Page 12 of Fools Rush Flynn

My wife, Temple.

I think that made my panties a little damp. Which is weird. Could also be caused by Flynn dropping my hand and wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me close to him.

I hold my hand out to Beau. “I can assure you, I am the very real and not at all made-up wife.”

“I can see that, darlin’” Beau says.

“Fuck off, Beau. Go find your own wife.”

Beau just laughs good-naturedly. “Come on you two love birds. The rest of the team is over by the beer tent.”

“Of course they are,” Flynn says. He leans close to my ear. “Do you drink? Seems like something I should know.”

“On occasion. Though beer is not my favorite.”

“We’ll find you something else.”

“Shelby’s drinking a hard lemonade,” Beau says as we walk towards a group of guys. “Homemade too. Smells amazing.”

Flynn’s eyes cut to mine. “Want one of those?”

“Sure.”

“Dude,” Beau says. “Did you know you have some sort of furry creature growing out from under your arm?”

Flynn nods. “That’s Piglet.”

“That is not a pig,” Beau says.

“He’s a dog,” I say.

Beau looks at me, his gaze unbelieving. “You sure about that?”

I laugh. “I am. I even had his DNA tested. He’s mostly Papillon, but he’s got a bit of Corgi, Chihuahua and Maltese mixed in there.”

Beau makes a huh noise. “Cute,” he says dryly.

I reach over and cover Piglet’s ears. “Don’t you listen to him, baby. Mama thinks you’re beautiful. Yes, she does. And I think Daddy does too.”

I’m just playing a part. Being silly. But my words slam into me with all the unintended meanings. It’s then that I notice my boobs are pressed right up on Flynn’s other arm. I might as well be climbing the man.

“Daddy,” Beau repeats with a snort.

I pull away from my not-quite-real-husband and then we’re enveloped by the crowd. His Army buddies and spouses, I assume.

Cruz nods from one of the seats around the picnic table the group has commandeered.

“Hey Temple,” he says with a friendly nod.

“Hi again, Cruz.”

Then there are two women making their way through the group of guys.

“I’m Shelby, Dane’s wife.” She points over her shoulder and a big, broad and thick cowboy raises his beer bottle in my direction.

“And I’m Lucy. I belong to that behemoth over there. Jack!” she calls out.

Jack—I’m assuming—looks up and smiles at her. “You need something, Pocket?”