“Getting Liver and Greg ready.”
Amanda pinned her eyebrows together. “Stop calling your brother Liver.”
Her daughter huffed like only Hannah could. She was an expert at it. “That’s his name.”
“It is not. We picked out a perfectly good name.”
“Then you should’ve had a perfectly good son. He’s not. He needs to go back.”
Her five-year-old son was never going back up her vagina. No way. No givebacks.
After Oliver was born, she’d pretty much threatened Max with death if he even thought about having a third child. She even had him get snipped. And if he didn’t, she threatened to do it herself sometime during the night with a rusty butter knife.
Knowing his wife too well, he decided not to take that chance and made an appointment the next day.
Smart decision.
Two pregnancies were more than enough. The only good thing that came out of those were her two kids. Though, she was rethinking that right now as she frowned at Hannah, who stood with one hand on her hip.
She was ten going on sixteen. She took after her father.
Funny, he insisted Hannah was just like Amanda.
Well, at least they agreed she looked like Max with his dark brown hair and crystal blue eyes.
Amanda yawned. “What is he helping them with? Breakfast?”
“No, Mom! For Grandpa to pick us up.”
“What?”
“It’s an early Christmas present or something. That’s what Dad was telling Liver.”
“Hannah...”
Her daughter bugged her eyes out. She was an expert at that, too. She probably practiced the hand-on-hip, bugged-out-eyes routine in the mirror. “Oooooliver. There, you happy?”
Not really. “Whose Christmas present?”
Hannah shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“I don’t know,” she corrected her daughter.
“Apparently you don’t, if you’re asking me.”
“Hannah.” Amanda took a deep breath. Kids took a lot of patience. No one warned her of that before one of Max’s enthusiastic swimmers hooked up with one of her reluctant eggs. “Say I don’t know.”
“Okay. You don’t know.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. Her daughter did, too.
Oh lord, she was putting an ad in the local penny shopper and giving Hannah away. Cheap. Screw it, free.
Shit, she’d only find her way back home. The kid was pretty damn smart for ten. Plus, Max might not be happy that she gave away “Daddy’s girl” and he might arrest his own wife.
Hmm.
That reminded her, they hadn’t broken out the cuffs lately…
“Mom!”
“What?”
“Can I borrow your makeup?”
That was why her daughter interrupted her hot dream? “No. You’re ten. And the last time you borrowed it—without permission, might I add—you ended up looking like a drunk raccoon.”
Hannah snorted. “Well, if you’d teach me…”
“You’re ten,” Amanda reminded her for the millionth time. “Your father doesn’t want you wearing makeup and we’ll let him decide when you’re allowed. Plus, if you haven’t noticed, I’m not great at it.”
“Teddy can teach me, then.”
“Fine, go to Teddy. But not before your dad says it’s okay.”
“I’ll ask him.”
“Okay. Go do that now and stop asking me questions that you know I’m going to say no to before you even ask them.”
“Whatever, Mom.” She did her signature huff.
“Yeah, whatever,” she mimicked. “Now come here, give your mean mom a kiss and then go get ready to go to your grandparents. By the way, if Grandpa saw you with makeup on, he just might throw all your presents into the fireplace and then ground you for a month.”
“He can’t ground me.”
“No? He still grounds your father and uncles.”
Hannah giggled. “He does?”
“Yep. And since he outranks us all, he can ground anyone in the family.”
“Even Grandma?”
“I’m sure Grandma gets a different type of punishment.” She rolled her lips under, trying not to smirk.
“What kind?”
Oh shit. “Uh… that’s between them.”
“I’m going to ask him.”
Oh shit! “No, you won’t! That’s… That’s their business, not yours. Now, come give me a kiss since I won’t see you until later.”
“What’s later?”
“The Christmas parade. Daddy’s going to be up front right behind the mayor.”
“He is?”
“Hannah, honestly, don’t you pay attention to any of our conversations at dinner?”
“Yessss.”
Amanda sighed. “Now you’re fibbing.”
“No worse than you,” Hannah blurted out as she surged forward, gave Amanda a quick kiss on the cheek and bolted from the room.
Amanda stared at the empty doorway and smiled.
God, she loved that kid. She might have been worth all those hours of pain and torture—and the verbal abuse she gave Max—during her labor.
She should get up, take a shower and get ready for the day, but it was rare that the house was empty of not only the spawn from her loins, but her brother, Greg, too. She glanced at the clock. Another hour of uninterrupted sleep would be heaven.
She shimmied her way back under the covers and sighed as she stretched out, having the whole king-sized bed to herself. Then closed her eyes and went searching for that dream…
* * *
“You know what happens to bad girls who don’t stay out of trouble?”
Max’s wife stirred and a naughty smile crept over her face. “Mmm. Her husband— Wait, I’m not falling for that again.” Her eyes popped open and she shot up in bed, smacking her head against his chin.
“Fuck!” they both shouted at the same time.
“Ow,” Amanda moaned, rubbing the top of her head.
“Hey, your head is harder than my chin,” he complained, rubbing his throbbing chin.
His wife not only had a hard head, she was a hardhead.
Her eyes raked down his naked body as he kneeled on the mattress next to her. The surprise in them quickly turned to heat.
That was more like it.
“Well, hello, Chief Bryson, I think you forgot your uniform. Do you at least have your cuffs since I’m a bad girl?”
Max raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I can find a set somewhere in our bedroom. Is the cuff key still taped to the back of the headboard?”
“Why? Do you plan on wearing them?”
“Do you?”
“Ooo. That was an actual purr.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “You like that?”
She lifted a finger and tilted her head for a long
