And I liked it that Hop liked it.
Another revelation was Hop and his kids eating my cooking. The kids just liked it, were polite enough to say so, but their enthusiasm while eating said it better.
For Hop, if there was a test to pass with him, the way he ate my food, I knew I’d passed it. But it was the way he looked at me after he took his third bite, the expression on his face taking all of my attention, his lips muttering, “Good food, babe,” that I knew it was less a compliment and more a revelation about me that he liked.
A whole lot.
And I liked that too.
Because of the kids, we didn’t get to make out when they left. We did get to have phone sex later because of Hop.
He called late. I answered on the first ring.
He opened with, “Not gonna push, lady. Not a good time to share over the phone and I want you to share when you’re ready to do it, but just wanna know, you good?”
I liked knowing he wasn’t going to push but still wanted to make sure I was okay.
“I’m good and, thanks for coming to my rescue and giving me a good day so it would take my mind off things.”
“One way or another, babe, got your back,” he replied, then he moved us out of the heavy and into the fantastic when he told me to cup my breast.
He gave me an orgasm and then gave me a warning before he rang off. “Now you owe me again. Tomorrow night, lady.”
This meant I went to sleep relaxed, happy, and looking forward to the next day.
I woke up refreshed.
After a weekend with my parents that included a blowout with my dad, this was a miracle.
And I owed it all to Hopper Kincaid.
Therefore, letting him in further, I called him that day at work.
He answered in one ring. “Lady.”
“Hey. Things good?” I asked.
“Kids are gone, which is not good. Took ’em to school so they’ll do the switchover without me havin’ to see their mom, which is good. And got plans with my woman tonight and that’s definitely good.”
This was an excellent answer.
I didn’t tell him that. I told him, “I need to know the dress code tonight.”
“The dress code is, you wear what you want. You work anything you put on,” he told me.
This was also an excellent answer.
“But, if you gotta plan,” he went on, “we’re goin’ to a bar to watch a band and they probably don’t have martini glasses.”
I smiled into the phone and confirmed, “Message relayed.” Then I asked, “A band?”
“My buddy’s the lead singer, lead guitarist of a band. Been at it for decades. They’re good. He and me’ll connect during their breaks. You and me’ll connect before they play and after we get home.”
Now that was an excellent answer.
Therefore, I gave him my understatement. “Sounds fun, honey.”
“The first part will be fun. The second part will be wow.”
I remembered Hop’s brand of “wow”.
Definitely something to look forward to.
I was smiling into the phone again when I said, “Gotta get back to work.”
“Pick you up at seven,” he replied.
“See you then, Hop.”
“Later, baby.”
“Later, honey.”
We disconnected and I smiled through the day. I did this even with the knowing looks I got from my staff. I also miraculously did this even after calling my sister to give her the lowdown of the weekend.
Elissa was ticked because it happened, livid at what Dad said to me, but happy I finally found the backbone to lay down the law.
“Now stick to it, Lanie,” she advised. “The thing that business with Elliott should have taught you is not what Dad says it should have taught you, but that life is way too short to put up with dysfunction like that. If Dad didn’t get the wakeup call from that whole scene then there’s nothing more you can do. Now, I know you have to work but I want sister time, ironclad, in your calendar, at least an hour so you can tell me all about this Hopper Kincaid guy. And you’ve got forty-eight hours to fit me into your schedule, girl. If you don’t, I’m flying to Denver and I’ll find out about this guy myself. It isn’t like the Chaos MC and Ride Custom Bikes and Cars are located in secret bunkers so don’t force me to do anything dramatic.”
Obviously, I’d had to tell my sister about Hop to give her the whole scoop about Dad. Also obviously, the drama gene had been inherited from Mom by both of us.
“I’ll call you tomorrow at lunch,” I assured her.
“Holding you to that,” she returned. “Now, you get back to work.”
We rang off and I got back to work. I knew she got back to work, too, but this consisted of doing laundry, cleaning house, doing school runs and cooking for a family of four, thus she was probably a lot busier than I was.