Lock You Down (Rivers Brothers 2)

To that, my lips curved up, wondering if I had been as stupid as he was being. Probably. Probably more than a few times. I suddenly had a whole new respect toward King for putting up with me when I was Calvin's age.

"Good luck with the denial game, kid. Let me know how that works out for you in the long run. The commercials are about to air."

"I can't watch the commercials. I have to clean her fucking shoes," he grumbled.

When I got back to the door, I found Reagan standing there, smiling at me. It was a smile I didn't quite recognize, but it was warm and interested and curious.

"What, babe?"

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"If you want to put up with that in about twenty years."

"Put up with what? More delinquents?"

"Yeah. But maybe ones we made."

We hadn't done much of the long-term talking. We both figured there would be time for it, that we had other stuff on our plates at present.

We hadn't discussed kids.

"Want 'em if you give 'em to me," I told her, arms going around her lower back.

"Maybe a couple I made. Maybe a couple we invite in?" she asked, tone a little hesitant.

Adoption mattered to her. Of course it did. She'd been adopted. Luis had been adopted. Sammy had been adopted. They'd never have been able to be a family if not for that.

"Whatever way they come to us," I assured her. "Hopefully, we don't get one of those smartasses," I said, jerking my head toward Calvin behind me.

"Oh, Nixon. I'm pretty sure that any kid of yours is going to be a smartass. You're just going to need to resign yourself to that fact."

She was probably right.

And I was excited to someday find out.Reagan - 6 months"It's, um, it has a lot of character," I said, trying to choose my words carefully.

Nixon had called me earlier to say that our house hunt was officially over, that he found the perfect place for us.

We'd long ago decided that his place was too small for more than him, and that mine didn't have what we wanted to have for the long term. A yard. More bedrooms. Room to grow.

I'd handed off the task to Nixon since he knew more about foundations and electrical and whatnot than I ever would. We agreed to visit the ones he liked most out of the lot when he narrowed it down.

I thought we'd visit at least half a dozen houses.

Then he'd come home to tell me he'd found the one.

I wasn't prepared for it.

And by that, I mean I was not prepared for Nixon's dream house to be hideous.

There was no other way to describe it.

It was hideous.

A two-story colonial with a sand-colored brick front, an assortment of atrocious wallpaper, crumbling tile that should not have ever been sold in shades of pink, mint, and yellow, with wood paneling, and a shocking lack of windows.

As diplomatic as my words were, as hard as I was trying to mask my disgust, Nixon knew me too well. He rocked back on his heels, lips curved up into a smirk. "You need to stop looking at the surface shit. Wallpaper gets stripped off, wood paneling gets ripped out, new tile, new paint, a couple more windows, finish the basement and the attic. It's a massive house. It has good bones. It just needs a little fixing up."

"I think your opinion of 'a little fixing up' and mine vary a lot," I told him, nodding toward the floral backsplash in the kitchen. Floral. Who had floral tile in a kitchen?

"Come on, you haven't seen the best part," he told me.

And no, no I had not.

But his excitement had me curious as he led me toward the mossy and molded back porch.

Admittedly, the back yard was nice. It needed some seeding, some gardens, a few trees. But it would be a great yard for kids someday.

"I mean, yeah, the yard is nice. It's just not... what?" I asked, seeing his smile stretch wider.

"You're not looking, babe," he said.

"I am looking at the yar... oh," I said, my breath whooshing out of me.

I'd been too focused on the one-acre-sized square.

And not what was behind it.

Our backyard butted up to Charlie and Helen's.

"Well then," I said, sharing his smile. "You're right. This is the one."Nixon - 1 yearI wanted to wait.

Until the crazy died down with her brand suddenly becoming the best selling whiskey on the market, knocking down the previously best-known brand out of its decade-long reign.

And then I wanted to wait until the trial was over.

She'd been a nervous wreck the entire time, constantly on the phone with Lo, getting coached, getting talked off ledges.

In the end, she didn't end up having much to worry about. By the time she got on the stand, not a single person in that room thought the man was innocent with all the other witnesses, all the other statements.