“The cranberry sauce. I forgot the cranberry sauce.”

Luke looked over at his mother, her hands ten-and-two-ing the steering wheel in a death grip. “It’s Thanksgiving, Ma. I think that the Taylors have got cranberry sauce covered.”

“I left it on your kitchen counter. Will your horse eat it?”

“Sassy’s a Great Dane, but no, I think the cranberry sauce will be safe. If it’s not still mooing, Sass isn’t interested.”

Moira’s nose wrinkled. Though she’d met Sassy twice now, she’d yet to warm up to the “horse,” as she called him. The same couldn’t be said for the Dane, who’d taken to nuzzling up to Luke’s mom every chance he got. Luke had thought Sassy might be Moira’s cup of tea: gentle, quiet, and an all-around sweetheart.

But no, Moira had as much affection for the dog as the dog had for cats.

Luke rearranged the sweet-potato casserole on his lap. “Amy meeting us there?”

“Yes.” Moira sent a hesitant glance his way. “Robb’s joining.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” With a straight finger, she punched through the various radio stations, finally settling on Christmas music. It bothered Luke when people couldn’t wait for Thanksgiving to pass before they whipped out the garland and the blow-up lawn decorations, but he bit his tongue. Humming along to Jingle Bells, Moira said, “Robb told me that he filled you in.”

Luke stayed silent. He’d already forgiven his mom and sister for their deception—they were family and he had so little of it already. But the hurt lingered, arrowing in on his chest. Was it too much to hope that they would have just trusted him? God forbid they let the black sheep in on the family secrets. Better to just lie to him for almost a decade.

The bowl of green beans shifted at his feet, and he clamped his shoes on either side of the glass to keep it steady as they took to the shitty New Orleans streets.

Almost guiltily, Moira murmured, “I’m so sorry, baby. We should have said something—at some point. You disliked Robb so much . . .”

“I would have gotten over it.”

They pulled up to Brady and Shaelyn’s shotgun house in the Irish Channel. A blow-up turkey sat on the porch like a guardian of the house, and Luke chuckled. Until Shaelyn had returned to New Orleans, Brady wouldn’t have bothered with Thanksgiving at all. The guy was fully invested in his career, so it was nice to see him relax and enjoy life outside of the NOPD’s homicide department.

“Will you hold the green beans?” he asked, bending over to swoop up the bowl from the floor. “I can’t grab both.”

“Luke.”

He stilled at the steel in Moira’s tone.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re going to go in there and pretend everything is just fine. I just want you to know that I’m sorry. Amy is sorry . . . Robb is sorry, too. It was never our intent to hurt you. We just . . . we didn’t mean to make you feel like an outsider.”

Except that they had. While he’d spent years putting his body through hell, and his mind through a grater, they’d picked and selected what they felt like he could handle. It was a brutal bruise to the ego, an even ruder awakening to his state of mind.

“I’m good, Ma.” He held out the green beans to her, and with a soft grumble she took it. “I know y’all had your own reasoning.”

“But you’re upset.”

Didn’t he have the right to be? “I’m solid.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.”

“Are you really sure?” she pressed, worry lining her brow. “I hate the thought of you being mad and just not saying anything.”

“I’m good, Ma. If I were any better, we’d have unicorns raining from the sky.”

She laughed at his dramatics, exactly as he’d intended her to. “You always did love Amy’s My Little Pony toys.”

“What?” Luke shook his finger at her. “Now don’t be spreading any lies at this party. I only played with Ken dolls, if I played with dolls at all.”

“You did. Amy begged you.”

And what Amy wanted, Luke had always done everything in his power to give her. Which was why, even though he wanted nothing more than to plow his fist into her boyfriend’s face, he had no plans of actually doing so. “Let’s keep that to ourselves, eh?”

As Moira threatened to tell the world about his love for My Little Pony—a show he couldn’t even recall watching—Luke unfolded his body from the car and grabbed the sweet potato casserole from the passenger’s seat. He spared the glove compartment a glance, where’d he’d stowed away a gift. For Anna.

He’d heard through the grapevine that she might be here today, but if she wasn’t . . . Probably better to just leave it here, for now. Luke had enough to carry without adding the ridiculous gift he’d bought her on a whim to the mix.

Didn’t help that his lower body felt constrained, thanks to the jeans he’d donned just before leaving. You dressed up for her—admit it.

Yeah, he had. But he hadn’t been able to rid himself of the cane, which he still clasped like a second lifeline, though he planned to leave it by the front door with the coats and jackets.

If he needed it, it wouldn’t be so far out of reach.

And if Anna wasn’t there today, as Brady had hinted that she’d be, he’d be surrounded by family. If he stumbled or moved a bit slow, no one would be waiting to make fun of him.

He and his mother crossed the street, sidestepping a massive pothole, and took the porch stairs slowly.

“I haven’t been here in so long!” Moira exclaimed with a little smile. “He and Shae have done a great job with the place.”

“Make sure you tell Brady that.” Luke held open the door with his good hip so that his mom could enter the house before him. “You’ll be his favorite forever.”

“I’m already his favorite,” his mom answered readily, just before a shriek echoed from inside the house.

“Luke!” The sound of high heels tip-tapping snapped his attention to Shaelyn striding toward them. “Mrs. O’Connor,” she greeted with a hug and a kiss when she came within arm’s reach. She welcomed Luke with a light punch to the arm and a half-hug.

A shiny flash caught his eye as she pulled back, immediately snagging his gaze to the rock on her finger. He recognized the ring. A smile pulled at his lips. “Damn,” he said with a chuckle, “he did it on Thanksgiving?”

Shaelyn blushed prettily, holding out her hand in that classic way women did when they were showing off a new piece of jewelry. “Actually, he proposed last night.” She leaned forward, cupping a hand around her mouth as though imparting a grand secret. “I don’t think he meant to propose, but I found the ring in the turkey pan.”

Moira laughed, grabbing hold of Shae’s wrist to appropriately ooh and ahh over the massive diamond. “It’s gorgeous. Congratulations, honey.”

Brady entered the living room, his customary Saints baseball hat pulled down low. “You showin’ off the ring?”

“She’s telling us how you couldn’t think of a better place to hide the damn thing than in a pan,” Luke quipped, wishing he had an extra hand to grab his best friend by the neck for a hug. Brady seemed to read Luke’s frustration, because he took the sweet-potato casserole dish and then clapped Luke on the back with his free hand.

“To be fair, totally slipped my mind that Thanksgiving was rolling up soon. There I was thinking I had the perfect hiding place, when all of a sudden I heard Shaelyn scream.”

“You screamed?” Luke asked Shae, grinning at the visual.

“The pan fell on my head,” she admitted, her hazel eyes glimmering with pure happiness.

Brady laughed. “It’s because she’s short.”

“Petite,” Shae countered.

“Short.”

“Vertically challenged.”

“All right,” Brady agreed with another hearty laugh, “vertically challenged.”

Luke was happy that they were happy. He just didn’t understand why he felt . . . alone. No, not alone. Lonely. Damn, he should have just brought Sassy along, no matter Moira’s adamant argument that dogs belonged at home on the holidays. “So,” he said, “the pan fell on you?”

“I was climbing on the countertop. I thought I grabbed the right pan, but apparently I didn’t. Next thing I know, I’m on the floor and the pan is on the floor and there’s a velvet black box on the floor. I looked.”

“She’s got no sense of waiting for a surprise,” Brady said with a shake of his head, and a what-can-you-do shrug. “So, I proposed.”

Shaelyn mock-frowned, poking her fiancé in the side. “Technically I proposed. I asked if he planned to marry me or if the ring was for someone else.”

“Obviously I planned to propose.”

“Y’all are obnoxiously nauseating, you know that?” Luke thumped Brady on the back and then gave Shaelyn another kiss on the cheek. “Let me know how often y’all are going to repeat that story today.”

“So you can congratulate us?” Brady teased.

“No, so I can pour myself another drink.”

Moira playfully slapped Luke on the back of the head, and they moved as a group toward the kitchen. He could already hear Brady’s grandparents, Arthur and Mary Taylor, arguing with Shaelyn’s grandmother, Elaine Lawrence. There’d been a year or two in high school, when Brady and Shae had dated early on, that Thanksgiving had included the Lawrence family. For the most part, it’d just been the Taylors and the O’Connors, forever linked by Luke and Brady’s longstanding friendship.

“Jules, grab that pie, will you?”

Her voice stopped him dead in his tracks before he’d even entered the kitchen. Jesus, she was here.

“Honey, you all right?” asked Moira, pausing with her hand on the door frame. “You look like you might pass out.”

Luke felt like he might pass out. He glanced down at his clothes: casual black button down, worn-in jeans he hadn’t touched in almost a year, a pair of tennis shoes. Hell, he’d planned for this, to see her today—hadn’t he? So why the hell did he feel so out of it, all of a sudden? “I’m good, I’m good.” On impulse, he leaned the cane up against the wall and took a half step toward his mom. “Ready to get some grub?”

Moira’s mouth opened and then closed. “You’re acting strange.”

“I’m not.”

At the sound of Anna’s laughter from the kitchen, Luke fought the urge to lean forward and look for her. Damn, but Anna Bryce made him feel like his emotions were on a tight line that he didn’t know how to walk. His right knee felt a bit wobbly; he chalked it up to being cane-less.

“It’s a woman.”

Luke’s gaze swung over to his mom. “What?”

“You, this”—Moira motioned at him—“you acting strange. It’s got to do with a woman.” Her eyes lit with warmth. “Do I know her? Oh, this is so exciting!”

“It doesn’t—no. I’m not interested in anyone.” You keep telling yourself that, his conscience threatened. He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just feeling out of sorts today. A bit tired. Nothing that some good turkey can’t—”

“Oh!”

At her soft gasp of surprise, Luke’s body jerked. She looked . . . Aw, hell, she looked beautiful. Her soft blonde hair hung loose around her face as she blinked at him in shock. Instinctively, he took in her dress, a flirty burgundy number that dipped low at her breasts and nipped in tight at her slim waist.

Luke felt as though he’d taken a swift kick to the gut, his chest heaving with an indrawn breath that he’d forgotten to take upon first seeing her.

Hoping that he didn’t sound nearly as off kilter as he felt, he murmured, “Happy Thanksgiving, Blondie.” He was all too aware of his mother’s presence. More than anyone, Moira O’Connor could read him like a book.

This . . . thing with Anna; he’d prefer to keep it to himself.

“Luke,” Anna replied, just as softly. Her lips were painted the same color as her dress, her blue eyes dressed up with dark, sexy shadows. “I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

He held open his arms. “Surprise.”

Her mouth quirked up in a wry grin, and Luke felt the absurd desire to pull her away into a dark corner, where he could kiss her until they both forgot their names. Until they both forgot everything but the feel of each other’s bodies.

Beside him, his mother cleared her throat and Luke jumped to attention. “Sorry, Ma.” He gently pulled her forward. “Anna, this is my mom, Moira. Ma, this is Shaelyn’s cousin, Anna Bryce. Don’t think y’all have ever met.”

“No, I don’t think we have. Maybe in passing, once.” Moira hummed speculatively, a knowing look in her gaze that Luke disliked immediately. “How nice to meet you, Anna. Tell me, are you the reason why my son has been acting strange?”

Goddammit. “She’s not.”

Anna turned to him with interest. “You’ve been acting strange?”

“Not more so than usual.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Moira said conspiratorially. “A man will never admit it if he’s acting differently.”

“You gave birth to me. Aren’t you supposed to have my side?”

Moira reached over and pinched his cheek, the same way she’d done when he’d been five. “Always,” she promised, before excusing herself to enter the kitchen.

Leaving Anna and Luke alone.

The last time they’d been alone, he’d had her pinned to her car as he worshipped her mouth with his. The last time they’d been alone, she’d informed him that his kisses needed some work.

“You’re wearing jeans.” She sounded surprised, not that he blamed her. For as long as they’d known each other, sweatpants had been his go-to attire.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Luke said, “Figured it was a holiday and I should try to pull myself together.”

In other words, I didn’t want to look like a bum again for you.

“They look nice.”

“Thanks.” He dropped his hand back to his side. “You look nice, too.” Understatement. She looked beautiful, utterly breathtaking. Sometime in the last year he’d apparently lost his ability to compliment a woman.

At the same time that he uttered, “Did you hear about Brady and Shae?” she said, “You’re not using your cane.” Their voices collided, and they both gave an awkward laugh.

“You go first,” he told her, wiping a sweaty hand on his jean-clad leg.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I mentioned that you don’t have your cane.”

Would him not having a cane make a difference? Luke nodded toward the wall, where the cane in question was propped up against the fireplace. “Still got it. Thought I might see how I do for a few hours without it.”

“Is that smart?” She didn’t sound condescending, just worried. And her worry warmed him. “Shouldn’t you be using it for a while longer?”

“Probably. It’s not far if I need it.”

Luke didn’t think he would. He’d spent the last few days taking walks with Julian and Sassy. Each day they’d tacked on an extra block. Each night he’d sat before his TV with a newly purchased exercise elastic, so that he could run through his physical therapy circuits at home.

When his hip hurt now, it felt sore rather than like burning fire, which Luke assumed was a signal for progress. Plus, now that he was walking more with Julian, he felt less confined. Less confined, and also less frustrated with his circumstances.

Anna shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “If you need me to grab it for you, just let me know. I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, Blondie.” Luke didn’t want her running around for him. “Is Julian here?”

“He is.”

They fell into silence. Luke wouldn’t classify it as uncomfortable, but it definitely wasn’t easy either. He wondered what she was thinking. Was she hoping he’d choke on a turkey bone later? He couldn’t blame her, if she was—he’d been a complete prick the other night.

“What were you going to say,” she said, reigniting the conversation from the ashes. “Something about Brady?”

Luke grasped her metaphorical olive branch with two hands. “Their engagement.”

“Oh, right.” Anna smiled, her teeth flashing white in her face. “Shaelyn would stumble across the ring, right? She planned her wedding at the age of seven, even though she spent years pretending that weddings are pointless ceremonies and all relationships are worthless. Not unlike your perspective on the latter.”

Ouch. Luke flashed her a devil-may-care grin, because he didn’t dare let her see that, for once, her astute read on him no longer sat so well. And because he didn’t dare let her see that her claws had drawn blood, he asked, “Did you plan your wedding at the age of seven?”

“I think I was too busy planning my career as a doctor to be bothered with weddings.” With a self-deprecating laugh, she added, “Funny, don’t you think? I was a debutante and did that whole scene in high school. And there I was the entire time, hoping that I’d have good enough grades to make my dreams a reality.”

“Why didn’t you go to med school, then?” Luke couldn’t recall his dreams as a kid. Food on the table had been what he’d wanted most. A steady job with steady income so he could provide for his family had been the dream which had taken root in high school.

“I tried, at first.” She shook her head, and the blonde hair she’d hooked behind her ear came loose. His fingers itched to tuck the strands back into place, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets for both his and Anna’s sakes. “When I got pregnant, I guess my priorities shifted.” She shrugged. “But, no, I never was the girl with a wedding book tucked away in my closet.”

Unsure if he even wanted the answer, Luke heard himself ask, “Did you want to marry Julian’s father?”

Her blue eyes flared with sudden disgust. “It’s been so long that I can barely remember, but . . . I guess, yeah, I did. At the beginning.” Foreign jealousy flooded Luke, and he cast the emotion aside. “I’m glad now that I didn’t. I would have been miserable.”

In the last few weeks, she’d made similar comments and Luke wanted to ask questions. He wanted to know more. But he couldn’t exactly expect answers if he wasn’t willing to reciprocate.

“So, no wedding planning as a little girl?” he said instead, shifting his weight to his good leg.

“No, no wedding planning. I’m starting to think that maybe weddings and unicorns aren’t for everyone.”

“Unicorns?”

“You know,” she muttered, once again tucking hair behind her ear. This time she lowered her gaze to the floor, and Luke couldn’t help himself—he reached out and cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger. Blue eyes flicked up to his face in surprise, and, Jesus, but Luke felt that one glance all the way down to the dark depths of his soul. “Love. Soul mates. That sort of thing.”

“You’re thirty-two, Blondie.” Her breath shuddered over his knuckles. “You’ve got some time.”

“I have gray hairs.”

He pretended to peer at the top of her head, but even a cursory glance proved what he already knew: Anna Bryce was beautiful. Even if she had a full head of gray hair, he doubted they’d detract from her looks. “I don’t see any.”

“They’re, uh—” She pulled back from his touch, coughing into a closed fist. “Anyway, I think dating past the age of twenty-two is overrated. I’d say that dating in general would be overrated but I don’t want to sound like a grinch.”

No way was he letting her bypass her little slip-up. “You were saying about the gray hairs?”

“Do we have to talk about it?”

“You brought it up.”

“And I’m un-bringing it up,” she snipped, her cheeks flushed.

Luke shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“It does now. So, anyway, dating.”

Sensing her unease, he let her get away with the subject change. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “You did mention something about being over dating.” Had she agreed to a date with that Ajax fellow? He’d thought of nothing else since Julian had first brought it up. Flicking an invisible speck from his button down, he opted for fishing for information. “We’ve got another week left in our challenge—unless you’ve met someone?”

“Actually, I—”

Whatever she would have said faded into silence as the front door burst open and Amy and Robb entered.

“Luke, you’re here!” his sister exclaimed, striding toward him with a bright, flashy grin. Her brown hair was pulled onto the top of her head in a bun, and she wore a slim-fitting dress the color of a pumpkin. He grimaced. It was a bit of an eyesore, but he doubted the women in the house would agree with him on that.

Amy yanked him down into a tight, suffocating hug—her signature greeting. Over her shoulder, Robb gave him an apologetic smile and mouthed, “sorry.”

Luke would bet his life that Robb Hampton wasn’t sorry at all.

“Good to see you, Ames.” He bracketed her hands with his and unhooked them from their death grip around his neck. “You’re looking in the holiday spirit.”

“Robb said my dress looks like a pumpkin.”

Thank you. Nice to know that he wasn’t the only person around here who thought so. Not that he’d ever say so out loud—that was Robb’s first mistake. “Nah, sis,” he murmured, “the color works with, uh, your hair.”

“My hair is brown, Luke.”

He sent a plaintive look to Anna, who only held up her hands, palms out, and shook her head. To his sister, he said, “You look like fall.”

Robb released a bark of laughter. “You’re no better than I am, O’Connor. It’s a good thing I’ve already made your sister a happy woman today.”

Luke tensed, shoulders stiffening. He could tell himself every day that Robb Hampton meant well, but when the guy issued flippant comments like that . . . it begged the question of whether Amy knew she was dating a complete a-hole. At this point, she’d be better off with Trinket or one of Luke’s brothers in uniform. Then again, it was her life—she’d allegedly been dating the guy for years . . . happily. If Robb was who Amy wanted, then at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered.

A small hand—Anna’s hand—settled on his lower back at the same time that Amy said, “Where’s Mom? Is she in the kitchen? I’ve got something to show y’all.”

He didn’t like the sound of that.

From beside him, Anna murmured, “I don’t think we’ve met?” She held out a hand to Amy, then to Robb. He recognized her smile as the professional one she’d given Jas. Luke took solace in the fact that she’d never turned that cool smile his way. “I’m Anna,” she continued, “Shaelyn’s cousin.”

Amy and Robb introduced themselves, and as Amy gushed over Anna’s dress, Luke wondered if he’d entered the Twilight zone. Four months ago, he’d been sweating his ass off in the Middle East, shooting the shit with his brothers, and dreaming of a time when he wouldn’t have to sleep with his rifle and a magazine next to him.

Fast forward four months and here he was: still sleeping with his rifle (at least, it was in the same room) and listening to his sister shoot the shit with a woman who—

A woman who what? Luke scrubbed a hand over his freshly shaven jaw. He didn’t have an answer for what Anna was to him, but he knew that he liked the feel of her hand on his back, and he knew, without doubt, that the last few days without speaking to her had been hell.

Despite Sassy’s slobber and unconditional love, the lonely sensation he’d thought he’d shed had returned with a vengeance. Brady was always busy with Shaelyn or work, and while Luke spent his days at Herbal Heaven manning the register . . . Maybe it was sad to admit, but a fourteen-year-old kid had become his closest friend.

The fact that the kid was the by-product of the woman standing next to him—a woman who smelled as delicious as she looked—threatened to unman him.

Anna Bryce was turning his life upside-down and she didn’t even know it.

“We’ve got to get Mom,” Amy said, ushering the lot of them through the tight doorway and into the kitchen.

Arthur Taylor carved the turkey while Brady supervised nearby; Shaelyn and her grandmother seemed to be in a heated discussion about something or another, while Julian sat at the table with a bowl of chips in his lap. Off to the side, Moira and Mary Taylor were keeping watch over the stove.

The lonely sensation didn’t flee, and Luke just barely caught himself from reaching for Anna’s hand.

“Mom!” Amy said, bustling forward with Robb trailing at her heels like an obedient pup.

Moira turned, her face brightening at the sight of her daughter. “Hey honey, Happy Thanksgiving.”

Amy dutifully kissed their mother’s cheek, then did the same for Mary Taylor. “Mom, I’ve got to show you something,” Luke’s sister said, grabbing at Robb’s hand to yank him forward.

“Actually, two things.” Robb smiled nervously and red alarms burst in Luke’s head.

He met his mother’s gaze over Amy’s head. Something told him he was going to need his cane for this. Amy O’Connor loved big announcements. At the age of seven, she’d announced her first baby tooth falling out of her mouth. At the age of twelve, she’d announced her first period with none of the embarrassment that girls tended to exhibit. At sixteen, she’d announced experiencing her first kiss, and, subsequently, the first time she had sex (Moira had immediately set her daughter up on birth control with a threat to bar her bedroom doors shut). At eighteen, she’d announced her plans to attend university—surprising them when she’d rejected Louisiana State University’s offer for Alabama.

Amy was a big personality in a small package, and Luke had a sneaking suspicion that she was about to pull another Alabama-sized “blindside” on them all.

“Do we need champagne for this?” asked Mary Taylor, already moving toward the cabinets. “Arthur, help me with the flutes.”

“Shaelyn, take note of Miz Mary’s tendency to instruct her husband,” Elaine Lawrence said, tapping her granddaughter on the hand with a fork. “Obedient husband equals happy marriage. It’s why your poor grandfather only made it to the age of forty-five before he keeled over.”

Shaelyn snorted into her wine. “Meme,” she exclaimed, “it’s a holiday.”

“Just a suggestion, that’s all, cher.”

“Champagne?” Mary asked Luke, interpreting his hesitation as a yes. She shoved a flute into his hand, and his fingers immediately wrapped around the stem.

Anna bumped his good hip with hers, drawing his gaze down to her blue eyes. “Big announcement, right? Any idea what it might be?”

Amy didn’t give Luke the chance to answer. His sister squeezed her eyes shut, turned to the side, and then brandished her hand in the air. “I’m engaged!”

The room erupted into a commotion of congratulations and air kisses. Luke’s feet were rooted to the floor. Robb had said that they had two announcements. The engagement, which he’d expected after his last conversation with Hampton, only accounted for one announcement. Not two.

“Luke?”

She placed her hand on his back again, and this time he didn’t stop himself. Still staring straightforward, his right hand found hers. He felt her initial flinch and he immediately released his hold, silently cursing his own idiocy for making a move she obviously didn’t want. He’d had his chance and he’d fucked it up, and it would be best if he got that through his thick skull now—

Her pinky hooked around his, and the breath whooshed out of Luke. Around him, everything was chaos. Anna was—hell, he still didn’t know. His gaze snagged on a flower pot by the sink window. An orchid. That was the flower he couldn’t name for Julian the other day. Anna Bryce was an orchid, beautiful and dainty, and yet still powerful and independent.

And right now, even with just her pinky latched onto his, Luke felt invincible. Stronger than he’d felt in weeks, if not months. He didn’t care how pathetic that sounded, or why a relationship with Anna Bryce was not feasible in any way, shape or form.

Amy grabbed a fork from the kitchen countertop and clanged Robb’s glass, wedding-toast style. “I’ve got one more surprise for the day!”

Moira glanced his way, her gaze darting down to where he and Anna held pinkies, before flicking up to his face. Her familiar green eyes were worried and Luke felt his stomach plummet.

“Tell us already!” Elaine Lawrence hollered from the back. “I’m aging faster than a dog in heat the longer I sit here.”

No one mentioned that the comment made not a single lick of sense. No, their attention was fixed elsewhere, on Luke’s sister. And on the thermometer-looking object she’d whipped out from her purse and was now waving about in the air.

Anna wrapped her ring finger around his.

Luke wondered how quickly a guy his size could get wasted off of champagne.

“I’m pregnant!”