As I swoop her up in a hug, swinging her around while she giggles into my neck, I silently acknowledge how much I want to be her “baby” for real.
So fucking much.
Even smelling faintly of sour beer, she’s the best thing I’ve ever held in my arms. When I set her down, gazing into her happy, flushed face, I’m tempted to have a fake-boyfriend existential crisis right then, to beg her to be my girl for real in the middle of the family members and friends congratulating my teammates all around us.
But I have more self-control than that.
And I have some very important “kissing for the cameras” to do…
I pull her in, murmuring, “Proud of you, too, Beer Tits,” against her lips, making her laugh again as we start to kiss.
We kiss and laugh and smile and kiss, neither one of us seeming to want the moment to end, until Parker checks my hip and mutters, “Get a room, you two. Jesus. There are children present.”
But as we come up for air, I can see he’s grinning.
He almost looks…proud. Of us.
I decide maybe I am, too.
He delivers more apologies from Makena, explaining that her cell phone died, so she couldn’t respond to Charlotte’s last text. But she just called Parker from the vet’s office, where she’s beentrying to help save the runt of the litter, a tiny raccoon baby that the mother tried to eat when the vet stepped into the food truck.
“But the doc said that was probably because she was so stressed out and felt cornered,” Parker continues. “Not because she’s actually an unfit mother with cannibalistic tendencies. She seems to be doing well with the other babies, but the animal hospital is going to hold her and the other kits for observation for a day or two. Just until the rabies tests hopefully come back clear and Big Mama has proven she has reliable parenting instincts.”
“What a relief,” I deadpan, earning a laugh and a punch on the shoulder from Parker.
“Fuck you, dude,” he says. “I wasn’t into the raccoon birth drama at first, either, but I’ve been getting updates the entire game. Now, I’m fucking invested.” He sighs, rolling his eyes as he adds, “And I might be helping bottle feed a baby raccoon if the runt lives and Makena gets permission to foster him.”
Charlotte laughs. “Of course, she offered to foster it. She talks a big game, but underneath she’s a total softie.”
Parker’s tone warms as he agrees, “Yeah, she is. I love her so much. I’m going to buy her a super big sandwich with extra hot peppers to prove it before I pick her up at the animal hospital. Her love language is peppers. And large sandwiches.” He starts to move away before seeming to remember something and shifting back a step to whisper, “Oh, and she said that she’ll get revenge for you with the ‘passive aggressive cunt whores’ and not to worry your pretty head about it.” He glances around, as if checking to be sure we aren’t being overheard. “She said that would make sense to you, but if it doesn’t, I can call her at the animal hospital. I have the number.”
Charlotte shakes her head. “No, don’t worry about calling. It makes sense, but I’ll text her tomorrow to let her know she doesn’t have to bother. I don’t need revenge. I’m a grown-up.”
He arches a brow. “Are you sure? She sounded pissed and thirsty for vengeance on your behalf.”
“I’m sure,” Charlotte says. “I have better things to do than feed the trolls.”
Parker grunts. “Okay, I’ll convey the message. But fair warning, Makena may still choose violence. She can swing from sweet, nurturing savior of infant wildlife to avenging Valkyrie with a mouth full of very cutting verbal warfare so fast it would make your head swim.”
“Two sides of the same coin, I think,” Charlotte says with a fond smile. “She’s the primal mama bear, prepared to love hard or defend hard. Depending on what her baby bears need.”
Parker cants his head to one side, seeming to think on that for a beat. “Yeah, you’re right. Probably a good thing we’re not planning on having any human babies. If she’s this fierce with her chosen family, I can’t even imagine…” He gives an exaggerated shudder, making us both laugh as he steps away, lifting a hand in farewell.
We turn back to each other, smiles softening now that it’s just us.
“Ready to go eat a ridiculous amount of pizza?” I murmur. “And prove Beer Tits and her main man have nothing to hide from tonight or any other night?”
She nods. “So ready.”
She slips her hand in mine, I hitch my gear bag higher on my other shoulder, and we walk toward the exit. She squeezes my fingers, and I squeeze back, returning her grin.
Let them talk.
I couldn’t give a shit.
I’m the one lucky enough to be leaving with Beer Tits.
Ten
