Lieutenant Page 8

  Literally. Notes personally signed by Owen, although we’ve already cleared it with the principal.

  Still, that’ll be a neat keepsake for the kids.

  My parents, Carter’s family, and Owen’s family are staying at the hotel. At eleven thirty, Carter escorted his mom and dad upstairs, but he hasn’t returned yet. Owen’s family left a little after ten, because they’re departing early in the morning to drive back to Tampa. Daddy and Momma have already left and headed to their hotel room.

  I plop down in my chair next to Owen after ShaeLynn Samuels says her good-byes for the night.

  “Can we blow this party yet?” I mutter as I lean forward to take my shoes off under the table.

  I know Owen’s watching me. It’s probably killing my poor boy that he can’t drop to his knees, help me do it, and then massage my aching feet for me.

  “Soon,” he says. “Someone’s not back yet.”

  I personally think he likes torturing himself a little. When he can’t refer to Carter as “Sir,” he’ll frequently call him “Someone” instead.

  Still gets that S-sound in there.

  I glance around, catch Dray’s eye, and tap my left wrist, where a watch would be if I wore one tonight.

  He nods and starts looking around, quickly excusing himself from the people he’s talking with, and heads out of the ballroom.

  He’s on it. Carter chose well hiring him to be my chief of staff, and I’m looking forward to him working with me for the next sixteen years, if I’m lucky.

  I grab my shoes, set them on Carter’s empty chair next to me, and sit back in mine. “This was a good night. I’ve been to several of these things, or ones like them, and they’re usually sucky. I think we did great.”

  Owen nods, but he’s staring at his left thumbnail as he sort of picks at it with his right index finger.

  Our boy is exhausted. Done.

  And damned if I can do a single thing about it right now. I’m kicking myself in the ass we didn’t get a hotel suite of our own, but Carter nixed that idea. Said even if we are paying for it out of our own pockets, and paid the security detail ourselves, it’d still look bad because only half the story would get out.

  Better to do this the right way.

  He’s right, I know he is, but that doesn’t mean I like it.

  I hate that I’m not going to be able to let our boy curl up with me tonight and rub his head while he goes to sleep.

  As I watch Owen, I think about last night, the conversation Carter and I had.

  Seeing Owen like this, at the end of his emotional tether, I wonder if in eight years I’m really going to want to run for governor after all.

  * * * *

  Last night, while I’m standing at the end of our bed and staring down at the two different outfits I have laying on it, and I’m trying to decide which one to wear to the swearing in ceremony, Carter walks in the room and sits on the edge of our bed.

  A bed that’s going to be empty by one far too soon. Owen is over at the capitol tonight, and will be home at some point. I thought Carter was going to be with him, but he surprises me by returning early.

  “I want to talk, Suse.”

  When he calls me that he gets my full attention, because not only are we talking as equals, it’s something serious and personal he wants to discuss. It’s kind of our conversational safeword.

  I call him Carter Edward Wilson to achieve the same effect, because he says it reminds him of his mom yelling at him with his full name as a kid, and is a guaranteed chub-killer if ever there was one.

  If I call him Mr. Wilson it just turns him the fuck on.

  Kind of turns me on, too.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He meets my gaze from where he’s lounging on the bed. He’s still fully dressed, another reason I know he’s about to delve in to something serious. We can’t do these talks semi- or fully naked, because, inevitably, we end up fucking.

  “I want to revisit a discussion,” he says.

  “About?”

  “Children.”

  I actually need a second to process what he said. We had that talk years ago, before Owen ran for the Hillsborough County Commission. We haven’t talked about it again, because Carter told me not to bring it up unless I was ready to give up politics.

  Carter told me he gave Owen a similar admonishment years ago.

  It’s been the untouchable topic for all of us since then.

  “Um.” I swallow because my throat’s gone dry. “Ooookaaaay?”

  “You and I both know Owen wants kids.”

  I nod. That’s a given. He’s a great adopted uncle to Carter’s nieces and nephews, and to children of friends of ours.

  He’d be an amazing father.

  “And so do I,” he says.

  I stare at him, unsure how to process this.

  “Yes or no answer only, Suse. No qualifiers. Do you still want kids?”

  “Yes,” I whisper. I can’t help it. I do, even though I’d pretty much given up on the thought of having them.

  He nods. “Okay.” He stands and turns to go.

  “Wait, what?”

  He’s heading toward our bathroom. “What?” he calls back without turning.

  I follow him. “That’s all the conversation we’re having about this?”

  “It was a yes or no question, pet. Is your answer still yes?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  He turns, his expression now full of dark thunder. “Devotion,” he snaps.

  I can’t help it—I drop into the formal bow right where I stand on the bathroom floor. My heart’s pounding in my chest even as my forehead presses against the cool tile.

  I hear him moving around, the sound of him opening the medicine cabinet, taking something out.

  The sound of something landing in the garbage can.

  The bastard extraordinaire’s fist grabs my hair and wrenches my head back. In his other hand is the bathroom garbage can.

  He tips it so that I can see inside it are my packages of birth control pills.

  “When I flip you back to pet,” he softly growls, “and you don’t safeword, you do not fucking get to question me or forget to ‘yes, Sir’ me.” His tone sounds low, deliberate, threatening, and very fucking sexy. “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I’m…wet. I mean, I can feel my juices running down the insides of my thighs right there, and my clit is throbbing something crazy. We haven’t had any playtime in the past couple of weeks, and I know tonight all we’ll do is collapse in exhaustion.

  But right now, if he wants to bend me over and fuck me…yeah. I’ll happily do it.

  I forget how fucking hot it is when he forces me let go to him.

  How much I want and need this from him sometimes. I need the bastard extraordinaire, and I’d be lying if I denied it.

  This is what I can’t get with Owen, because Owen doesn’t have a bastardly cell in his body, much less a bastardly bone.

  Although the bone he does have is very, very nice.

  “I will handle Owen,” Carter says. “If you’re changing your answer to no, then tell me now.”

  “I…” I swallow, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “Not changing my answer, Sir, but I’m not giving up my current office or my career.”

  “I’m not asking you to give up politics, pet.” He chuckles. “We’re here. We’ve done it. But when I sat down and thought about it this morning, I realized how much time has passed, and how old we’re getting.”

  His grip in my hair gentles and he sets the garbage can aside to sit on the floor with me with a soft, pained grunt. “If we’re going to have kids, we should probably have them sooner rather than later.” With his free hand, he brushes the hair away from my face. “At Ease,” he softly says.

  I rise into the position. Like this, I’m looking into his eyes.

  “I’ll talk to Owen,” he says. “I’ll handle it my way. We’re not kids just starting out now.
We’ll figure it out, how to juggle everything. If he’s okay with me being listed as their father on their birth certificates, then we’ll do it. I really think he will. Back then, I honestly don’t think he could have handled it. But we’re all older and tougher now.”

  “Time is never our friend, and it’s never on our side,” I say. It’s one of Daddy’s favorite sayings, and Carter knows that. “And take time to make time, or we’ll regret it.” That was one of Nana’s favorite sayings.

  He knows that, too.

  Carter slowly nods as he smiles. “Exactly.”

  I study him for a moment. “Is this about what happened at the school, Sir?”

  I don’t have to clarify. He damn well knows what I mean.

  The shoot-out.

  He doesn’t answer me, at first. I was beginning to think he wouldn’t when he finally sighs. “Yeah. I can’t say no to him, Suse. I know he wants kids. He’s never asked since our conversation years ago, but I…I can see it in his face every time the subject is brought up. Every time you and I dodge the question of kids from others and he’s standing right there listening and trying to pretend it doesn’t impact him, too. Someone was joking with me about it today in front of him, and…I could see it fucking kills him.

  “I’m sure Owen’s not going to care who’s on the birth certificate as long as he gets to help raise them. In four to eight years, he’ll get to step back from this life. You know as well as I do that he doesn’t want to run for anything else. I want him to have a greater purpose once that happens, and it would make him so damn happy to be a dad. And if you run for the US Senate, all the better. He can stay home with the kids while I help you on the campaign trail.”

  I snort. “You won’t be able to stay away from him that long. You big softy.”

  He finally smiles and touches a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell him that. Don’t want to lose my bastard label.”

  He holds his hands out to me, wiggling his fingers, and I stand to help him up from the floor. “Also, don’t be shocked if I mindfuck him a little,” he adds. “Go with whatever he says I said, huh? I might have some fun with this. He’s so tightly wound right now, I need to work some secret kink into his routine.”

  I smirk. “Yes, Sir. Whatever you say, Sir.”

  “Smart-ass.” He smacks my ass, then rubs the sting away and kisses me.

  “Is that why you’re home early?”

  “Yeah. He’ll be along shortly. Security detail will bring him. I wanted him to try to get used to not having me there sometimes.”

  About that time, we hear a tell-tale beep next door, the sound of the alarm being disarmed at Owen’s townhouse. Moments later, the sound of him walking upstairs, then the beep as the door between his bedroom and ours is unlocked with the keypad and opened.

  Carter drops me a wink and tips his head for me to go to our boy.

  Owen’s…exhausted. I can see it in his face before he drops to his knees in front of me in greeting. I immediately sit in front of him on the floor, much like Carter sat with me, and I rub his scalp. This will be the last time we get to do this for a while. Tomorrow night, he’ll officially belong to the people of the great state of Florida, he’ll officially be living in the mansion, and it’ll be Carter who mostly gets to do this with him.

  “My very good boy,” I coo. “You made me so proud today.” I pull him into my lap so he can curl up there with his head against my thighs.

  * * * *

  As I sit in the hotel ballroom tonight and watch my boy, I think about last night’s conversation with my husband before Owen returned home.

  Combined with this afternoon’s earlier desk fucking in Owen’s office, I know it means Carter likely had the conversation with Owen right before I was called in. Maybe just after.

  Carter sometimes has a flair for the dramatic, when it suits him.

  It’s also likely why he took the risk of stripping Owen there in the office, because better that than risk Owen accidentally getting suspicious stains on his suit.

  Owen had a shitty childhood with a viciously narcissistic mother. Ironically, I know it’s one of the reasons Owen wants to have kids. A chance to right his own wronged childhood by having kids to bestow the kind of unconditional love on them that he didn’t receive until he met Carter and me. A way to finish healing the thin spots that still exist in his soul and heart.

  I want to pull Owen into my arms and hold him right now. I want to make love to him—all three of us—and pick out baby names together.

  Make no mistake about it—I’m going to let Owen name our children. And they will all have Taylor as their middle name.

  And, meanwhile, I will look to see what can legally be done to have both men’s names on the birth certificate. California has added some interesting workarounds to take IVF parentage into account when it’s an open arrangement between all three people, the “parents” and the “donor,” if the donor is going to be an active part of the child’s life.

  The easiest solution would be the simplest, most straightforward, and the honest one—my husband can’t father children, and we asked our single and unpartnered best friend to do so. Our best friend who also happens to want children. It’s not something we could have risked, politically, years ago.

  We can now.

  I hate myself.

  I hate that I’m already working the angle in my head, spinning the narrative out in such a way as to gain us sympathy and votes. A personal triumph for non-traditional parenting. Overcoming infertility in a creative way.

  I grow more excited as I think about it further. We wouldn’t even have to mention anything about our personal lives. In fact, it would solve all our problems. The public’s assumption would be Owen is always with us because, duh, he’s our children’s biological father, and we want him to be there, with us and them, because he’s a part of their lives.

  We imply we used IVF, a fertility clinic, all while asking people to respect our privacy.

  It’s utterly perfect! It’s…

  I inwardly groan.

  It’s likely aspects of the whole situation that Carter’s already taken into account and researched himself.

  Fucking bastard.

  I smile and shake my head.

  Damn, I love that man. He keeps us on our toes, that’s for sure.

  I can’t help it—my hand goes to my tummy. I know there’s no logical way I could be pregnant right now. Hell, I’m just barely due for my next pill.

  But wouldn’t it be…cool?

  Dray returns a few minutes later as Owen and I are talking to a couple of people who are heading out. From behind them, Dray catches my eye, nods, and holds up five fingers.

  We’re back on the clock.

  Fuck it, my feet hurt, and I’ll carry my damn shoes. I grab my purse and my wrap and stand, patting Owen’s shoulder to give him the signal. He stands and we’re fully “on” again as we make our way out of the ballroom, my arm hooked through his and us pausing near the main doorway where Dray has us hold for a moment.

  Carter returns three minutes later, offering me a smile. “Sorry.” He leans in and pecks my cheek before giving Owen’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Got to talking with Jace and Gene and lost track of time.” Those are two of his older brothers, whom he hasn’t seen since two Christmases ago.

  We spent last Christmas Eve and Christmas locked up at home, the three of us alone, because Owen asked for that the night he won the election.

  He’d needed it.

  We all needed it.

  The limo is ready and the security detail escorts us out. This time, Owen insists I get in first, and I’m too tired to argue. There’s no one outside now behind the barricade lines.

  Moments later, we’re on our way. Both of them loosen their ties and sit back with nearly identical exhausted sighs.

  At the mansion, I grab Owen’s hand and hold him back, pecking him on the cheek and smiling as I rub the lipstick off. “Good boy,” I mouth, and he smiles.

&nbs
p; Tired, but he smiles.

  Then I kiss Carter on the lips before he gets out, and I whisper in his ear. “Give him that for me please.”

  “I will, pet,” he whispers back, dropping me a wink.

  Then they’re gone, heading inside the front door as we pull out of the driveway.

  I sit back for the short ride home, somehow keeping my tears at bay. I want to curl up in bed with both my men tonight and celebrate what we’ve achieved, and I can’t.

  I shiver as the officer escorts me up the walk, because I’ve left my shoes off and the concrete feels cold against my bare feet on this relatively mild Florida January night. Once I’m inside with the alarm reset…

  I’m alone.

  I head upstairs, missing our big soaking tub at the Brandon house.

  The hot tub.

  The pool.

  Our bed.

  My men.

  But this is what I wanted, and I know it’s the exhaustion talking. A full night of sleep under my belt will help immensely.

  I strip and stand in the shower, scrub the makeup off my face.

  Think about the bite marks and bruises inside my thighs.

  And I smile.

  Yeah, the way Carter’s setting this up…

  That’s freaking haaawwt. Being called up to Owen’s office could mean a simple budget confab…

  Or me being ordered to lock his office door behind me as he stares at me with that sweetly hungry look in his eyes as he unfastens his belt.

  Holy…fuuuuuck.

  Note to self, remind Carter to have Owen keep a spare change of clothes at the office, just in case we accidentally spooge whatever he’s wearing.

  I love my life and what we have, but leave it to Carter to amp things up after we’ve just taken office.

  As if we didn’t have enough excitement, and he manages to shake things up even more.

  After my shower, I dry off and don’t bother putting on clothes as I head for bed. I suspect my panty infraction caning won’t happen tonight after all. Owen will need Carter for a while.