I brushed my thumb across her lips. “Yeah, Wicked. I really like you.”
“Are you going to start writing me notes?”
I fought a grin. “If I feel like it.”
“What about the cheese dip? And tacos?”
“Andrew’s bringing them. Everybody’s coming over to our place.”
“As long as there’s food, I don’t care. Wait. Our place?”
“I’m sorry you can’t take any pain meds, and yes, our place. For now so I can take care of you, Wicked.”
“Oh.” She seemed to need a minute to let that digest, but quickly recovered. “I could take something for the pain, but I won’t.”
“Gummy’s lucky to have you for a mother.”
Her mouth tugged upward. “You realize it doesn’t matter if you butter me up now. I’ll forget about it later.”
I kissed her cheek. “I’ll have to remind you.”
“You’re rotten. I could use an orgasm.”
“As soon as you’re allowed, I’ll give you all the orgasms you want.”
“I take back what I said earlier.”
“What?”
“You’re not an ass.”
My kitchen had been taken over by Dixons. And I couldn’t have been happier about it.
Marlow was as comfortable as she could be on a barstool, munching on her own bowl of cheese dip. Trish and Baker were on either side of her. They talked, and Wicked mumbled answers around tortilla chips.
The rest of us were on the opposite side of the island, propped against the cabinets while we ate tacos. Blake was on the counter beside me inching closer to the edge. Marlow had a watchful eye on him, but I had it under control, shifting him back when he got too close.
Ella lay in her carrier next to Blake. The two seconds they’d been apart, she’d screamed. When she was beside him, she screamed some more. Now she kept reaching for him. Or maybe she wanted some of his taco.
“You’ve handled yourself well today.” Mrs. Quinn bumped her shoulder with mine.
“I haven’t decided who I’m more furious with. Holt or Marlow. For now, I’m just relieved they’re both okay.”
“I’m glad I’m not on the list of people you’re angry with.” She set down her taco and took a sip of water.
“For ambushing me the other night? If it weren’t for you and Mr. Dixon, she and I wouldn’t be speaking now.” I flicked my chin toward Wicked, who gave me a questioning look. I winked, and she made a face.
Mrs. Quinn touched my arm. “I’ve inserted myself into a lot of situations in this family that I’m not sure it’s my place to.” Her fingers dug into me. “Paths is my home. I thought it was enough until I became part of this.” She looked around the room. “I’m looking forward to being a new grandmother. Gummy’s grandma has a nice ring to it.”
My eyes stung. I dropped my taco and attacked her with a bear hug. She let out a surprised squeak.
“It’s perfect.” I couldn’t bring myself to let her go. “How about Patrick’s mom? Does that work for you?”
“Oh, Patrick. I’m . . . honored. Are you sure? What about your mother?” She touched my cheek, eyes shining. I hadn't seen Mrs. Quinn emotional very often. She'd always kept herself so controlled. But I had a feeling I was seeing the real and loving woman behind the strong façade.
“My mother hasn't spoken to me in twenty years, so she gave up the right to call me her son. She no longer exists. But if you don't want—”
“I always wanted a son.” She smiled and tilted her head.
“Now you’ve got three and a grandson.”
“Are you moving in on my girl, son?” Mr. Dixon winked at me.
“When are you and Mom going to lock this thing down?”
He looked to Holt for help.
“Tie the knot.” Holt took a swig of his beer.
Mr. Dixon’s cheeks turned crimson. “I, uh, well—” He scratched the back of his neck.
Mrs. Quinn stared at him. She wasn’t letting him off the hook. “Well, what?”
“You’d really have me?”
“You’re an old fool.” She turned back toward me. “Don’t follow his lead.”
“Noted.” I kissed the top of her head.
Trish frowned as she answered her phone. After a series of uh-hus and where are yous she hung up.
“Cricket has been arrested. She swears she didn’t do it.”
“What did they pick her up for?” I asked.
“Drug possession with the intent to deal.”
I looked at Marlow.
“Go.” She pointed her head toward the door.
“Let me take you upstairs.”
“That’s totally inappropriate.” The corner of her mouth twitched.
I rounded the island and wedged between her and Baker. “How about this?”
I pressed my lips to hers and eased my tongue inside the heat of her mouth. Something hit me in the back. Then the head. Side.
“That’s my sister,” Holt said in disgust as something else beaned me in the head.
“Mine too. Let’s go, Romeo.”
I peeled away from her. “Call me if—”
“Go away.”
“Love you too.” I kissed her forehead. We both froze. The L-bomb had slipped out. I didn’t want to take it back.
Marlow appeared to be a cross between horrified and petrified. The fallout from this would be fun. I kissed her head again.
“I’m going with you.” Trish slipped off her barstool.
“Me too,” Baker said.
“It’s better if you both stay here.”
“She needs us.” Trish grabbed her purse.
“Will you be here or at home?” Baker pointed at Holt.
“Here.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I murmured against Wicked’s hair.
“I won’t wait up.”
Chapter Fifty
Marlow
“Did you get her out?”
Patrick crawled into bed beside me. “Did I wake you?”
“Do I sound like I’ve been asleep?”
“What hurts?”
“What doesn’t hurt?” I’d tried my side, my back, my other side, my front. Pain, pain, pain.
“Are you going to try and do things you shouldn’t do anymore?”
“Am I the kind of person who learns her lessons?”
“Do you want me to teach you one?” His lips brushed my ear.
“Did you save her or not?”
“Why are you so testy?”
“Why are you talking to me in that voice, knowing damn well you can’t do a thing about my predicament?”
“What predicament is that?”
I let
