Page 196 of Ransom

"Thank you so much for putting that image in my head. Really. Thank you. That's not going to give me fucking nightmares."

She laughs, dropping her forehead to my bicep. "You asked."

"Remind me to never do that again. I don't want to know what the fuck's going on in that head of yours."

"Are you sure?" Her voice turns dark, and I'm immediately hard as a fucking rock. "Because someone told me a little something about the spin cycle on the washing machine. I thought we could give it a try tonight after the kids go to sleep."

"The spin cycle? Who did you hear that from?" She doesn't answer me, just bites her lip, and my dick goes as limp as a fucking piece of string. "Dammit, baby, it was Nan or Connie, wasn't it? Fuck. You ruined it. You just killed him." I wave at my dick, and the damn woman just laughs. She's so cruel. And beautiful.

But also cruel.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. The idea was intriguing." I grumble about it, but her laughter makes it hard for me to keep it up. If she’s happy, so am I. That’s just the way it work.

"It is. As long as you don't consider the source."

We're interrupted by Maverick and Cadence, arriving home from the rescue. It took some time. Cadence wanted to do a lot of the work herself, but she transformed that farm. And that place has turned into way more than a dog rescue and training facility. It's now home to all kinds of animals, the barns filled with miniature horses, old draft horses, and a variety of other animals. And thankfully, she has no shortage of volunteers.

Maverick's stopped taking on extra cases in the city. He spends his free time helping at the rescue. Those stress lines are gone, replaced by a deep tan and laugh lines around his eyes.

He looks five years younger.

"I wonder if they're going to be having babies," Blair muses. "They'd be wonderful parents if they want that."

"Nan's been making noise about grandbabies. We'll see. If she wants them, she'll have all the support she needs."

"It helps that her rescue has unlimited funding. I know she wants to try and make it run on its own, but really, what else are you guys going to do with all that money?"

"I'm not the one that needs convincing. Maybe the two of you need a coffee date to discuss fiscal responsibility. Or in this case, irresponsibility."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," she says dryly. My wife puts on this act, like she doesn't want to interfere, and yet she does it all the time. She's the one that they all go to for relationship advice. I'm not sure why they've decided she's some love guru, but I'm not mad about it. I love that they all have individual relationships with her. More than once I've tried to pick her up for lunch, only to find her already snatched away by one of my brothers.

"I'm taking you away. We need a little one-on-one."

"To the penthouse?"

"Nope. Too close. I want you all to myself for a little while. Maybe a month."

She leans forward. "A month?"

"Yep. Picture it. You and I. A quiet little place on the ocean, or in the mountains, or in some stone cottage in the country. Nothing to do, no one interrupting."

She opens her mouth. Closes it. "When?" she asks, her eyes lighting up with interest.

"Whenever you want, baby. Just say the word and we'll go."

"Well..." She taps her finger against her lips. "Not August—that's when school starts back up. I don’t want to miss that."

"September then?"

"Cara and Declan's baby is due then. And then there's Halloween..."

"November?" I suggest, already knowing where this is heading.

"Thanksgiving without everyone? No way. And then Christmas..."

"No. We can't miss Christmas. Watching the kids open presents is the best thing about the holiday." No way am I going to miss that.

She bites at the corner of her lip. "There's a birthday or some other event happening every single month."