When she’d mentioned wanting to visit Molly as soon as possible, she hadn’t meant this.

After heading back to the house to say goodbye to Gray’s mother—who had seemed unnaturally misty-eyed, which might have been a byproduct of the ultrasound appointment or just that day’s smog activity—and to pack a couple of bags, they were on the road again to San Jose. About an hour into the trip, Jazz came to two conclusions.

They hadn’t called Molly to ascertain she was willing to see them so soon. Or hell, that she would even be home.

And she was hungry. Seriously freaking hungry.

The second issue was solved with a quick detour through the drive-thru, though she was guilted into getting a salad with her chocolate shake. Not that she cared. Even wilted lettuce under fat free dressing tasted absolutely glorious.

The first issue involved a phone call that had Jazz’s now sated belly crawling with nerves as the phone rang.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

Jazz inhaled sharply at the sound of the girl’s rich, alto voice, causing Gray to look her way in obvious alarm. She waved him off. “Hello, Molly? Is this Molly?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“It’s Jazz.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, Mine.”

“Mine?” Molly repeated, as if the word didn’t quite make sense. Because it didn’t. What kind of nickname was Mine? But then Molly laughed, and Jazz relaxed in her seat. “Oh wow, Mine. I just remembered that. I used to call you Mine.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Wow.”

Silence hummed over the line and Jazz bit her lip, wondering what to say next. “Um, I got your letter. We’re on our way to come see you. If that’s okay.”

“Really? Like now?”

“Yes. We’re a few hours away.”

“Oh shit. I mean, yeah, that’s great. I just—I need to clean up. Like a lot. Um, can you call before you get here?”

“That’s what this is.” Jazz laughed weakly. “I’m calling ahead to let you know we’re on the way.”

“Oh. Right. That’s cool. I mean, can you call when you’re about an hour away? I’m kind of busy right now but I want to make sure to shovel out the place before you arrive.”

“Where’s Mom? Can’t she help?”

“Nah, I’m good. Anyhoo, thanks for the heads up. See ya soon, sis. Bye!”

The phone went dead.

Jazz reached for her chocolate shake and took a quick drink to wet her dry throat. God, she was so nervous she was practically shaking. Molly was her sister. Her flesh and blood. She had absolutely no reason to be anxious. She could practically see the Oprah-style tearful family reunion unfolding now.

“Well? What did she say?”

Jazz wiped her mouth and stuck her now empty cup back into the holder. Why hadn’t she gotten a large? A small hadn’t been nearly enough. In fact, she wanted to keep drinking that cool chocolatey goodness until she floated away on—

“Jazz? Hello?”

“Sorry. She was perfectly polite. She seemed delighted we were on the way.”

Molly had said she was busy. That was probably why she wasn’t more excited. She had to ‘shovel out’ the place, and no one looked forward to cleaning.

“She was pleasant,” she added into the silence. “Very much so.”

“So you’ve said, several times. Which means to me that she wasn’t ‘delighted’ at all.”

“Don’t be a jerk. I’m still hungry, by the way.”

Unsurprisingly, he ignored her plaintive request for food. “What did she say?”

“Not much. She was busy. We should’ve given her more noticed or hell, even called to ask if she was ready for visitors. It was wrong to fucking assume.”

He lifted a brow. “Language there, Sailor Boy.”

It was her turn to ignore him. “I mean, it was probably presumptuous on our part. Just because she sent a letter and said she missed me and wanted to get to know me, that didn’t mean right away. Hey, there’s a chicken place. Let’s go there.”

“If we get off the freeway again, we’re going to get stuck in rush hour traffic.”

“Okay. Do you think they have bourbon chicken?” Jazz gazed longingly out the window at the passing billboard. “The baby wants chicken. It’s not me.”

“Right.” He leaned forward and opened the glove box, then tossed an ancient granola bar in her lap. “Eat that. I’m not getting off the freeway again unless you want to turn around and go home.”

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

“Jazz. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” She sighed and tore at the wrapper of the granola bar she had zippo interest in. “This doesn’t feel like an Oprah reunion, and I kind of had my heart set on one.” She bit into her snack and nearly broke a tooth, but she kept eating it anyway because at least it contained crusty chocolate chips. “Harper’s right. I’m an idiot.”

He frowned. “Harper calls you an idiot? I thought she was your best friend.”

“She is. And she doesn’t say that exact word, but I am. She thinks I’m too soft. Basically a runny egg who never buys a clue.”

“Yeah, I’m not following this conversation at all.” He grabbed his iPhone and flipped it to a metal track, turning it up until she could barely think.

She hit the off button. “Sorry. I’m not in the mood for music. You know what I am in the mood for, though?”

“Let me guess. Chicken?”

“Yes.”

“Talk to me.” He slid his arm along the back of her seat to play with the ends of her ponytails. She’d tied one off on both sides of her head in deference to the climbing heat that didn’t seem to be alleviated by the rattling A/C. Or else her internal thermometer was off.

Maybe it was hunger sweats, caused by too much salad and not enough red meat.

“I am talking to you.”

“She didn’t seem happy we were coming, did she?”

She forced herself to stare straight ahead, because if she met his gaze, she would probably crumble. And she was frigging sick and tired of being a hormonal mess. “There is no we in this case. The one she didn’t seem all that thrilled to see is me.”

“I bet she was just surprised is all. She probably figured she’d get a letter in return, not a visit. At least not right away.”

“I’m sure you’re right. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

“What happens if it’s not?” he asked, so softly that she almost couldn’t make out what he said over the hum of the air conditioner.

“Then I go through the same sense of loss all over again,” she answered, just as softly. Knowing he could hear her even when she didn’t have the breath left to raise her voice. “I’m back there walking away from the only family I’ve ever known, not knowing when I’ll ever see them again. Rewriting the end isn’t possible. This is just…it.”

“You have another family now.”

“I know.” She reached up to hold his hand against her shoulder, turning her cheek into the familiar comfort he always gave her, no matter what. “That’s why I’m strong enough to see this through. Why I’m not screaming for you to turn the car around in case this is just going to make things worse.”

“How could it be worse?”

“Oh, it could be.” She let out a brittle laugh. “If I don’t go see her, I can pretend that she’s still a little girl who isn’t old enough to decide she wants me in her life.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment, splitting his gaze between her and the road. His brow was marred with lines, a sure sign he was concerned. “We don’t have to go to her place if you don’t want to. I’ll just keep driving until we get to San Francisco.”

She didn’t have to ask him if he was serious. He would do it, if she asked him to. He’d just keep driving forever if it would make her happy.

“What’s in San Francisco?”

He flashed her a distracted smile. “A chance to rewrite history.”

“Hmm. Very mysterious.” She leaned across the console to kiss his jaw. “Just so you know, I’d be down with a Motel Six. Turns out the second trimester is when a chick gets really horny. Just FYI.”

“Gets really horny? Did I miss the time when you weren’t horny?” He laughed as she pushed his arm. “Not that I have a problem with this. Not one bit.”

“Watch it or I’ll go back to whining for chicken.”

“You want chicken more than my dick?”

“Depends what kind of dressing is on it. And what kind of sides. If we’re talking buttery corn on the cob or some creamy coleslaw—” She laughed as he covered her mouth with his hand, but she didn’t let up. “Maybe a biscuit. I could even go for some green beans…” Playfully, she nipped his palm.

“I love that sound,” he said, dropping his hand to her thigh. He rubbed it while he switched lanes, his attention now firmly back on the road.

She had to stop distracting him with talk of chicken and sex. Either topic made her entirely too excitable.

“What sound?”

“You, laughing. You don’t do it nearly enough.”

“Sure I do. I laughed this morning when I saw the kid had a twig and two berries.” She grinned. “It was pretty funny to see your jaw hit the ground.”

“Yeah, yeah. Watch it, Edwards.”

“You won’t be able to call me that once my last name is Duffy.” When that would happen, she wasn’t exactly sure. They hadn’t firmed up wedding plans yet, because they were waiting to see how the album release went and the booking for the tour. Their schedule over the next few months was so packed that even a short honeymoon would be hard to pull off.

“That might be happening sooner than you think.”

“Huh?” She frowned, jarring herself out of hazy daydreams of wedding dresses and seven-layer cakes. Truthfully, the seven-layer cake appealed to her more than getting all done up just to prance down the aisle like a polo pony, but she wasn’t about to eschew tradition.

“Nothing.” He yawned, but she had the strangest feeling that he was faking it. Who fake-yawned? And why? “I’m exhausted, since someone didn’t let me get any sleep last night.” He flashed her a sexy grin. “I think you should sing to me to keep me awake.”

“Dream on, rockstar. But if you ease your seat back a bit, I have an idea for another way I could keep you awake.”

Shooting her a look, he slowed down for a fraction of a second and did as she asked. “Do tell.”

“I was always a show kind of girl.” She undid her seatbelt and edged closer to flip open the button of his jeans.

“You do realize that this is against vehicular law. You’re not wearing your seatbelt. And crawling—oh sweet fuck. I’m supposed to be responsible.”

She freed him from his jeans and boxers, grinning to herself over that silly this way to Oblivion tattoo that he’d gotten while high last winter, and rubbed her thumb over the rounded tip. He wasn’t hard yet but she knew just what to do to get him there fast.

“No, you’re supposed to keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel. Let me take care of this.” She gripped him in one hand and slicked her tongue up the side, turning her head so she could look up at his strong profile, highlighted by the sun streaming through the windows. He flicked her a glance, his jaw going tight under the beginnings of his five o’clock shadow. “It’s my job, and I’m damn good at it.”

“Your job is to suck me off?”

“Mmm-hmm. Among others. And right now, yours is to sit there and take it without letting anyone know what I’m doing.” She twisted her neck and eyed the steering wheel. “Can that thing be raised any higher?”

He played with the levers and gave her a triumphant grin. “We’re in luck. It was stuck in the middle position.”

Not so much luck. It gave her little room to work, but she was small…and persistent.

“You’re definitely getting lucky,” she agreed, slipping back to grab her purse.

The dejection that flashed across his face was priceless. “Then why’d you go back over there?”

“Patience, my sweet.” She pried open the mint case in her purse and slipped one in her mouth before resuming her position. “Go faster. I like it when you speed.”

“I’m already doing the speed limit. I will not go—Jesus,” he hissed as her cool lips slid over the tip of his cock. She pressed the mint against the head, swirling it around to add that extra bit of sensation before she wiggled closer and took him deeper.

The car sped up, just as requested.

She sucked harder, using the nails on her free hand to tease his balls. She shifted onto her knees, flattening her torso to wriggle into better position. In a couple months she wouldn’t be able to do this.

Hell, if she’d had that burger with lunch, she probably wouldn’t be able to do this. Her shorts already felt suspiciously snug.

She slid her lips up and down his shaft, both hands working, drawing him slightly to the side so she didn’t get her head stuck under the wheel. That thought made her swallow a giggle and the sound rippled over his length, causing him to remove one hand from the wheel to fist it in her hair.

“Sorry.” He sounded choked. Completely breathless. “Can’t stop.”

Her only response was another guttural noise in her throat as she cupped his balls tighter, rolling the underside of her engagement ring over the sensitive flesh to increase the friction. Some men might not’ve enjoyed that kind of play, but Gray sure did. His fingers weaved through her hair, pulling on her scalp as he forced her subtly down on his dick. Her clit pulsed at show of dominance and she squirmed, pressing her thighs together.

“You’re getting wet for me,” he breathed.

She pulled back long enough to roll her tongue over the pearly drop of fluid she’d earned on the head of his cock. “So wet. I’m going to have to change my shorts before we get there.”

“Christ. I’m going to make a fucking mess if you keep talking like that.”

“That’s what my mouth is for.”

Lightly, he drummed his fist on the wheel. “Fuck. I can’t focus on the road.”

“Yes, you can. And stop swearing or I stop blowing your mind.” At his low curse, she drew him back inside, taking him in until the quick burn of tears blurred her eyes. She pushed on, relaxing her throat, hollowing her cheeks. Caressing his balls with one hand, she hummed softly, unintentionally picking up the beat to “Sugar Kiss.” His hips rolled up to meet her, taking her past her comfort zone to where there was only him. He slammed on the brakes, swore, and she didn’t move. Just kept sucking for all she was worth.

He would never let her be hurt. Never risk her or the baby for a moment. And right now she was about to prove her appreciation.

She squeezed her hand around the base of his shaft, adding the scrape of nails that always shoved him close to the point of oblivion. Then she pulled him to the side again away from the wheel and drew her head up, letting the trails of his desire cling to her lips before she smoothed them back down his cock. Slowly engulfing him again and again while he swelled and throbbed in her mouth.

“I have to come,” he rasped, and she couldn’t nod fast enough. She wanted him on her tongue, in her throat.

When she faced her past, she wanted to taste him everywhere and know she was his.

His erection jerked in her hand and she closed her fingers like a vise, making his thighs bunch and flex under her upper body. “Goddamn, baby.” He hit the gas again and she had the sensation of speed and the breeze wafting through the crack in the window before the car zagged left and hot fluid pumped into her mouth.

She took down every drop, swallowing over and over while her hand prolonged the rhythm on his pulsing flesh. And then when she was done, she pulled back long enough to suck in a breath before going back down to lick him clean. It was only then that she realized he was panting like he’d run a race and his knee was jittering like he couldn’t keep it still.

“You okay?” she asked, lifting his T-shirt to nibble along his sexy happy trail. God, his body was a damn feast to behold. She could lose herself on this particular playground for years.

A lifetime.

He didn’t answer for so long that she shifted to look up at him. He was grinning, his gaze centered on the road. His thumb circled at her temple before sliding down her cheek to rub over her swollen lips. “You’re a fucking goddess. Freaking,” he amended when she started to correct him.

“Finally, the man is learning.” She shifted back onto her seat and rolled her neck like a prizefighter who’d just emerged victorious after a title bout. “So…chicken?”

He laughed and turned on his signal to get off at the next exit.

She snapped on her seatbelt and grinned. No matter the odds, she never gave up.

That meant she wouldn’t give up on her little sister either. Maybe Oprah wouldn’t be hiding behind the drapes with a camera crew just yet, but she could still make this into a happy ending. She refused to settle for anything less.

Gray stood in the outside hallway of the restaurant, phone in hand, while Jazz bobbed her head to the country music coming through the speakers and pulled off crispy pieces of breading. She popped them into her mouth and licked her fingers, making him fight a grin. How the hell could she be so adorable not thirty minutes after swallowing his come like a damn porn star?

Better than a porn star. Not that he’d watched that much porn, all things considered, but no woman could be hotter than Jazz. The fact that she’d crawled all over their car on her hands and knees while carrying their baby in her belly…yeah.

He shifted and gripped the phone tighter. He was getting hard again, just from watching her eat chicken. Fuck.

“This is Father Freeley. My secretary said you have a rush job.”

Gray sent up a quick apology for the timing of this phone call. He was a lapsed Catholic in all ways, but this was pushing it even for him. “Yes, I do. I was referred to you from—well, it’s kind of a long story, but you used to work at Holy Family in Vista View. You were one of the priests who baptized me.”

“Was I now? How long ago was that?”

“More than twenty years ago.”

“And now you’re getting married.”

“Yes, well, I hope to. I didn’t really plan anything ahead of time.”

“Well, then. I hope you’re not treating your marriage the same way. I’m all for spur-of-the-moment, but if you haven’t gone through the suggested pre-marital counseling—”

“We’ve been in love for close to a decade. I’m not backing out.”

Father Freeley let out a long breath. “You’re still young, son. What’s the rush? Why not take the time to give your bride—and you—the wedding of your dreams?”

Gray looked through the glass door where Jazz was now tapping her fingers on the tabletop while she sipped on her iced tea. He smiled. She did that whenever she was bored. Drummer’s curse. In a minute, she’d probably come out here to look for him. The bathroom excuse only worked for so long.

“I’m hoping I can pull that off in about twenty-four hours. We’re not high-maintenance people. We don’t really care about the ceremony, we just want to be married. Need to be.”

“She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Gray coughed. “Uh—”

Father Freeley laughed. “Son, you’re not the first nor will you be the last to call me in a panic about a rush ceremony. Is she about to give birth?”

“No. Not even close. She’s barely showing yet, and besides, that’s not why I want to do it now. We’re going on tour soon and with the album coming out, it’s just going to be too hard to find time to get away.”

“Album, hmm? This is starting not to sound like the usual couple I assist in these times.”

“We’re in a band.”

“I figured that. Don’t suppose you’re in the Christian music field?”

“No.” Gray thought of Oblivion’s current hit “Sugar Kiss”—aka an ode to oral sex, specifically oral sex with his soon-to-be wife—and winced. “Not exactly.”

“Head-banging music?”

Gray laughed. “At times, yes. Look, San Francisco’s special to us. I’d like to get married there now and then we can do another ceremony later if she wants to. Whatever she wants.”

“Are you hoping to use the church?”

“No. Do you happen to have some grounds nearby maybe? I want to make it easy on you, but I realize holding it in the house of the Lord might be a bit much for…reasons.” Gray took another quick glance inside the restaurant and noticed Jazz had toed off her flip flops and had curled her bare legs under herself on the seat. “Plus, I’m pretty sure she’s going to want to be barefoot. It’s her thing.”

Father Freeley chuckled. “I can do you one better than the church itself. We’re right next door to a park with numerous hills. On a clear day, and from the right vantage spot, you can see the bridge in the distance.”

“The Golden Gate?”

“Is there any other?”

“No. Not really.” Gray grinned. “Does this mean you’re saying you’ll do it? You’ll marry us? Please. I promise, after this one lapse of premarital sex we’ll be good Catholics from here on out.” One lapse plus about ten thousand. But his fingers of his free hand were crossed in his pocket, so the fib didn’t count.

“Twist my robe, why don’t you? Of course I will. I would never stand in the path of true love. But one request.” He lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “Can you sign a T-shirt for me? I have a teenage niece who would love some memorabilia from a head-banging band.”

“Sure thing. Thank you so much.”

They finalized a few details then Gray hung up and hurriedly called Lila. “Tell me you’re coming tomorrow.”

“Well, hello to you too,” she said drily. “Yes, I’m coming. Though next time, I’d appreciate some notice to do damage control. You do realize the paparazzi will probably get their hands on this info? Thanks to you, I have no time to work my spin.”

“The spin is I want to marry my girl, hopefully quickly and privately enough that no one with a telephoto lens will find out.”

“Dream on, rockstar.”

“You’re the second person to say that to me today.” Shaking it off, he waved to Jazz through the glass and held up his finger to indicate one more minute when she frowned. Time was running out. “Look, I need a favor.”

“A favor other than interrupting my work in the middle of the week to drive up to San Francisco?”

“You’re not driving. You’re taking your husband’s private jet and bringing the band with you.”

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess. Plus I couldn’t imagine you sitting in a smog-filled car for five hours.” He grinned. “I need a T-shirt.”

“Then how are you affording a wedding?”

He had to laugh. “We’re doing it pretty low-key. Though, shit, she needs a dress. Can you find one for her?” He relayed a few more details about the church and the park next door, waiting while she wrote down the address. “Oh, and make sure Harper comes. No matter what, Harper needs to be there.”

“Anything else? My personal assistant will just be so bored if you don’t keep giving me tasks to pass on to her.”

“About the T-shirt.” He explained about Father Freeley, then blew out a breath. He hadn’t talked as much in the last month as he had in the last ten minutes. “Do we have anything left merch-wise?”

“We’re in the process of coordinating new merchandise for the album and tour. The numerous delays on said album led to the merchandise being delayed also. We’re expecting a shipment next week.”

“Next week is too late. C’mon, one damn shirt?”

“The only thing we have left in house is the shirts for Simon’s Skanks.”

He chuckled. “Simon’s Sirens? That’ll do.”

“No, I’d swear it says skanks.”

Knowing Lila’s sense of humor could be sarcastic on the best day, he just went with it. “Okay, fine. Bring one, please.”

“Surely there’s more. Do you need flowers for her hair?”

“Fuck. I didn’t even think of flowers. Are they necessary?”

“In a wedding? Of course not. Neither are the wedding bands—” At his groan, she sighed. “Seriously, Grayson, have you not done one thing in preparation?”

“At least we have our marriage license. We got it as soon as I got back from rehab in case we carved out time for the wedding before the tour.”

“One thing taken care of. I’m so proud.”

“There’s one more. I also rented the penthouse suite at the Palatial in San Fran. They bled me dry for two nights. And I think they gave me a discount when I told them my name.”

“Right, of course you’d get the place for the honeymoon squared away. Because that benefits you. All you men are the same.” It sounded like Lila thumped something in the background. “Where is the love? Where is the romance?”

“Can you bring some of that too? I have the love part down, I think.” He smiled at her disgusted huff. “Cool your jets. I have the wedding bands taken care of. I just, uh, haven’t picked them up from the jeweler yet.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Alas, no. Can you grab those too on the way here?” Before she could say no, he rattled off the jeweler’s name and address.

“Your thin ice is about to cave in, pal.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it more than I can say.” Noticing that Jazz was getting restless—her plate of food was empty, and that was one of the few things that could hold her attention for long these days—he reached for the door handle. “I’ll sign anything you want and do two extended solos at every show on the first leg of the tour.”

“And an extended solo in the encore. And maybe a book signing.”

“For what book?”

“We’ll talk later. Ciao.” Lila clicked off.

Clearly, he’d just signed his soul away to the devil. Except this one hid her horns beneath layers of perfect blond hair.

“Who was that?” Jazz asked.

“Lila.” He pocketed his phone but kept his crossed fingers firmly tucked in his pocket. More lies were coming, and they were basically against the tenets he’d agreed to in rehab. Lies for a good reason were still lies, and he didn’t want to start down that path again if he didn’t have to.

Unfortunately, right now he had no choice.

“Why did you call her?”

“She needs me back in the studio again.”

“What? Why? Your parts were all set. I heard them. They were incredible. Jimmy Page couldn’t have done better.”

He slid into the booth and leaned across the table to cup her cheeks in his hands. “Keep talking like that and we’ll never get to San Jose.”

“Sure, we will. They have rest stops. Besides, I thought ahead for easier access.” She slipped something red out of her pocket and pressed it into his hand, right above her plate of demolished chicken. Seriously, he wasn’t even sure she’d left the bones.

Then he refocused on what she’d handed him. Lacy. Tiny. Damp.

“Holy fu—nballs.”

She only smirked. “When he’s born, you can go back to using the word every five minutes. I may even let you have an extended session saying the word in my ear while you demonstrate a live action sequence.”

“You may let me?” He tucked the pair of panties into his pocket, barely resisting the urge to sniff them. Hell, if there hadn’t been grandparents with some young kids in the next booth, he would’ve buried his face in them.

“There is no may, Yoda. There is only do.”

“Someone’s mood has improved.” He picked up one discarded breast from her plate. “That chicken tasted good going down, huh?”

“Not all that tasted good going down.” She smacked her lips and slid out of the booth to slip back into her shoes, mischief dancing in her eyes.

He chuckled. “You’re a dirty bird.”

“Duh.” She dumped out her tray in the garbage and returned to tug him out of the booth. “Well, c’mon then. If we have to get right back so you can head into the studio, we have to get to Molly’s in a hurry. No more sidetrips.”

“Tell your belly that,” he said, following her out to the parking lot. Watching her ass sway unabashedly the whole time.

“Your son is offended by that comment.” She got into the passenger side of the car and turned on the radio as soon as he started the ignition. An Oblivion song was playing—their first big hit, “The Becoming.” The song that he’d written with Deacon that had led to him and Jazz being invited to join the band.

He smiled at her across the small space that separated them. Even that felt like too much. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.” Her smile was wistful. “It hasn’t been all that long since we joined the band, but God, everything has changed.”

“Not quite a year yet. One hell of an anniversary.” He brushed her hair out of her face and rubbed his thumb over her full lower lip. “Dylan Edward Duffy.”

She blinked. “What?”

“The kid’s name. What do you think?”

“I—I don’t know. We haven’t even begun to think of names. I’m only on the Bs in my baby name book.”

He reversed then drove to the exit. “Let it sit. See what you think.”

“Edward for a middle name?”

“Unless you want to make it Edwards.”

“That sounds so stuffy. Like he should be in Parliament or something.”

“Wrong country, but President would be cool.” He shot her a grin as he headed toward the entrance to the freeway. “Better than a rock star.”

“What’s so bad about being a rock star? It lets me bang lots of dudes.” Pursing her lips, she slid him a glance. “So, um, about those Raiders.”

It felt so good to laugh as he reached out to toy with her hair. Someday he might not need to touch her every minute, but that day wasn’t coming anytime soon. “The only dude you’re banging for the rest of your life is me. Deal with it, Duffy.”

It took her a second to realize what he’d said, but when she did, a slow smile dawned across her face. “I like the sound of that.”

He did too, a hell of a lot. And hopefully by this time tomorrow, it would be official.

If he didn’t colossally fuck up the biggest day of his life.