Page 102 of Lucky Laces
Diana
“I’m notsure this is the smartest idea,” I murmur as Hudson leads me through the doors of Chrissy Dawson nee Dubois’s adoption center.
The space is lit up and full of people.
People from the team, people I don’t know.
People who might talk.
People who mightjudge.
People, I think as I spot Jean-Michel, who may fire my ass.
I was going to talk to him tomorrow.
I had a whole plan.
But then I went home and Huddy showed up on my doorstep and the next thing I knew, he was talking me into attending tonight.
“It’s for the pussies,” he says and considering my mind was on exactly how the man had convinced me to give up my free evening—and how quickly he got his mouth on mine and his fingers in my pants and my body shuddering with pleasure to do that convincing—it takes me a minute to process his words.
Then I do.
And I choke.“For wh-what?”
He grins and tugs me into his side, lips coming to my ear in that way I love so fucking much.Brushing my skin, making me shiver, my body melting against his.“For the pussies,” he teases, nipping lightly at the spot behind my ear.“We have to make sure they all go to good homes.”
I push at his chest, pulling my head out of reach, and narrow my eyes at him.“You think you’re funny?”
His lips twitch.“Well…yeah.But also”—he tilts his head as I spot the duo coming in through the doors behind us—“I know that you’d want to be here to witness that.”
It shouldn’t be hilarious.
But it is.
And a mix of adorable and sweet and…lots andlotsof pink.
Like the shirt big, strong, and scowly Rhodes is sporting as he walks into the adoption center beside his daughter, her hand wrapped tightly in his.
I choke again, but this time it’s on laughter.“Do I want to know?”
“Do you need to know anything except that Chloe wants a cat and Rhodes would do anything for his daughter?”he asks softly.
My throat goes tight and my eyes sting.
Because I lost that with my parents.
Because I had that with Grams.
And because Huddy didn’t have that with his momordad.
I feel my body stiffen.
“Fuck,” he says, wrapping his hand around my wrist and drawing me away from the doors, from the wall of plate glass windows that lead to the adoption floor, not stopping until we’re in a quiet corridor that leads to nothing except a door marked with a little sign proclaiming Staff Only.
“What is it?”I ask.
“You tell me,” he counters.
