McCoy (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 3)

"Yeah?" Shy asked, straightening.

"Your panties are sticking out of your pant leg. Just thought you should know that," she said, laughing all the way out the door.

But before Shy could even reach down to fetch them, there was Isaiah, grabbing them, then the bottle of cleaner Shy had abandoned, and setting to cleaning the front of the fridge.

With Shy's panties.

Shy stood there horrified for a long moment before a laugh bubbled up and burst out of her. The sound of it drew me in. And before long, we were both half folded over, leaning against each other as she laughed at the absurdity of it all.

We'd been so lost in the moment that we missed another door opening and closing.

But then there was Eddie, coming into the kitchen with grocery bags because Shy had totally guilted into coming over to make dinner because she knew she would be cleaning all day.

"Hey, yo, little ese is cleaning the fridge with your drawers, mami," Eddie declared, calm, matter-of-fact.

The next round of laughter went on for longer still.

I found after a lifetime of seriousness, of sternness, that joy and laughter came easily with Shy, with our kids.

Hell, she stopped making jokes about how little I smiled years ago. Because she and our children gave me a reason to do so on a daily basis.

So much had changed.

All—fucking all—of it for the better.

All because this woman once tried to kill me.