Picture night happened once but if he was not dragging their asses to restaurants, the women in his house could yammer and they did, sitting around the kitchen or on the deck furniture, Lexie sipping beer, her girls sucking back cocktails and, as with the pictures, they did it for hours. He tried to make a point by sitting in front of a game but not only Lexie but all of them would call out his name or come to the door to the deck, tell him a story, share a joke, tell him what one of them had just said. He didn’t have any desire to be in their hen huddle but he couldn’t say the four of them weren’t f**king funny, they were. Every last one. Including Honey. And the sound of their jabbering and laughter, he had to admit, was far from annoying.

Deep in the second week, Tuku’s framed pen and ink had been delivered. This night included him and Bessie holding the frame up in various places in the living room while Ella, Honey and Lexie studied it, fingers to faces, heads tipped to the side, uncertain and directing them to move it somewhere else. Walker tired of this about five seconds in, knowing exactly where he wanted it. Bessie tired of it ten seconds later and started throwing sass. She put up with about fifteen minutes more then announced, “Ya’ll got two seconds to make up your minds, you don’t, I carry this motherfucker to the deck and throw it over the side.”

At that point, Walker’s patience and politeness ran out, he took over and he had the frame mounted over the sofa opposite the fireplace within ten minutes. Bessie approved. Ella and Lexie shared grins. Honey declared she thought it looked better over the fireplace.

On his Thursdays off, when Lexie had to work, he was pressed into sightseeing duties. Hauling those bitches to the Colorado National Monument the first Thursday, Lexie telling them they simply could not return to Texas without seeing it. But when he took them, they liked the look of it and they did drag their asses out of the Cruiser to clatter on their platform heels to a location where he could take their picture with part of the Monument in the background. But then they clattered right back. No hiking trail for them, no closer look. Fuck, he wasn’t certain Honey could even spell “hiking trail”. Then, with uncanny senses, they located a sushi restaurant in Grand Junction like they could sniff the f**ker out, dragged him there and then spent a whole f**king hour in Enstrom buying enough toffee and chocolate to supply most of Dallas.

His second Thursday, yesterday, was worse because he took them to Aspen. There was shopping in Aspen. This was not good, it was not fun and as hilarious as those bitches could be, he did not find anything about that day funny.

When he told Lexie about it in bed last night, she’d again laughed herself sick.

He had to say, he loved his wife’s laugh, he loved hearing it but at that time, Walker didn’t even crack a smile because he found not one second of his day funny.

He should have known considering Ella got a wild hair on the previous Sunday, announcing that she had to give them a wedding gift. He’d tried to refuse attendance at this event and all four of them had leaned on him. He couldn’t bear up, not under Lexie’s pleading so he’d caved and gone. He shouldn’t have. For some reason, Lex was in ecstasy (though she repeated over and over, “You shouldn’t. We couldn’t accept,” then she did) when Ella bought them a KitchenAid mixer. Again, the two remaining sisters went straight into one-upping their mother. This led to Bessie buying them two bags of kitchen shit, more than half of it he didn’t even know what the f**k it was and the half of it he did know what it was consisted mostly of bowls and spoons. He didn’t think a kitchen needed that many bowls and spoons but, regardless, now they had them. Then they dragged him from the mall into Carnal where Honey added what Lexie called a “crock” to their gray pottery collection as well as a trio of tall candlesticks Lexie arranged on the hearth. He got it when the crock was set on the kitchen counter and filled with her spoons.

It all looked good.

He still didn’t have to be there during their purchases.

Even though most of this was a pain in his ass, some of it a serious pain in his ass, he’d be lying if he said on a certain level he didn’t enjoy it. And that level was partly about watching his wife with her family, knowing she was happy, watching her spend time with people she loved. But it was also about getting it, why she was loyal to them, why she cared so much about them. Never in his life had he experienced family like that and it took some time but even from the first they accepted him then they softened towards him then they sucked him in. They were why Lexie was who she was, open, affectionate, touchy, honest, funny and, the longer he was with them, the more of that they treated him to.

And he liked it.

But he also liked that they trailed him and his wife downstairs to the Viper that morning when he was on his way to work in order to give him hugs. Then they wandered to the end of the garage to wave him sleepily away because in an hour they were going to climb into their rental truck and haul their asses home.

And he liked it because he wanted his wife back, selfish but he didn’t give a f**k.

And he also wanted unlimited and unencumbered access to his wife’s body back.

The stairs led directly to their room, no door. And seeing as this was the case, Lexie wasn’t comfortable ha**ng s*x in their bedroom, telling him she was worried they’d hear. This limited them to the shower which meant that Ty decreed she’d have two, every day, just like him.

But after two very f**king long weeks, he’d used up his shower creativity and he was done with limits.

And he knew Lexie loved her family but last night, he’d learned she was done too. He’d learned this when he firmly led her to the shower and she’d firmly pulled her hand out of his and walked to the tub. Then she’d filled it. Then she’d led him to it.

He couldn’t remember if he’d taken a bath since he was a kid.

He would be taking them in the future.

And his gait quickened because tonight he could f**k his wife in their bed, on the couch, on the f**king stairs if he had a mind to.

And he had a mind to do all three.

So it was time to get his ass home.

He walked out the doors to the gym which was in Chantelle. It was a haul but it was also a boxer’s gym, which meant limited use by women and the women who used it were boxers and there to train, not preen, show off their outfits or find a man who cared about his body who would get them off. He’d heard word there was a gym in Carnal with a personal trainer who could kick ass. He had not tried this because the man’s boot camps were co-ed.