“I saw the cutest cows yesterday,” she said the second the call connected, eyes bright. Nothelloorare your joints still attached toyour skeleton? Just cows.
I smiled despite the pain. “That’s awesome, baby.”
She was already in her pajamas, a tiny pair of cotton sleep shorts and one of the shirts she had stolen from my closet. It was impossible not to notice the way her perfect tits bounced beneath the fabric with every animated gesture she made.
“You are not going to believe the size of Parker’s family farm.”
“How big are we talking?”
She held her hands up like she was about to describe a fish. “Huge. Like . . . acres? Many of them. I forgot the exact number, but it was alot. And the cows. Gosh, I wanted to pet every single one.”
I let myself relax into the sound of her voice. “Did you?”
“Only two. Parker said some of them get nervous around strangers, and I didn’t want to be rude.” Her eyes sparkled with pride. “But it looks like they’re going to supply the milk for our skincare line.”
It was easy to forget the ice burning into my skin when she looked that happy. I’d give anything to keep her that way for the rest of our lives.
“You guys work fast.”
“Well, Parker does,” she corrected, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I mostly followed her around, taking notes and trying not to get in the way.”
“Hey, the honey is all yours,” I said. “She’s lucky to have you.”
She grinned. “Thank you.”
I shifted the ice packs, wincing. She noticed instantly.
“You’re hurting.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Just a hazard of the trade. I’m okay.”
Her gaze softened, concerned but not hovering. She was gentle like that. “Are you sure?”
“Promise.” I paused. “It wasn’t our best day, though, so let’s not talk about the games. Tell me what you did today.”
“Oh.” She perked back up. “Well, I talked to two retailers who might be interested in our Bee Intimate line. One is that little eco-boutique in Longview, and theother—”
I cocked a brow when she hesitated.
“Yes?”
“It’s an . . . adult store in Portland.”
I blinked. “Like a sex shop?”
“Mm-hmm. They already sell a few edible body products, but they’re especially interested in stocking goods from queer and women-owned businesses.”
I tried—and failed—not to imagine Bella in a sex shop. Her curiosity, her cheeks warming, her fingerstoyingwith things. The mental image shot straight through my body in a way the team’s physical therapist would definitely advise against.
“Have you ever been in a sex shop?” I asked, careful with my words.
She shrugged. “Sure, a few times.”
My eyebrows rose. “A few?”
She mistook my tone for casual interest instead of where I actually wanted this conversation to go.
“I was curious. It’s not just toys, you know. A lot of them have great resources about sensory stuff and relationships.” She tilted her head. “You should go sometime.”
