Just Her Luck (36 page)

Men.

Glancing over my shoulder, I elbowed him in the gut.

He oomph-ed and pulled back, grimacing.

"Not laughing now, are ya?" I smirked.

He sulked for a second and rubbed his stomach.

An idea came to me suddenly and I smiled slowly, running with it.

"Hey, Thatcher? When you said 'in your pants' were you trying to tell me you have a fat ass?" I teased slyly, slipping it in there.

His jaw dropped and he sputtered at me.

I broke out into a fit of loud guffaws, watching the many expressions flitting across his face.

"I do not have a fat ass!" he snapped, settling for indignant.

Sobering up quickly, I gave him a funny look, and he frowned.

"I don't," he insisted, sounding less confident than before.

I fought hard to keep a straight face, just to see what he’d do if I kept it up, and in the end, it paid off.

More unsure now than ever, he reached around self-consciously and gripped his butt, squeezing his ass as he tried to get a good look at it.

I lost it right then, breathless laughter escaping me that had me rollin'.

And that's how his parents found us.

Me, red faced, laughing my booty off, strawberries clutched to my tummy, and Thatcher, squeezing his own bottom, trying to look behind himself at it at the same time.

I laughed even harder when his dads all frowned at him, trying to figure out what, exactly, he was doing.

They were all sporting expressions of true bafflement, ranging from slightly worried to
what the friggin’ hell.

"Thatch, hun," his mother chastised sweetly, tapping his shoulder as she flounced by, practically skipping into the room.

She had a pretty light blue sundress on and matching little flats to complement.

"Don't play with your bottom in the kitchen, love,” she gently rebuked, “Food is prepared in here, you silly goose!"

Her wavy blonde hair showed flecks of gold and white gray in it as she shook her head at her son, bemused, loose perfect curls flitting about across her delicate face.

She did raise him after all, and she is his mother
-odd in her own way, to top it all off-
his idiosyncrasies are probably nothing out of the ordinary to her by now.

She walked over to the bowl of freshly washed berries, the ones on the side board, and picked them up, then flounced back out to take them to the table, an almost jaunty step to her bouncy flounce as she fluttered around.

Thatch dropped his hands at the sound of her voice, turning bright red when he saw we had an audience, then almost purple when he glanced over at his fathers.

"But I wasn't..." he tried to protest.

"Yeah you were," I added helpfully, loving his discomfort.

"Looked like it to me," Jep put in, rubbing at his chin as he fought a smile.

Phin raised a brow at Thatcher, silently agreeing with everyone else, and Brayden's brows furrowed, a confused frown on his typically surly face.

I unpeeled the bowl from myself and returned it to the sink, ready to finish cutting all those yummy little strawberries up.

Brayden kept glancing from Thatcher to his backside, scratching his head as if truly baffled.

"Is this one of them new-fangled fads your mama's always tryin’ to get us to try out with her?" he asked bluntly.

Phin grinned and slapped Jep on the back, brown eyes dancing.

I tried to keep my eyes from rounding and my jaw from dropping, but if he means what I
think
he means...

Then, heaven help me!

My poor ears!

"No, Bray, this is genetics rearin’ its ugly head," Phin guffawed gleefully, nodding his head towards Jep.

"You can't pin this on me!" Jep burst out indignantly, acting just like Thatcher, hand thrust out towards his son, waving wildly, "He may be mine," his hands frantically waved between Thatch's face to his ass, "but he shares you two degenerates blood line as well as mine! Besides, I never played with my own ass!"

"I wasn't playing with my ass!" Thatcher shouted in protest, face pinking up all over again.

"You were, son," Brayden rumbled out, very matter of fact, "In front of us, your mama, god and everyone. Even Miss Genevieve over there," lastly, he gestured at me.

By now I was bent over the sink, giggling hysterically, wiping the tears from my eyes as I listened in, eaves dropping shamelessly as they argued.

"Damn it, Daddy, I wasn't!" Thatcher insisted.

"Then what
were
you doin', son?" Phin interjected, fighting back a smile.

"Well..." he started, while they all stared at him, waiting expectantly for him to explain himself.

"He thinks he has a fat ass," I chimed in, turning to address all present.

"I don't need any help from you, woman!" Thatcher thundered at me, whipping around to point at me, the funniest look I'd ever seen on his face.

"Never said you did,
cupcake,"
I said tartly, popping a piece of cut up strawberry into my mouth, grinning cheekily as he watched.

He growled and eyed my lips as I slowly chewed.

"Told ya. I like her," Phin grinned widely, nudging Jep.

"You think your ass is too big, Thatch? I thought that was only something women worried about..." Jep said thoughtfully, then tried to peek over his shoulder at his own ass.

"Oh, my god!" Thatcher groaned, and a garbled laugh popped out of me, my hand slapping over my mouth.

Thatcher shoved his hands in front of his face and groaned into them a little more.

"Now, fellas. Give him a chance. Let the boy explain," Brayden said in his son’s defense, his deep bass barking out, sharp and authoritative.

Everyone settled down immediately and he waited, crossing his massive arms over his thick chest, waiting for Thatcher to continue.

"Finally," Thatcher sighed, relieved, "Someone's making some sense around here!"

"They're waiting," I sang under my breath, knowing it would get him going again.

He didn't say anything
- he didn't have to-
he just pointed at me.

Sucking my lips in, I put my hands behind my back.

"She said I have a fat ass!" he all but shouted and gestured at me, waving at me accusingly, hand thrust outward.

I shrugged when their gazes collectively swung towards me.

"I asked him if he thought he had a fat ass because he said that's where all his food goes," I explained, twisting his words a bit, fingers crossed.

Just a smidgeon.

Heh.

"I did not! I..."

"Then he started going to town on them, gripping them like ripe melons.” Shaking my head, I made a face and shrugged, “I don't know what to tell you..." I trailed off.

"Did someone say melons?" Ephraim asked happily, wandering into the kitchen, headed straight for me, curling my toes as he gave me a knee shaking, 'good morning, baby' kiss.

He picked up a strawberry from the bowl and bit into it, then offered me the rest.

"Hey!" Thatcher protested, "Why does
he
get one and I don't?"

Smiling to myself, I plucked up the smallest one I could find and held my hand out to him.

He glared at it and then me, eyeing it like I’d just offered him a wad of dryer lint.

"His was bigger."

I laughed on the inside at his put out tone.

"I ate most of it,” I said reasonably, friendly smile directed at him, “Want me to hack up the rest and you can have the difference?"

He thought about that for a minute, and I fought not to gag.

Well, Vieve, it
was
your suggestion.

"You
could
just share one with me." He said mischievously and grinned hopefully.

"Here, you can have them all." I plopped the bowl into his arms and motioned for him to have at it.

Ephraim watched the exchange and chuckled, smug as he grinned at Thatcher.

"Where's the love,
honey lamb
?" Thatcher sighed dramatically, tossing a strawberry at his brother. "I thought you liked me."

I grinned and gave him a ‘there-there’ pat, snagging a berry from the bowl.

Thatcher’s body sulked, but his eyes twinkled as he watched me.

I bit into it, taking more than my fair share, and then popped the rest in when he thought I was going to give him the rest.

"I like him best?" I told him sweetly, swallowing the tasty morsel, giggling when his jaw dropped and he gave me a dirty look, then growled and spun on his heel.

“Evil woman…” he muttered, “A tease is what she is… a damned tease…”

Their dads laughed while Thatcher huffed, stuffing a huge strawberry into his mouth, mumbling around it as he stormed out with the strawberry bowl tightly clutched in his arms.

Phin and Brayden shared a look and Jep caught on.

"Don't say it! Either one of you!" he burst out.

They didn’t need to and everyone knew it.

Jep threw his arms up and tossed his head back.

“Ingrates,” he ranted quietly, “lumbering ingrates… I’m surrounded by them… and there’s no escaping…”

He stormed from the room, following in Thatcher's wake.

Glancing at one another once more, both of the other men grinned.

"I know you're smilin’ in there, you smug bastards, so you can just shove it!" Jep bellowed.

There was a slight pause and then a scuffling sound, followed by muffled cursing and manly grunting, then a squeal and more grunting.

What? Did someone let a pig in or something?

Do they even own pigs?
I wondered.

I swear, this place is a mad house sometimes.

Curious, I cocked my head to the side and tried to hear more, but soon realized that wasn't really necessary.

"Share those god damn strawberries, you stingy little...
argh!"

Odd grunting noises, much louder now, came from the dining room, and my eyes widened.

Ephraim and I shared a look.

"Jep!" Barb barked out.

"What?” he huffed, slightly breathless, “He's mine! I helped make him! I can sit on him if I want to!"

"Get off me, you smarmy... grumpy old… ah!"

There was a loud thwack, then a yelp and a series of them.

"Ow!"

"Ow!"

"Alright!"

"Mama!"

"I'm done! We're done!"

“Shii… ow! I give!”

"Now give me those berries and
hug!"
Barb bellowed.

"Awww, Mama..." Thatcher protested.

"It's really not..." Jep began.

There were some manly chuckles trickling in and then, "You want some of this too? Don't you go givin’ me that look, Reeve Marshall Harrison!
Boy
, you'll be next! All y’all quit laughin'! It aint funny!" she growled with a suddenly very apparent, very thick accent.

"Uh-oh," Ephraim chuckled, "Mama's gone all country on ‘em."

"I take it that's a bad thing?" I asked curiously, glancing up at him.

They all nodded.

"What I want to know is," Phin said thoughtfully, "where’d she get the newspaper to roll up? I was sure I'd hidden ‘em all."

"Ephraim?" I turned to stare up into my cowboy’s handsome face, his blue eyes twinkling down at me

"Yes, baby?" he grinned at the look of awe and apparent envy on my face.

"Your mom is so
awesome!"

Will Or Will Not

Thatcher watched me from across the table, staring at me accusingly, keeping up a steady 'scoop and shovel' technique as he eye-balled me.

"Better be careful, Thatch," Sawyer joked, "You're face might freeze like that and stay that way."

Thatch grunted, but otherwise didn't acknowledge his brother.

"Why
are
you mad at me?" I finally dared to ask him. "Are you still sore about the whole black mail/kissy face/nuts thing? The strawberries? Or is this something new? You're so hot and cold sometimes,” I muttered, “I can't keep up!"

"What black mail/kissy face/nuts thing?" Sawyer asked, head popping up, setting his fork down, surprised.

"Nothing," Thatcher said quickly, glancing over at his fathers.

They were too busy eating and talking, and hadn't noticed.

"He was so desperate to be kissed, he tried to trick Genny into layin’ one on him for his silence about us catchin' you two suckin’ face."