West (The Henchmen MC 19)

"You want me to steal the Smart puppy?" I asked, watching as her eyes went hopeful.

"Really?"

"We got room for one more."

Sure, we had four. But they were small.

She had her arm-break puppy.

Her stubbed-toe puppy.

Her woke-up-early-on-a-Sunday puppy.

And her I-want-something-new-to-snuggle-but-refuse-to-go-through-pregnancy-again puppy.

"Tonight," she demanded, voice serious.

"Got it. Now, the kids," I said, looking around the corner, seeing a glob of mud fall out of Piper's hair and onto the floor. "The hose?" I asked.

"The hose," she agreed, nodding.

Parents of the year, we were not. We would never be. Parents of the year didn't hose their children down in the driveway like dirty cars. They didn't serve chocolate cake for breakfast. They didn't let their kids run around shrieking like banshees. Good parents didn't have to stock a small hospital in their bathroom cabinets because their offspring jumped off the garage or played bumper bikes on the regular.

Our house was a near disaster zone a good eighty-seven-percent of the time. It was loud. It was hectic. It lacked anything even resembling structure.

But that was exactly how we all thrived.

Auggie and I had long ago agreed that we'd rather have toys all over the living room that spoke of fun getting down and playing with the girls rather than an immaculate house where you didn't hear squeals of laughter and belly laughs because no one was allowed to let life get messy.

"They're clean," Auggie said, dropping down on my lap.

"Gross," Piper grumbled as I leaned down to press a kiss to Auggie's lips.

"I'm cold," Rowan, our oldest, complained as she moved through the living room, dripping wet from the hose, making her way down the hall toward her bedroom. "I want to go to see Uncle Huck in Florida. It's warm there."

"I'm game," I agreed, shrugging. It had been a while since we went down to see the guys. And their women. And their kids.

"We should go soon," Auggie said, voice sounding off.

"Why? We have time."

"Yes," she agreed, grabbing my wrist, pulling my hand down, resting it on her lower belly. "But I am about to be a raging bitch again in a couple weeks."

"Yeah?" I asked, feeling my lips curve up.

"Yeah. Another puppy. And another kid."

"You've never done anything by half, pretty girl."

"That's very true."

"Shit... I guess I better stock up on pickles, huh?"

"You know what I've been craving already?" she asked, lips twitching.

"I don't think I want to know."

"Pickles and mayonnaise sandwiches."

This woman.

With the pranks.

"Yeah, okay, babe," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I'm not joking. And, actually, I'm starving."

And when you were a man with a pregnant woman, you didn't get to tell her to make her own disgusting fucking sandwich. Nope. You had to man-up and do it for her. Even if you knew she was fucking with you.

I steeled my stomach, went to the kitchen, got the concoction together, and brought it out to her, waiting for her to tell me it was a joke.

But, I shit you not, this woman sat up on the couch and ate a goddamn pickle and mayonnaise sandwich.

Been with her twelve years.

The most amazing fucking twelve years of my life.

And it could all possibly come tumbling down over nine months of mayo and pickles.

It was the laugh that did it.

The kind of laugh I'd been hearing a lot over the past decade or so. The victorious kind of laugh. The one that said she got me.

"The look on your face is priceless," she told me.

"What?"

"He was gagging when he was making it, Mommy," Piper declared, still wrapped in her towel, hair dripping.

"I got the picture," Rowan added, making my gaze shoot over to where she was showing her mother a picture of me retching as I was digging the mayo out of the jar.

"It's our Christmas card," Leighla added, smile triumphant.

"You little traitors," I accused. "I taught you everything you know!"

"And now we will band together and use that knowledge against you," Auggie declared, eyes dancing. "It's going to be a long eighty years for you, handsome. Alright girls, go get clothes on," she demanded, shooing them down the hall as she went into the kitchen to get a drink, rinsing the taste out of her mouth.

That was some real dedication.

I was proud of her.

"Auggs."

"Yeah."

"Was the baby thing a part of the prank?" I asked, hearing a hint of sadness in my voice. What can I say, I got attached to the idea in just a couple minutes. A little more crazy never hurt anybody.

"No. That part was real," she told me, coming closer, wrapping her arms around me.

"It's going to be a boy. And we are going to take a stand against all of you."

"It's going to be a girl, and you don't stand a chance."

It turned out, she was right.

And I wouldn't have had it any other fucking way.