Chapter Twenty-Six
The cuddling that followed could’ve easily led to another round of fantastic loving if Trixie’s cell phone hadn’t buzzed with a lousy interruption. Stumbling from the bed, she caught a solid slap on the ass from Mitch before she retrieved her purse and dug for the annoying device.
“It’s Vicky McKay,” she announced, snatching Brock’s shirt from the floor. She left a roar of moans in her wake as she made her way to the bathroom.
“Hi, Vicky.” She clicked the speaker option and set the phone on the vanity. “What’s up?”
“Just checking on my other goddaughter,” Vicky replied. “I haven’t talked to you in a while. Joshua said you’re out of town. Where are you?”
“It’s classified,” Trixie teased, grabbing a washcloth and towel from the linen closet.
“Ooh, sounds exotic.” Vicky giggled. “Anything exciting happening?”
“Let’s just say if you’d called three minutes earlier, you would’ve gotten my voicemail.”
“My timing sucks,” she teased. “So things are good?”
“Yes, Vicky,” Trixie replied, turning on the water. “We’re perfect. How’s everything back in Fletcher? Is anything wrong?”
“Am I on speaker?”
“Yes, why?”
“Finish cleaning yourself up and call me back. I need to tell you something.”
“Hang on,” Trixie said, scrubbing the washcloth with soap.
“You know, you can call me back if this is a little uncomfortable talking to me while washing your dicktrapper.”
“You did not just say that to me.” Trixie reached between her legs and washed.
“It is what it is. You’re a grown woman and have two men in your bed. I don’t have to carefully tiptoe around juicy topics.”
Trixie tossed the washcloth in the basket. “Really, Vicky. You can be so crude sometimes. Would you be this blunt with Patience?”
“Always,” she replied. “Get me off speaker.”
Trixie hit the button and held the phone to her ear. “You’re all clear.”
Brock entered the bathroom. “Is something wrong?”
“Sure I am,” Vicky said. “Is that Brock in the background?”
“It is,” Trixie replied, shooting him a smile. “Everything is fine. I’ll be back to bed in a minute.”
“We have to take care of something on the hill,” Brock told her. “Will you be all right?”
“Hang on, Vicky,” Trixie said, turning her complete attention to Brock. “If I’m not here, I’ll be at the stables.”
“I’d rather you stay here,” Brock said. “We’re headed to the barn to talk to Cash.”
“I’ll wait here then,” she conceded, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t do that, sub.” Brock kissed her cheek. “I want to know you’re paying attention to me.”
“I hang on your every word, Sir,” she drawled, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Tell Vicky I said hi.” Brock gave her a heated appraisal. “Oh and uh, you were sensational.”
“Shh,” Trixie hissed.
He winked and closed the door behind him.
“Brock said hello.”
“I heard him,” Vicky snapped. “And I also heard the words ‘Sir’ and ‘sub.’ Is there something going on I don’t know about?”
Trixie fumbled with the phone and wiggled her way into Brock’s shirt. “You might say that. Then again, it’s one of those private topics that’s really none of your business.”
“Such a funny girl. Tell your Aunt Vicky what you’re up to.”
Vicky called herself out as a relative whenever she wanted to step into a parental-type role. She hadn’t tossed that card out in quite some time.
Trixie dampened her thumb and ran the pad under her eyes, swiping away the black mascara. “Actually, I’d like to talk to you about a few things. But first, you spill. Why’d you call?”
“Have you talked to Ansley?”
“No.”
“Mitch was here looking for you.”
“He already found me.”
“Well then, I guess it’s your turn already. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
Trixie left the bathroom and entered the deserted apartment. She already missed the guys. It was too quiet without them around. Even with world’s fastest locomotive-mouth on the line, she found it eerily lonesome.
“Will you tell Mom about this discussion?”
“Probably,” Vicky replied. “If I promise not to tell and mean it, I’m telling you the truth at the time, but you know me. I don’t keep anything from Peyton and it could slip.”