I give them a speculative look as I pull out my wallet, and thumb through it, making sure it’s just cash. Which won’t do me any good on Inara’s planet. It and all my banking information are going to my mom. When I find an ancient condom, I roll my eyes and flick it into the trash. I’d say Inara and I really could have used this, but one rubber wouldn’t have done us much good and probably woulda popped and got us in the same place we are now anyway.
Not that I’m complaining. One of the babies makes an alien burble that has all the humans cooing in delight. I smirk. Nope, not complaining at all.
“Relax,” the headset woman whispers to the camera guy. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She ordered you to—” Whisper, whisper. However she finishes that curious statement, I miss it.
The man nods weakly, looking vaguely ill.
“I’ve seen these three before,” I mutter to myself. “I know it. Hey, Mom? Catch.” I toss her my wallet.
Expertly, my mom slaps a slice of bread on a massively stacked sandwich and effortlessly snags my wallet out of the air like she’s a catcher for the White Sox.
She looks at it in her hand, and her eyes go red.
I’m about to go to her, but she waves me off, sniffing and urging me to get a move on. “Go pack!”
Inara, exiting the bedroom, heard my comment from a moment before with her crazy-good ears, and not only does she glance over at the trio I was muttering about, her nostrils flare, scenting them. And then her eyes widen. “You,” she says with some accusation as she drags her overstuffed bag in the direction of the front door.
One of her brothers stands from the sofa to help her, but I’m already to her and taking the handle.
Her head whips to me, and to my surprise, she doesn’t release her luggage.
“I’ve got it,” I tell her.
“No, no,” she insists—and she drops her eyes, biting her lip. “Go back to what you were doing.”
“Okaaay…” I narrow my gaze on her. But fine, whatever. If she insists on struggling with it, she’s got her reasons. I open my hand, letting her have her bag. Then I reach up to slide my hand into her hair strands, hold her fast, and tug her to me for a kiss.
And the travel bag—which is stuffed to the gills—busts open.
Clothes pop out of the massively split seam, which isn’t surprising.
But sticks and sticks of gum rain down from the newly blown opening. And this? This is surprising. So is the strong scent of coffee, which is suddenly wafting from the busted bag.
“What in the hell…” I ask, flummoxed.
Kids laugh behind us, my impressionable nephews and nieces.
“Matthew…” my mother warns from her matronly domain, the kitchen.
“Sorry, Ma. What in the heck.”
Inara is wincing, and she chances a glance up at me.
“You’ve been stealing my gum?” I ask.
She hunches a little. “It’s… hoarding.”
At her minute shrug, more gum spills out, slapping to the floor.
I’m shaking my head, lightly disbelieving. “Here I was, thinking I was going crazy. Because it was like all my gum was walking off before I could chew it.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “It’s a compulsion I wasn’t prepared for. It happens with males who are pining for more of their mate. I don’t know why I’ve been driven to—”
“What else of mine have you hocked?” I ask, snagging the handle from her and thunking the broken bag to the floor. I find the latch which isn’t a zipper or velcro, but some kind of alien fastener. It splits open when I run my finger over it, trying to figure it out.
When the overstuffed sides slam open, I find a couple pairs of my boxers, which had mysteriously gone missing. We’ve been having so much sex I’d just figured they’d gotten flung under the couch or something, and I hadn’t tried too hard to find them. After all, I had plenty in my drawer.
Turns out, I have plenty in here too. The clothes still contained in her bag, hers and mine, are wadded up strangely. And when I reach in, I find it’s because our clothes are wrapped around coffee mugs. Like a lot of coffee mugs.
I slow blink at the crazy woman I’m madly in love with. “Geezus H. Pete, did you clean out the cupboard?” I ask.
“I took them from the sink,” she admits. “Before they could be washed, because I wanted to keep the touch of your lips on them intact.”
“Awww,” the woman named Callie says, standing off to the side of us. She’s holding her son, and her mate stands at her back, his thickly muscled arms cradling both her and his son. And I gotta say this about Inara’s family: they know how to treat women.
I like it a lot.
I catch Inara by her nape and pull her close, giving us as much privacy as we can have in my overfull apartment. “Woman…”
“Are you mad?” she whispers, eyes worried.
“No,” I tell her, planting a kiss on her lips. “I love you even if you’re crazy.”
She smiles at me. “Is it because of that thing I can do with my tongue?”
“That goes a long way,” I agree, enjoying the naughty private smile that stretches her lips.
Tahmoh, on the floor with his wife and baby perched in his lap, groans, sounding ill. “Stop.” He thunks his head lightly against his woman’s back, making her smile and twist to pat him sympathetically. His head still against her, he asks, “Are we reaching the end of packing your things?”
I pull back from his sister, although I keep my hand around the back of her neck. “I’m about done.” I look to Inara. “You want to smuggle anything else?”
“Yes,” she says. “But I can’t fit it all.”
I shake my head at her. “Sweethearts, you’re a nut.”
“But I’m yours,” she returns, sending me a flirty, proud look that, if we were alone, would have her bent over the couch with me on top of her.
But we’re not alone. My mom orders the camera guy’s group, “You three come over here and grab some food.”
The man immediately gets to his feet, looking back almost helplessly at his companions as he starts dutifully marching for my kitchen island, where my mom has a huge spread of food.
“Poor Jonoh,” the girl in the headset laments, quickly rising up to follow him with a grimacing sort of smile.
Jonoh. Jonoh...
I snap my fingers, making all the alien ears in the room shoot straight up, except for Zadeon’s. He looks around at the others and then back at me.
I point to the camera guy. “I knew I’d fuckin’—”
“MATTHEW,” my mother calls sharply enough to make me flinch.
“Sorry, Ma—freaking seen you three before,” I finish. “It was the craft store.” I look to the women with him, who have moved to stand between him and me like he needs their protection, even though he towers over them both by a good foot and a half. “You two were being all weird when you left this guy and went into the bathroom. What was that about?” I turn to Inara. “And why were you getting mad at him earlier?”
“That’s a hob,” she says to me. “The same one I scented when we were craft shopping.”