Page 24 of A Cowboy's Twinkling Lights Lasso
I try to make a quick exit, beelining toward my bedroom door, but my drunken Aunt Rita grabs my arm and shakes her head. “Shhh.”
The cowboy kicks the door shut with his boot like he’s done this a bazillion times, balancing my aunt and moving his mouth over her bursting cleavage.
I open my mouth to object. Discussing and witnessing my aunt cheat on my uncle are two entirely different things. My Aunt Rita presses a finger against my mouth and shakes her head. No sooner do we have a silent back-and-forth argument, and that grunting cowboy carried my aunt to their room and slammed the door shut behind them.
“It’s easier not to get in the way.” My aunt drops her finger and finishes filling her purse with wine.
“Wait, was that my cowboy?” My sister stands in our doorway, and I see her undergarments through the lace dress.
“What are you talking about?”
She jumps in the spot and points at our aunt’s bedroom door. “Flora, that was my lipstick-wearing candy cane cowboy!” She belts a laugh, and it takes me a second to put it all together. Then I buckle over in laughter with her.
“I don’t understand.” My Aunt Rita continues filling her bag with social lubricant.
“Oh yes, baby, do it hard!” At my Aunt Peggy-Ann’s request, a loud thud strikes the door, and we jump.
Dani stops mid-laugh. “Wait. Ew.” Her nose wrinkles. “Gross.”
The door continues to bang, at what I’m guessing is thrust after thrust after thrust—and like my sister said, ew, gross.
I hold up my hands. “I understand we are all adults here, but this isn’t a desire den—”
“Oh, I like that name,” my sister cuts me off.
“It’s a keeper,” my aunt adds.
I groan. “Y’all aren’t knocking boots in these rooms for the entire weekend. I am working, and I need a nice normalatmosphere to watch sweet romantic Christmas movies and snack on cookies without—”
“Pull my hair!”
I point at the door. “Without this.”
The thud against the door grows louder, as do my aunt’s screams of bliss.
With a firm twist, my Aunt Rita tightens the lid of the compartment embedded inside her purse and slings it over her shoulder. “Are you staying to enjoy this little desire den in action?”
“Love it,” my sister says to our aunt.
I glare at both of them and gulp down the second glass.
“That’s my girl. Hurry up and get changed.” Aunt Rita swats my rear end as I walk away.
“I’m not going to dinner, though.”
“That’s fine. We’ll hit The Lodge Lounge for some sister quality time, and I have the perfect dress for you.” She also slaps my ass as she rushes by to grab me a dress from her clothing mountain.
It’s no wonder I’m a hot mess. The good news is, I’m sure I’ve chased Thorn Slater out of the lodge with his tail between his legs.
Chapter Seven
THORN
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THE HOT WATER stings the scrapes etched down my chest.
Bloody hell.
