Chapter Thirteen
Mick stepped out of his car and walked around to the front door of the house. Whitney’s car hadn’t moved from its spot in the garage in over two months, and Eddie had beat him home and taken the other space. As he slung his backpack strap over one shoulder, Mick considered the possibility of renovating the garage to make room for another space or even buying a whole new house. If the three of them were staying together permanently, the current bedroom setup was kind of a nuisance. Maybe a different layout altogether would be better.
The delicious smells of basil and sage tickled Mick’s nose as he entered the house. Italian meant Eddie was cooking. No one made pasta like the big man.
“Whitney! Get off that stepladder. Now!”
Mick groaned as the two of them started in on one another in the kitchen. He tucked his backpack in the hall closet and slipped off his Crocs. Shaking his head, he wondered how much longer they’d continue to snark at one another. Ever since Whitney had come home from the hospital, she’d been pushing the boundaries and Eddie had been dragging her back inside the metaphorical fence, kicking and screaming.
Loins girded, Mick entered the kitchen. He stopped a foot or so inside the doorway and watched the snapping and arm-waving. God, this was just ridiculous. “Enough! You two sound like a couple of toddlers squabbling in the sandbox.”
“Tell her to stay off the stepladder.” Eddie gestured wildly with a slotted spoon. “She shouldn’t be climbing.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Whitney cursed in exasperation. “I’m not a china doll, okay? I won’t break.”
Mick rolled his eyes and stepped forward to referee. They both had valid points, so he had to play this one carefully. “Whitney, Eddie is right. You could lose your balance and hit your chest or strain too far with your arms and hurt the healing muscles.”
“But-”
“No,” Mick cut her off. “And you”-he pointed to Eddie-“need to stop hovering like a helicopter parent. It’s been nine weeks, Eddie. She has to start returning to her normal routine.” He eyed Whitney. “Slowly and carefully.”
The two of them pursed their lips and returned to their tasks. God, they were so much alike and so predictable. Mick tried not to laugh as he scooted between them to wash his hands at the sink.
He leaned against the counter as he dried his hands and looked them over. Eddie had changed into his usual post-shift outfit of athletic shorts and a tee. Whitney had on a simple pink cotton dress. Both were barefoot, which annoyed him to no end considering they were in the kitchen. How many times had he asked them to put on shoes while cooking?
Mick dropped the towel and shoved off the counter. He moved closer to Whitney. He slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. She leaned her head back against him as he whispered, “I missed you today.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmmhmm.” He kissed her cheek. “What did you do today?”
“Kadie was here bright and early, so we worked for a couple of hours and had lunch. Natalie dropped by for an hour this afternoon. The rest of the time I caught up on e-mail and did some brainstorming for that new line I’m helping launch in a few months. I watched my judge shows, too.”
Mick laughed. Since her hospital stay, Whitney had been hooked on a three-hour block of judge shows. He was glad to hear she’d done some more work with Natalie, a private trainer who specialized in helping clients regain strength after major surgeries or trauma. She’d worked with a buddy of Eddie’s who took a bullet to the shoulder during a routine traffic stop, and so far Whitney seemed to enjoy her.
“Did Natalie work you hard?” Mick stepped away and headed to the refrigerator for something cold to drink.
“Nah.” Whitney dug around in a drawer in search of a utensil. “We did twenty minutes of walking on the treadmill, some arm work with those tiny five-pound barbells, and then some stretching and yoga-type stuff.”
“You feel okay during the workout? No dizziness or pain? Did you make sure to stay well hydrated?”
Eddie snorted and elbowed him. “I thought we weren’t supposed to helicopter parent?”
Mick smiled sheepishly. “Oh…yeah.” He glanced at Whitney. “Sorry.”
She laughed. “It’s okay, and yes to the staying hydrated and feeling okay. No to the pain or dizziness. Natalie takes very good care of me.” She motioned to the cabinet. “Grab some plates and silverware. I’ll carry this to the dining room.” She playfully narrowed her eyes at Eddie as she lifted the salad. “Unless the sergeant thinks it’s too heavy?”
“Watch it, sugar.” Eddie slapped the spoon against his open palm. “There’s nothing wrong with your ass.”
Her eyes widened, and Mick chortled. Eddie had a point. They had to be careful with her belly and chest, but there was nothing to prevent Eddie from bending her over a table or chair and paddling that perky ass.
Ever the saucy minx, Whitney just shrugged and tossed her hair over one shoulder. “That goes both ways, Eddie.”
Mick guffawed as Whitney sashayed out of the kitchen. The very thought of Whitney spanking Eddie made him laugh so hard he thought he might pass out. The look on Eddie’s face didn’t help matters. It was a mix of shock and arousal.
“Down, boy,” Mick urged with a pat on Eddie’s arm. “We agreed no sexy times until she’s completely healed.”
“Yeah, I know.” Eddie shifted as if uncomfortable and pulled on a pair of potholders before grabbing the pasta dish from the stove. “And it’s killing me.”
Mick grunted in agreement. He wasn’t faring much better. He’d had four wet dreams in the last week. That was more than he’d had in the last two years combined. Not getting any from Eddie or Whitney was wreaking havoc. His libido hadn’t dropped just because the two of them were temporarily unavailable. He’d even had to give himself a hand in the shower a couple of mornings a week just to get his raging morning woods to go the hell away.
Something had to give.
Mick grabbed the dishes and silverware and made his way to the dining room. He set the table and returned to the kitchen for Whitney’s lemonade and his iced tea. He placed Whitney’s drink in front of her and took his seat.
Dinner had turned into one of his favorite times of the day. The three of them sat around the table and talked and laughed. It was so nice to come home and unwind after work. The counselor Whitney and Eddie had been seeing had suggested setting aside three or four nights a week dedicated to food, conversation, and even board games to help the threesome reconnect. With their busy schedules, it was so easy for something as simple as a shared dinner to be forgotten.
“You see the counselor tomorrow, right?” Mick speared a couple of penne with his fork. “Do I need to pick you up, Whitney?”
She shook her head. “We switched our appointment time. Eddie and I are heading in right after breakfast so he only misses an hour of work or so.”
“A buddy of mine is going to cover my shift until I get in to the station,” Eddie explained. “Plus I’d rather just get it over with than wait all day for the appointment.”
Whitney rolled her eyes. “Graham is not that bad, Eddie.”
“He’s nosy.”
“He’s a therapist.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t need to know about all the women I’ve dated since high school or the first time Mick and I got together.”
“I think he’s trying to make sure our romantic dynamic is, like, healthy or whatever,” Whitney replied. “I mean, yes, we went there to deal with any post-traumatic stress we might have been feeling after I was shot and you had to see me bleeding to death on the floor, but I don’t see a problem with addressing our relationship.” She
