to outright stomp, I headed for the guest bathroom, ignoring Reeve’s curious stare as I walked right past him, crinkling and cracking, feet slapping wetly on the floor, and into the bathroom.

Shower curtain held tightly between my breasts, clothes clutched tightly in the same hand as well, I slammed the door shut behind me, locking it before I got in to finish my shower.

Just Gimpin’ It

“Are you going to be mad at me forever?”

Thatcher let out an odd, completely put out groan-
the terrible sound
bringing to mind a caterwauling tom cat
- then sighing heavily, plopped down next to me on the couch.

Or near my feet, I should say.

I’m kinda hogging precious couch space at the moment, enjoying playing hooky with my mad-cowlicked cowboy.

Ephraim smiled faintly, hands tracing my shoulders idly.

I’d finished my shower earlier, cursed myself for soaking my stitches, attempted to make breakfast, got booted out of the kitchen by Barb, and informed that I am not allowed to do anything for the rest of the day by all four parents.

Now, here I am, shunned to the living room, unable to go wallow around in my own room because Bowen is, as we speak, fixing the door.

I glanced away from the television for a second, giving Thatcher a dismissive look, snuggling deeper into Ephraim, then back to the movie we were watching.

If you consider making goo goo eyes at each other, sucking face and making fun of the two main characters ‘watching’, then yeah, we were watching a movie.

“Yes?” I asked uninterestedly.

My unrepentant blonde rogue put my feet in his lap and massaged them gently, careful of the blisters that had formed.

“I’m not sorry.” He tickled the bottom of my feet.

I jerked them out of his lap.

“Of course you’re not,” I snapped, fighting my hundredth yawn.

“You should go lie down, baby. You’re sleepin’ standin’ up.” Ephraim started to help me up, but I tugged him back down.

“I’m sitting down,” I protested, rubbing at my eye.

He chuckled and shook his head at me, pulling me back into his arms.

“I don’t know why you’re so mad at me,” Thatcher persisted, unaffected by my snippiness, “They did it too.”

I huffed, but didn’t protest when he put my feet back up into his lap.

We watched the movie some more, in relative silence, all jumbled up on the couch.

“I gotta get going, baby,” Ephraim sighed heavily, “I’d love to stay and spend time with you, you know that, but that mare Puddin’ is about to pop and I really should go check on her.

I laughed and tapped his ass as he got up.

“Puddin’,” I snickered. “You named a horse ‘Puddin’?”

“I didn’t,” he shook his head, “Reeve did.”

“You’re fibbing.” I eyed him, letting him know I totally thought he was pulling one over on me.

“No. I swear.”

I watched him carefully, checking for any signs of him bullshitting me.

He wasn’t.

“I’ll never understand your brother,” I told him.

He’d named it Puddin’, really?

“Join the club,” Thatcher joked.

“I really gotta go though.” Ephraim looked from me to the couch longingly, giving me a rueful smile.

“Yes,” I agreed, “Go check on your Puddin’ pop.”

He grinned, chuckling, then leaned down to give me a good bye kiss, pulling back reluctantly.

“I’ll come back and check on ya,” he wiggled his brows, knuckles brushing my cheek, “make sure you don’t get lonely.”

I grinned back, rolling my eyes.

“I’m never lonely around here.”

And it’s true
, I realized.
I feel at home when I’m here.

Wanted. Needed. Loved, even.

“Yeah, yeah,” Thatcher groaned, grimacing at our display. “You won’t be gone forever. Scoot, ‘E’, you’re blocking my view.”

Ephraim smacked Thatcher upside the head as he walked by, dodging him when Thatch went to smack him back.

He laughed triumphantly as he sauntered out of the house.

Thatcher looked back, making sure Ephraim was gone and then pounced, pinning me down, wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling my neck affectionately.

“Are you alright, my love? I didn’t mean to make you so sore.” He grimaced, chagrined, face bunching up.

“Oh,
now
you care?”

“You
know
I do.” His hands massaged my hips as his lips descended on my neck, nipping and nibbling playfully.

“Thatcher,” I gasped, gripping his wide shoulders.

I squeezed them hard until he came back to reality and pulled back.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled, not sounding sorry at all.

I laughed at the little boy look on his face when he pulled back, his emerald green eyes twinkling, thick lower lip jutting the tiniest bit out.

“There’s something wrong with me,” I sighed heavily, “I can never seem to stay mad at you guys.”

I thought about that for a moment, replaying everything over in my head.

Hmmm.

“You know what…?
Yes, I can!
”

I pinched him hard, gripping at the thick hunk of muscle under his arm, and he yelped out in pain.

“Jesus, Vieve! What was that…?”

“You did it on purpose, you lout!” I berated him, mouth a thin line, squaring off against him, “And you know
exactly
what I’m talking about!”

“Christ, is that all? You didn’t have to maim me, woman!” Rubbing his arm vigorously, he gave me a sullen pout.

“Is that all?
Is that all?
Did it ever occur to you to ask first? Do you do this kind of thing regularly? Just run around sticking it into any convenient hole? Making little deposits without protection,” I ranted as the thought occurred to me, horrified that he might have a million little daddy-less mini Thatchers running around out there.

“NO!” he bellowed, alarmed and insulted.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture suddenly reminding me of Reeve.

“I wouldn’t do that with just anyone! I did it with
you!
Only you!” he muttered, eyes narrowing, “What? You think I just go around giving out my swimmers for free?
To anyone?
I told you I was yours and you were mine. I didn’t think I’d need to defend my
honor
for committing myself to this relationship,
to us.”

His honor.

I held in a snort at that.

He’s a bit overly dramatic at times.

He huffed and puffed, grumbling and muttering under his breath.

Oh, brother. What a drama bear.

The affronted look on his face erased any doubts for me, though, sloughing them off.

He’s never struck me as the careless type, really, now that I think about it, recalling some of the earlier conversations we’ve had these past few weeks.

He wouldn’t just go fuck around, I don’t think, at least not without protection.

He seems too protective of himself.

Guarded.

Too careful.

I don’t think he’d give a gal a chance to get knocked up by him unless he meant for them too.

They all have that sense of right and wrong in that regard, I felt.

They’re all the type to do right by a woman and try to marry her if they got her pregnant.

Whether she wanted to or not.

Slightly mollified, but no less irritated at his back-handed tactics, my jets cooled marginally.

Still, though…
My mind spun, going at warp speed to try and make sense of his demented ramblings.

“How is having unprotected sex a commitment?” I argued, “And don’t try and act like you forgot, blondie, because I aint buyin’ it.”

“You can’t take it back,
or me,
so get over it, woman.”

My lips pursed and I ground my molars.

He eyed me warily, making sure I wasn’t going to pinch him again before he cuddled back up to me.

Making himself right at home, he snuggled right up to me, and I gaped at him, astounded
- though I really shouldn’t be-
by his audacity.

“Good,” he sighed, easing himself back down on me, taking advantage of my stunned stupor. “I like you soft and pliant.
Bending to my will.”

He laughed maniacally, an almost villainous cackle, as he put his face between both of my mounds and burrowed deep, grinning against my breasts when I squawked in shocked protest, coming to.

I slapped at him and tugged at his hair, getting a tongue lashing up the valley of said breasts for my perceived impertinence, his scruffy face tickling my skin.

“Thatcher!”

He pinned my elbows down, leaving only enough wiggle room for me to reach up and touch the sides of his hair.

“There’s no use fighting it, my love,” he laughed, giving me a gut tumbling grin, his smile downright wicked- decadent.

Bastard.

“Don’t think I didn’t forget the whole eggs and sperm crap you were spewing the other day. Was
that
the real reason you snuck into my room? To get a few juniors in me before anyone else could? I won’t be fodder for your competitive natures.”

“Is that what you really think of me?” He paused, heaving himself up to look down at me, dropping the playful act, completely serious this time, brows drawn down tight.

His eyes shadowed, green eyes clouding over, face going grim.

I opened my mouth to respond, thinking about it quickly, snapping my mouth shut with a snap before I said anything I couldn’t take back.

Would he?

Hmmmm…

Well, he
can
be an ass sometimes, but…

No
, I
know
he wouldn’t.

Despite all his teasing, taunting, and general silliness, I knew he wasn’t doing it to compete with his brothers.

Contrary to all his prattling on and general nonsensicalness, there’s a serious Thatcher in there, behind it all.

Behind the ass.

I saw glimpses of that side of him last night.

Beneath all that bologna is a sweet pea, dying to break out behind the ass-ish demanding side of him.

“Why, then?” I asked quietly, feeling a little vulnerable all of the sudden.

“Aw, my sweet.” His expression grew tender and he leaned down, kissing me softly, “I’m sorry. I just… I want to be with you. I wanted to be with you in every way imaginable. I wanted to feel you.
Be
with you. Is that so hard to believe?”

Yes.
But I didn’t voice it out loud.