Peeking down at myself, I could have sworn I heard my dick answer me. But you promised I’d get to play! Frowning, I tucked myself back into my pants. “I’m not stupid enough to make promises. To anybody. Or anything,” I amended, since I was talking to my junk. That was something I’d learned early on. If you never swore your life to anything, you couldn’t get bitten in the ass by it later. It was human nature to go back on your word; that was why I never gave it.
Even my wedding vows had had all the pertinent pledges removed. Anna and I had tied the knot in some city hall back East…somewhere. I don’t remember where. Our ceremony had been just us and the judge, and it had been about as simple as it could be. Basically, it had gone something like this—Anna, do you take this douche to be your husband? Yeah, I do. Griffin, do you take this knockout to be your wife? Sure, why not. And that was all the promise we’d given each other. It was all that was needed.
When Anna came back into the room, I was my usual self—just a half chub was trying to poke through my jeans. But even that faded when I saw the little miracle in my wife’s arms. “Daddy!” Gibson tossed her hands my way and leaned so hard in my direction that Anna had to struggle to hold on to her. Gibson’s little face scrunched with annoyed concentration while she fought against her mom. Then, with a pout that only a little kid could make adorable, she turned and scowled at Anna. “Want Daddy.” She said it as a command, not a request. Gibson was only around a year and a half, but she already knew what she wanted, and she fully expected to get her way. She was so much like me, it was scary.
Anna rolled her eyes but stepped closer so Gibson could reach me. When her little hands touched my skin, they suddenly became razor-like talons. Like an eagle securing a fish from the sea, Gibson clamped onto my forearm with a surprising amount of freakish strength. “Ow, shit! Relax, Gibs. I’m right here.”
Grunting, I pulled her into my side and examined what was left of my arm. I half expected to see a mutilated flap of skin hanging off the bone. Instead, all I saw were bright red streaks where she’d raked me. Anna winced. “Guess I need to cut her nails. Sorry.”
I shrugged. “The day isn’t truly awesome until a gorgeous girl has scratched me up. I wear my war wounds with pride.” Looking at the design she’d left behind, I added, “I might actually get this one tattooed on me. How cool would permanent shred marks be?”
Anna smiled, then shook her head. “No, if you want claw marks to tattoo, I’ll give you some good ones. Then every time you look at them, you can remember how you got them.”
“Damn…yeah, that’s a much better plan. Fuck, you have the best ideas.”
Gibson grabbed my nose and pulled my attention her way, where she liked it. Girl had a jealous streak a mile wide. Looking at her was like looking at a miniature version of me, if I were a girl. She had the same light blue eyes, same blond hair, although hers was a pristine platinum color while mine was a little dirtier. As it should be. She gave me a smile full of shiny white teeth, then spouted, “Fuck.”
Anna crossed her arms over her chest, but her expression was more amused than annoyed. “I think we’re at the point where we need to start watching our language.”
I looked past Gibson to Anna. “Watch my language? You might as well ask me to hop on one foot while reciting the alphabet backwards. I can’t police myself like that twenty-four/seven. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.”
Anna swished her hands at Gibson. “Well, she’s starting to copy you, and if we don’t put a stop to it now, she’s going to start calling people cocksuckers soon.”
I started laughing. “That…would be so awesome.”
Anna put her hands on her hips; true irritation was starting to edge out her amusement now. “No, it wouldn’t be.” She smiled. “Well, yeah, it kind of would be, but as parents, we have to put a stop to that kind of stuff.” She sighed. “Well, we should try anyway.”
Looking back at Gibson, I frowned. “I suppose I could try.” Even though I was sure she didn’t have a clue what we were talking about, Gibson laid her head on my shoulder, wrapped her arms around my neck, and patted my back like she was encouraging me. Yeah, if it would help Gibson, I would try to control my mouth. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for that little girl.
The three of us started heading toward the bedroom. Anna grabbed her purse off the bed; the covers were rumpled and falling off, but neither one of us had bothered to fix it. Why put it together if we were just going to mess it up again? That was my philosophy anyway, and Anna seemed to agree with it. We had a tendency to think alike, which really freaked me the fuck out.
As Anna slipped the strap of her mammoth bag over her shoulder, she looked over at me. I’d shifted Gibson onto my back and I was bouncing her up and down…like a pogo stick. Mmmm, I loved pogo sticks.
“Before I forget, your dad called.” She frowned after she said it, and I wondered if Pops had done or said something to piss her off. It wouldn’t surprise me. Dad had no filter. Mom said it ran in the family. Whatever.