BULL

THANKSGIVING DAY

“Fuck, I’m stuffed,” I brag, cunningly unbuttoning the button on my jeans so that I have more room to breathe.

“Did I tell you how much I appreciate your help this morning?” Dot asks, leaning in close so I can hear her over the little ones who are clamoring for more dessert.

“Babe, the blowjob was thanks enough,” I lewdly reply, smirking at her when she lets out a shriek then looks around to see if anyone overheard me. “No one heard me, Dot, I wouldn’t embarrass you like that.”

“Good, because I’d hate for that to be the last one I give,” she sasses. “Now, about dessert, what would you like? I’ll fill up a plate otherwise.”

“Kind of like the idea of having a plate to choose from, sweetness.”

“I tried a new recipe that I had come across before we came into hiding,” she tells me.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“It’s a twist on pumpkin pie. The ladies overbought and had enough pumpkin left over for me to test it out. It’s tortilla shells that I dipped in sugar and cinnamon, then after frying them into taco shells, I put the pumpkin mix inside of them, and topped it off with melted marshmallows.”

“Get two of those, Polka. Maybe three, because two of them are for me,” I state. “Looks like we’re going to have to exercise tonight. You up for it?”

“That should be my question to you, handsome,” she slyly retorts. The way she’s biting her lower lip tells me she’s onboard with my plans for tonight, once we get everything put away and depart to home.

“I’ve also been suffering from a massive sweet tooth and have been craving chocolate. Would you mind cutting me off a large piece of that mousse pie that I saw when we carried the desserts out, please?” I plead, sticking out my bottom lip.

She leans in and kisses me before heading to the dessert table. My focus is on her swaying hips, so I totally miss the fact Pops has sat down next to me until he smacks the back of my head. “Good way to get yourself killed, not paying attention,” he spits out.

“Pops, if someone’s gonna kill me down here, I’m totally fucked, don’t you think? I knew you were there, but my old lady is a pretty picture walking away. I mean, look at that ass… or don’t. Yeah, don’t, I might get murderous if you check her out.”

“Happy for you, Bull,” Pops intones, tossing me a mirthful smirk from my last comment. “Now, I’ve been going around and talking to each of you boys when the women step away. It’s gonna be awhile before you can leave so I need to know everything you and your woman like in order to restock the stores.”

“We gonna be here for Christmas?” I ask, already dreading having to tell Dot because she loves holidays based on what I saw at her house that day.

“Most likely. Gotta make sure the threat is eradicated.”

I internally sigh, because we’ve been trying to rid ourselves of the Crumley brothers going on years now. They’re three of the slimiest fuckers who swim their way through the bowels of hell. Every time we think we’ve got them, they slither away undetected and we’re back at square one.

I’m about to respond when he suddenly smiles and says, “Dottie, I must commend you as part of the team of wonderful chefs for today’s meal. Truly some of the best food I’ve ever enjoyed. Let me leave you with your man because I see he’s about to put a hurting on those desserts.”

I was so in tune with Pops and my thoughts, that I didn’t hear Dot come back from grabbing us a plethora of sweet treats. “Thanks, baby,” I say when she hands me the plate that’s sagging from the weight. “It all smells phenomenal.”

“I can’t take all of the credit, Bull. And thank you, Pops, that’s a wonderful compliment coming from the family patriarch.”

“Well,” Pops states after standing and looking at my dessert plate, “that’s too tempting to resist, I’ve gotta go try me some of that taco creation. What is it?” I explain it exactly as Dot did to me earlier and Pops’ eyes widen with every ingredient spoken.

“Ah, fuck, guess I’ll be telling Luca to let our personal trainer know we’re gonna need him for half an hour longer if we’re gonna survive the cooking you ladies create.”

Dot starts giggling then softly says, “But, Pops, you don’t have to eat it.”

His face sobers but he’s still kind when he replies, “Ever since Ma passed, my home-cooked meal days are over. Yes, I have a cook but it’s not the same because unlike what Ma made and what you have prepared today, there’s no love added into the mix.”

“Pops,” Dot says his name with a slight sob attached to the word. “You are always welcome to share a meal at our place. Our door will always be open to you and a plate will always be set at our table in case you need some food cooked with love.”

“Be careful, Bull, I may steal your woman out from under you,” Pops tells me, causing me to growl. At his raised brow, I shrug because he was in the life and knows how it works, especially now that Dottie is claimed.

By me.

He lost his chance.

“Hold her tight, boyo, because she’s a keeper and any man with half a brain cell would happily swoop in and steal her out from under you,” Pops advises. His facial expression clearly states that he’ll be the first one in the line if I don’t watch my Ps and Qs.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Pops. I’m never gonna let her go and I’ll fight any man who ever tries,” I challenge. It may not be an out and out threat, but my meaning is more than clear. I dare him or any man to try.