Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(127)

Mesmerized, as usual, I didn’t notice she’d unbuckled my pants until they were already undone. She reached inside, stroking me through my boxer briefs, sending my heart racing and white-hot heat straight to the base of my spine.

Jesus. I loved my wife.

I sucked in a breath and grabbed her waist, holding on for balance, loving the feel of her bare skin.

Charlotte’s shoulders lifted, her palm hot friction against my cock, making me wild. “I don’t like being told I’m bad at something—like keeping secrets.” She nipped at my bottom lip, her voice barely a whisper. “But I trust that you had a good reason for not telling me.”

Staring down at my beautiful wife, who’d just spent several hours having her makeup and hair done, I fought the desire to mess it all up. She looked gorgeous like this, but she looked unbelievably stunning when she was hot and flushed, her lipstick smeared, hair tumbling over her shoulders and breasts in chaotic disarray.

“Where can I touch you?” Stepping between her legs, I encouraged her to sit back on the table and spread her legs so I could hook my thumb into the lace covering her. “Can I kiss you?”

She shook her head, smiling, looking like the meanest tease. “Not on my lips.”

Pushing two fingers inside and pumping roughly—just the way she liked—I watched with satisfaction as her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted with a silent gasp.

Bending forward and caging her in, I placed a gentle kiss on her neck, then whispered in her ear, “Can I fuck you, angel? Would you like that?”

Her exhale was shaky and her hand faltered where she stroked me, but I felt her head nod just before she said, “Yes.”

My hand stilled. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please, Hank!” she whimpered.

I grinned.

Good enough for me.





By some miracle of modern makeup and hairspray science, Charlotte looked perfectly put together when we emerged from the bedroom forty-three minutes later. In fact, we both did.

Relaxed and in an exceptionally good mood, I almost forget to be nervous until Charlotte reminded me we’d be swinging by Sonya’s hotel room for a few pictures before we escorted her to the church. My heart tripped, rising then falling, and suddenly I couldn’t inhale deeply enough. This was it.

In less than an hour, I’d be expected to walk her down aisle and leave her in the care of someone else.

Nope. Don’t like that.

Numbly, I entered Sonya’s room behind Charlotte, tangentially aware of the women’s squeals and sighs of delight.

“Momma, you’ve already seen me in this dress when we picked it out,” Sonya said, giving her mother a patient look.

“I know, I know.” Charlotte wiped at her eyes, her tone watery. “Goodness, I can’t cry. I’ll mess up my makeup,” she said, but then her face crumpled.

Still in a bit of a haze, I automatically withdrew my handkerchief and passed it to my wife, lifting my chin toward the bathroom. I didn’t trust my voice.

Though I didn’t have any makeup on to mess up, and though my eyes were currently dry, I somehow knew and accepted that the moment I opened my mouth, I was going to cry.

Sonya and I watched Charlotte walk to the bathroom, then my daughter turned back to me, a gentle smile on her mouth and behind her eyes.

“How’re you doing, Mr. Hank? You hanging in there?”

Even though she introduced me as her father, and when the kids were together she referred to me as Dad, when it was just the two of us, she still called me Mr. Hank.

I nodded, struggling to make my mouth curve. I finally forced it into some semblance of a smile.

“How do I look?” she asked, stepping back and glancing down at her dress.

Bracing, I allowed myself to take a look at her, this woman before me who I used to scoop up and carry around the house, who used to ride piggyback while I made dinner, who always asked me to do character voices for every book we read, who I’d fallen in love with from the very first moment I laid eyes on her.

Because I had. With Sonya, and Joshua, and Kimmy, and Frankie, it had been love at first sight. And with Tommy, too—the little shit. The very moment he’d emerged from Charlotte’s womb, kicking and screaming and throwing a fuss, I’d loved him just the same.

“So?” Sonya prompted, lifting her arms slightly away from her sides. “What do you think?”

I cleared my throat and managed to force out, “You look lovely, Sonya.”

She beamed at me and reached out her hand. I took it and tucked it in the crook of my elbow, covered it with my other hand, and wondered how I was supposed to let her go when the time came. It seemed impossible, unfathomable, incomprehensible.

I’d never let her go, I’d never let any of them go. They were mine, and I was keeping them. And I belong to them, whether they like it or not.

Surprising me out of my stubbornly determined thoughts, Sonya rested her temple on my shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Hank,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

Holding perfectly still, I asked, “For what?” my voice sandpaper.

“For walking me down the aisle today,” she said, squeezing my arm. “For being my dad.”

Ready for more of the good folks in Green Valley? Read on for a sneak peek of the next book in the Good Folk series, All Folked Up.