Breakfast was Calder’s favorite time of day. When he was a shit ton younger and mainly concerned with wave heights and surfboard technology, he began his habit of making the first meal of the day a thing. Nothing changed in the decades that followed. His body and his brain worked better when his day started right.

“This is a modified CBB or what your mama says is a country boy breakfast.”

He gestured with a slotted spatula at the pan of breakfast foods on the stove.

“Bacon—or as your Uncle Cris calls it, the food of the gods—and homemade turkey sausage. One is heart healthy and one is not.” He grinned at his son and winked. “I hope you’re taking notes because there’s a pop quiz scheduled for Monday.”

Wolf, who spent most of his waking time trying to eat his hands, smiled and cooed. The boy’s stats from his recent doctor’s visit ticked off in his mind.

Almost fifteen pounds and twenty-four and a half inches long! At the top of his percentile. The nurse found the fact that the boy could roll over in both directions something worth noting on his chart. So too the fact that like all the Dane’s, Wolf liked to sleep. Though he sort of missed the every three-hour schedule, Calder admitted it was easier on him and the Duchess that their son conked out for eight to ten hours every night.

As he rocked closer to the four-month milestone, not only could his kid sit upright and control his head, but he was also starting to eat solid foods and had already showed a preference for pureed sweet potatoes and baby cereal mixed with extra milk.

He flipped the sausage patties and moved the two measly pieces of bacon around the cast iron pan. Stephanie would throw a hissy-fit if he did what he wanted and cooked up a whole slab.

Adjusting the flame to its lowest setting, he moved on to the next part of this impromptu healthy breakfast lecture. Sliding a chair closer to Wolf’s high chair, Calder sat and placed a carton of eggs on the chair’s tray.

“Here’s where a CBB gets interesting. The eggs are everything, my boy, but too many people don’t know shit about making them properly.”

Wolf slammed his chubby hand onto the cardboard carton. The kid wasn’t shy about getting involved. “Gu-goo.” He drooled with a goofy, lopsided grin.

“Exactly,” he drawled with a matching half grin as if they were having an intelligent conversation. “Your cousin Meghan is a terror in the kitchen so do yourself a favor and never let her fix you anything. But your Aunt Ash, lemme tell you, son, she is a wizardess with scrambled. Nobody makes ’em fluffier than she does.”

He cracked open the carton and extracted a smooth, brown egg.

“The trick to the best eggs is never cooking them ice cold. Let the thing come to room temperature.”

Wolf grabbed for the delicate egg, but he kept it out of reach.

“Now watch this. Daddy has mad skill with eggs.”

He placed the carton aside and slapped a heavy stoneware bowl onto the highchair tray. Holding up the egg for visual effect, he drawled, “Observe,” and then cracked the shell clean in two with a one-hand flourish learned from watching endless hours of food television.

“Goo.” Wolf giggled.

Gathering the bowl and eggshells he moved to the stove and continued the cooking lesson.

“This ingenious device is a whisk. Stainless steel. I don’t know why that matters, but there ya have it.”

He gave the egg a whisk and showed his son the result.

“After decades of research and debate, the verdict is in. Only a nonstick pan will do.”

He held up the small pan and spun it in his hand like a tennis racket before dramatically dropping it to the stovetop.

“And because your mom isn’t watching, Daddy adds a nice knob of unsalted butter. Let it melt—just a few seconds.”

He slid the frothy egg mixture on top of the bubbling butter.

“And now for the final piece of specialist equipment—a rubber spatula. Do not ever try to do scrambled eggs with a fork. First, it fucks up the pan and second, just no.”

In no time at all, he had a fluffy pile of protein goodness on top of which he added both pieces of bacon. On the side were the turkey sausage patties. He showed the plate to Wolf and sat next to him at the breakfast table.

“This might seem gross, but it’s a Dane favorite.”

Cracking open a container of fresh cottage cheese, he scooped out a spoonful and topped the sausage patties with the creamy curds.

“Your grandfather was a lover of cottage cheese. He would wash the curds and eat them like peanuts popped in his mouth.”

The memory swamped his emotions. Calder sighed and studied his son’s face. A faint light twinkled in the depths of his dark blue eyes. With his chubby cheeks and happy smile, Wolf was a miniature version of Mark Dane. The resemblance was uncanny—in the same way that Stevie Marquez resembled Anna Dane.

Ashleigh had a speech that she attributed to Meghan about babies and new souls—connections to the past. When he looked at Wolf and saw the family resemblance, he understood.

He’d destroyed his breakfast and was finished cleaning when his wife—looking like she’d been awake less than a minute—appeared. Yawning, she stretched and gave him an instant hard-on. Stephanie’s summer pajamas consisted of a flimsy camisole that showed off her beautiful breasts and hard nipples plus ass molding boyshort undies.

Stumbling on bare feet, she came to him for a good morning kiss that curled his toes. She’d been awake longer than a minute because she tasted like toothpaste and was already rocking a spritz of sexy perfume.

“How are my boys this morning?” She asked this question with a wicked smile and an audacious crotch grope that let her know exactly how he was this fine morning.

Just when the groping became interesting, she stopped and focused on the baby. Whirling away, she bent over to kiss Wolf. Viewing Stephanie’s ass in the boyshorts added to his growing erection.

“Mwah, mwah, mwah!” Pressing smacking kisses on their son’s face and head, she got him giggling happily.

He was justifiably torn between feeding her breakfast or making love to her on the kitchen island. They’d done it before and discovered it was the perfect height for a lusty bit of legs over the shoulders fun.

Of course, there was always the chair in her kitchen nook where she kept a laptop and the rest of the stuff necessary for a housewife. The vintage school chair was sturdy and didn’t have arms. Just what they need for a penetrating lap dance.

Breakfast won out. Taking care of her was his best job.

“What’s on your agenda today, Mrs. Dane?”

After a smirky and what appeared to be appreciative eyeing of his obvious bulge, she said with velvet huskiness, “I have my priorities in order, Mr. Dane. Luckily for you, this means the situation in your pants needs my attention.”

The situation in his pants! Calder snickered. He saw the sensuous flame lurking in his wife’s smile and returned to making her something to eat. She’d need her strength for the scenario forming in his dirty mind.

“Once I’ve dispatched your situation”—she giggled with twinkling fingers and some waving of her hands—“I’m going to meet Heather. She’s bringing Rebecca Tate by so we can meet and have a nice chat.”

Hmph. Typical Duchess. No surprise finding out she was moving ahead with hiring an assistant but doing it her way and without any input whatsoever from him.

He was married to one hell of a fine woman who was not at all persuaded by his masculine bullshit. Kept his damn ego in check—that was for sure.

What could be better than a wife who didn’t demand but expect total equality? Unless they were naked. That was one time when she enjoyed ceding control.

Calder gently flipped her over easy egg.

Yeah. He liked being married.

Reaching for the lone slice of bread in the toaster, he handed it off along with some silverware and hurried back to the stove before her egg turned to rubber.

“If she is even half as smart as I hope, I’m going to drag her with me after Labor Day to Lonepoke for the rodeo.”

This was news to him. “Uh, a rodeo?”

He put a plate in front of her, sat, and pushed a napkin close. She was carving up an avocado for the toast while Wolf quietly regarded them.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun.” She smiled at him. “You know how much I like a hometown rodeo.”

Calder studied his Duchess as she mashed half the damn avocado onto the wheat toast. Scooping a tiny blob onto her pinky, she offered it to their son who greedily sucked the green fruit into his mouth. Stephanie ate so many while pregnant that they joked their kid was powered by avocado!

If his marriage to this woman had taught him only one thing, it was to slow the fuck down in his rush to judgment and wait for her to lay it all out before reacting.

Was he down with her traipsing off to Lonepoke for the day with a woman he didn’t know? And most likely also dragging his son along for the adventure? Hell to the no.

But he also knew she wouldn’t poke the bear for no reason, so he waited to see where this was leading.

Watching her as she made everything just so before she started to eat was amusing and annoying at the same time. Men dug in and didn’t care about the specifics. Women, or rather his woman, had a whole routine.

Once the overkill mound of avocado was sprinkled with her latest passion—Himalayan Pink Salt—and a dusting of finely ground pepper, she spread a napkin on her lap, cut the toast into four pieces, and attacked the egg. She was licking yolk off her lips and chewing a piece of the toast when she continued.

“I’ve had my eye on this guy,” she said.

Calder stiffened in his seat. “Um, excuse you, what?”

Wolf gurgled and smacked a chubby hand on the highchair tray. Stephanie blew him a kiss and kept eating. And talking.

“Relax, Thor.”

He heard the playfulness in her voice but continued to scowl. It was not okay with him that his wife had her eye on anyone else no matter the reason.

She grabbed his chin. “Hey.”

Their eyes locked. She was close to giggling. He wasn’t.

“Shugah, honey,” she purred. “I love that my man gets jealous so easily but darling”—her lips caressed his when she leaned in—“there’s not another man alive who is yummier than you.”

Okay. He was good with that. Not happy about this other guy, whoever the hell he turned out to be, but a lot less likely to rip his nuts off.

He eyed her with clear lascivious intent. She tried not to laugh. It was the perfect combination of ridiculousness. She jacked him up so he’d be forced to prove his possession. Of her.

They were a match made in naughty heaven.

“Who the fuck is this dude?” he roughly demanded.

Her sly smile should have calmed his reaction, but it didn’t.

“Well, his name is James Hunter. Goes by Jamie.”

His reaction was instantaneous, impulsive, and showed how much of an asshole he could be. “Dumbass name. Sounds like a pussy.”

“Calder! Really?” Her displeasure came across loud and clear.

He shrugged. “Call ’em as I see them.”

The dogs chose that moment to come bounding into the kitchen and get an immediate shout of delight from Wolf.

“Your crew has arrived.” Stephanie snickered.

Right then, he should have smacked some sense into his damn head, but he chose instead to act like a grumpy dick. He didn’t like the idea of anyone who wasn’t already cleared by Justice being around his woman, and he didn’t give a galactic sized fart if this made him a caveman.

“You have to take ...” He stumbled over his he-man edict and scoured his thoughts for who to throw under the bus. “Shit. I don’t know. One of the stable hands.”

The dogs wrapped around his legs. They wanted to go out, and Wolf was ready for some fresh air. Frustration ground in his gut. He was overreacting, but who wouldn’t? He was a possessive and territorial guy and owed no one an apology.

Stephanie wiped her mouth and hands before crumpling the napkin into a ball. She shifted from her seat and onto his lap, laughing gaily when Meli got in the way.

“Ben is driving and well, you know. Security.” She kissed him with sweet passion. “Don’t growl so.”

“I’ll stop growling when you stop messing with my head.”

She burrowed against his neck and put her arms around his shoulders. With a soft sigh that warmed his skin, she gave in. “My bad.”

Fuck. “I love you.”

“I know,” she murmured. “And sometimes I’m a boob.”

Speaking of boobs—after all, she brought it up—he cupped a soft breast and gave a gentle squeeze. She curled into him with an adorable purr. He was seconds away from putting a hand inside her sexy boyshorts when Hanai woofed to get his attention.

“Okay then,” she said with a pleased grin. “I’m heading into the shower while you take care of the crew.”

A very raunchy kiss with loads of tongue and butt wiggling took him to the edge—and then she stood, kissed Wolf’s face, and dashed away.

So much for taking care of his situation.

Grumbling and horny, he cleaned up, grabbed Wolf, and led the dogs into the backyard. Maybe some exercise and sunshine would distract his less-than-happy erection.

* * *

Strutting naked around the bedroom as Def Leppard poured some shugah on her mood, Stephanie sang along with gusto. Sticky sweet, indeed!

She bent over and shook out her hair before gathering the whole mess into a wad and jamming it on top of her head with a fat clip. A short giggle burbled from her mouth when she straightened and eyed her wardrobe choices.

With a macho situation in need of special handling, she had chosen her armor carefully and for maximum affect. Same for the equipment.

Half an hour later, she was standing before a full-length mirror trying not to laugh her ass off. Poor Calder. He had no idea what was coming his way!

After a final glance out the window into the yard below, she hummed a happy tune and skipped downstairs. Everyone was where she wanted. In fact, the setting for her naughty housewife routine was nothing short of perfect.

Calder and Wolf did this thing every morning that he called walking the camino. Her surfer hippie husband was moved when as a younger man he walked the Camino de Santiago with Cristián and thereafter applied the term as a sort of spiritual keyword. They tromped along the edge of the property and talked about life and guy things while the dogs scampered nearby. It was so All-American perfect that she sometimes had to pinch herself to make sure it was real.

Afterward it was the habit of her boys to get comfy on the doublewide swing Draegyn built. There they enjoyed the morning ambience and had a lazy glide before the scorching heat drove everyone indoors.

She marched onto the stone patio and waved at them. The yard was two wide stone steps below the patio and extended quite far. The wooden swing was a short way from the steps situated in the shade beneath towering Ash trees.

The expression on Calder’s face, partially obscured by sunglasses, was exactly what she was going for. Something halfway between shock and lust. It was one of his best looks and always reminded her of their first incendiary clashes.

Since this was performance art and not a quick grab at the mini-mart, she went through the script she memorized.

First—a swig of water. While standing in profile. With the press of a button, the cap on her fancy water bottle popped open. She put her head back for effect and raised the bottle to suggestively pour the cool liquid into her mouth. She also nearly choked to death when one of the long pigtails she’d styled her hair into, brushed against her back and she fought back a laugh. Calder was a sucker for pigtails.

Water scene accomplished—check. She capped the bottle and set it on the patio at her feet.

Next came the fitting of the ear pods. He was also a sucker for technology in all forms. Tapping a pod, she said, “Good Morning, Siri. Calder’s playlist track four.”

Years of pageants gave Stephanie an usually eclectic soundtrack to play with. She probably knew more than a gal her age needed to know about Ludacris or Bone Thugs-n-Harmony, but this grasp of pop culture contributed to her ageless enjoyment of life.

This awareness when coupled with a stage professional’s ability to adapt any song to any situation, gave her a nearly limitless library of potential songs. Today’s backing track came from The Cult. And she didn’t care who found her choice odd. “Fire Woman” was a serious favorite from a poetic standpoint and for the general vibe and rock steady rhythm. In other words, tailor-made for what she was about to do.

Reaching for the modern version of a 1960’s icon—the hula hoop—she picked up the song’s beat and started out slow.

When she looked at Calder, his mouth was hanging open.

After a couple of slow hip circles, she sent the hoop up and over her head for a series of swirling, side-to-side arm tricks. There was a lot more to hula-hooping today than the simple rocking motion most girls learned as a kid.

Lacey’s exercise was pole gymnastics. The sexy part of what she did was the bonus.

Same for hula-hooping. What was once just a childhood pastime was now a performance art—and depending on the show, it could be fast and energetic or slow, mesmerizing, and seductive.

She chose the latter.

The hoop swung around her exposed waist. Dressed in skimpy gray biker shorts and a white T-shirt that she’d tied beneath her boobs, there was no doubt in her mind that she had her husband’s total attention. With her hair in pigtails and old school, classic white Keds Bobos on her feet, her look all but screamed cheerleader.

Undulating in slow motion one minute and then circling her hips the next, she worked up an enjoyable sweat as she moved through the sexed-up five-minute routine.

When she was finished, her heart was thumping, and she couldn’t stop staring at Calder’s obvious arousal. Tingles and throbs did lovely things throughout her body as she felt herself shift to pleasure mode.

She propped the hoop against the side of the house, removed the ear pods, and took another long swig of water; only this time when she finished and her head came forward, water dribbled from her mouth, down her chin and neck to soak the front of her T-shirt. Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she licked her lips and motioned her husband forward.

He was already walking in her direction and took the control right out of her hands with his commanding growl.

“Kiss your son, you naughty wench.”

She giggled and bussed Wolfie on his adorable face. “Naptime?” she innocently asked.

“What do you think?” he drawled while looking her over with lusty intent. “Give the dogs some water while I put him down. Then I want you naked and waiting. Understand?”

She grinned under his bold assessment. “Oh, I totally understand. Just two questions, though.”

His gaze slid south and stopped at her breasts.

“One. Where would my husband like his naked wife? Bedroom? Kitchen? Den?”

He snickered but didn’t answer.

“And two.” She made a pout and tugged at the ends of both braids. “Yes or no?”

“Hmm,” he growled. “Let me see.” He tugged on one braid and snarled. “These might come in handy if my dick is in your mouth. Leverage.” He sniggered. “Know what I mean?”

Oh, hell yeah, she knew what he meant and didn’t bother to wipe the interested smile off her face.

“As for where, Mrs. Dane,” he quipped in a throaty growl. “That was quite an exhausting routine. You look tired.”

She chuckled. “Not at all! But I wouldn’t object to a nice soft bed. Easier on the knees.”

“Whose?” he asked with a laugh. “Mine or yours?”

She fondled his hard flesh through his clothes and moaned her pleasure. “Both, if you play your cards right.”

He laughed, swatted her ass, and pushed her toward the door. “Move it, Duchess. His morning nap is only three hours, and I need every second for what I have planned.”

She melted into her panties so fast that she struggled to walk normally. Three hours? Oh, thank god she was married to a man who liked a gourmet meal as much as fast food.

* * *

“What are you doing here?” Sophie asked with a genuine laugh when a three-tap knock on her open office door drew her attention.

Jace’s smiling face made her giddy with all sorts of feelings. So too the way he swaggered when he walked especially since instead of a business suit he was rocking camo gear and looked like one of her brother’s warrior tribe.

“I needed a kiss from the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Her soul started happy dancing. “Well then you’d better walk your sexy butt over here.” She gestured at the work spread across her desk. “I’m a busy woman so hurry it up.”

“Harpie,” he growled.

“Boy toy,” she replied with a smirk.

His brow arched with challenge. “Meet me halfway?”

She peered over the edge of her desk as if she was calculating the distance. He barked with husky laughter and rushed her where she sat, lifting her from the chair and crushing her against his imposing body.

“It might be time for me to teach you a lesson or two!”

That was all he said before claiming her lips in a kiss that spiraled out of control far too quickly.

Kissed into embarrassed silence and not nearly satisfied, she fussed with her hair and found a spot near his throat to stare at. Anything was better than her mind-boggling reaction to his appearance.

She’d never really cared for Alex and his quasi-military macho crap-a-palooza out in the desert until this very second. Something about her hot guy and his outrageous cowboy ass stuffed into the Justice uniform was extremely appealing.

So too the way he challenged her to a sexy duel with his tongue.

They heard Teo squawk at the same time, then chuckled and rolled their eyes in unison.

“He knows when you come around,” she eagerly muttered.

His face lit up. “That’s my boy!”

After a quick kiss on her forehead, he went in search of the baby. Her heart fluttered. Jace Delacroix was an extraordinary father in an unusual situation. He treated Teo like a son—something that the people around her barely reacted to—despite the glaring omission of a formal aspect to their relationship.

Oh, Jesus. Wait a minute? Was that the sound of Sophia Marquez pining after a wedding ring? What the hell was happening?

She shook her head to dispel the sound of wedding bells and watched him engage with Teo.

Scooping him out of the Pack ‘n Play with complete disregard for her unhappy grunt, Jace cuddled the baby on his shoulder. Teo’s head wobbled and then steadied. He rubbed his face on his daddy’s cheek.

Oh, boy. There it was again. Jace as Teo’s father. If wishes were snowflakes, they’d be under an avalanche on this subject.

She heard words that weren’t intelligible to her ear. He was speaking French, of course, with some Corsican and Basque phrases thrown in. Language was one thing she dealt with running the winery, and she did okay until the lines blurred.

“What are you two plotting?” she asked with mock severity.

Her beautiful son turned toward her at the sound of her voice and grinned. Being a mother was more awesome than she ever imagined.

“I was just telling him what a wonderful mama he has and how lucky we are to have you.”

Possessive words, every one of them. But she wanted more. The words were no longer enough. The thought rattled her composure.

“Why are you dressed like G.I. Joe?”

“Alex thought I should experience a few sessions. See what Justice is all about.”

She frowned. That didn’t sound like her brother. Yeah, he was a pain in the ass, but he wasn’t into dress up. “Getting into trouble in the desert was Alex’s idea?”

Jace shrugged off her question with a smirk. “Okay, it was Domineau. I think she needs to prove that she’s the bigger badass.”

“Oh.” Sophie chuckled. “So you’re establishing her Justice legend, is that it?”

“Something like that. How I handle myself in the field has about as much importance to Justice as a Hobbit’s dick to an Amazon queen. Ms. Rivera, on the other hand, lives to scare the shit out of everyone. Some of the groups who have never experienced Justice before?” He laughed. “Does the expression ‘mud butt’ mean anything to you?”

Sophie loved his gentle sarcasm. He had a way of saying so much with so little. “Is that your way of saying the plumbing in the compound takes a punch?”

“What a great description.” He laughed. “Disgusting but great.”

They goo-goo and gah-gah’ed with Teo for a few minutes, and then she noticed Jace looking around.

“Has Angie come up with anyone for you to interview?”

Grrr. She didn’t like this subject. Needing an assistant and wanting one were two different things.

Same for a nanny. No fucking way.

His eyes were gentle and understanding as he spoke. “Babe, come on. It feels like you can do anything right now. And you can—we both know that. But Teo is easy at this age. Soon, he’s going to want more of you.”

Annoyed that his logic was sound, she pressed her lips together and looked away. She grumbled and didn’t care how it sounded.

“I don’t like when others are right.”

“I’m not others,” he softly murmured.

The reminder hit home, but she wasn’t ready to let it go.

“I don’t share well. It’s a family trait. Said so on all our report cards.”

He kissed her with his eyes before holding Teo tighter so he could lean in and brush her lips with his. When he pulled back, his gaze was as soft as a caress.

“I’m not asking you to share, Sophia. I’m asking you to hire an assistant to handle some of the workload. That’s all.”

Sensing that she was losing control of the argument, Sophie groused unhappily, “Putting my sister in charge of the process was a mistake.”

“Why? Because you fucked with her while she was on her honeymoon?”

Remembering the modest neck-to-toes nightgown and the other assorted accessories intended to drive her honeymooning sister crazy, she liked imagining Angie’s face when she unpacked that bag. That shit never got old.

Ever since, she’d half expected Parker to retaliate in kind. It was how they’d always dealt with each other. While they were growing up he was more than half-a-brother and they knew how to push the other’s buttons. But so far, he hadn’t risen to the occasion, and she never expected that motherhood would put a golden opportunity to mess with her in Angie’s capable hands.

A slow smile crept on her face. She pushed against Jace with her shoulder. “Come on. You have to admit it was funny.”

He laughed. “Oh, god, it was totally hilarious. Nicely done, by the way. But I wouldn’t be worried about Angie. Nobody knows you like she does, and even if she tries to start something, it might end up being for your own good.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m just saying that we shouldn’t discount your sister’s input. She’d never do anything to harm you. Or Teo. Sure, she’ll probably make you squirm in some way, but that’s not always a bad thing. We need to be challenged in order to grow.”

She smirked. “Think you’re so damn smart, don’t you?”

He smirked back.

Her snort of disbelief was funny even to her.

“Using the term ‘we’ to take the wind from my sails and that bumper sticker crap—we need to be challenged to grow! Are you for real?”

He shut her down with a single statement.

“You and Teo are all that matter to me, Sophia.”

Their eyes locked. She hesitated and then blurted out what she was thinking.

“If that’s true, then why haven’t we slept together?”

“I thought we covered this previously,” he drawled.

“Refresh my memory,” she responded.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Her eyebrows rose with curiosity. “Yes.”

“Sophia Isabel Camiña Valleja-Marquez,” he pronounced with charming sweetness, “we will sleep together when you are ready to make love—and not before. Until then, we make out like horny kids.”

Ah, yes. The making love condition. Plain old sex wasn’t good enough. At first, she was relieved that he wasn’t going to press the issue, but now she regretted ever taking a stand because as a result, she faced a classic conundrum. How to climb off the ledge without making a fool of herself.

“What if I said you had to put a ring on it? Maybe I’m an old-fashioned girl. No fooling around till the vows are said.”

“An old-fashioned girl?” he barked. Gesturing to Teo, he smirked. “And I suppose IVF is the old-fashioned answer to becoming a mommy?”

He deflected with a joke and earned her grimace. Dammit. This relationship stuff was hard.

An unexpected pout—a real one—shook her up. She wasn’t that girl—a pouter.

The silence lasted only a few seconds, but it felt longer. Finally, his tight expression relaxed.

“What would you say if I whipped a ring out of my pocket right this second?”

“Honestly?” she murmured. “I’d say yes.”

“Then we’re making progress.”

“What’s holding things up?” she asked.

“The L word,” he succinctly replied. “Hear it, say it, mean it.”

She looked at her precious son in Jace’s arms and saw the future looking back. All she had to do was be brave. When she took the leap, he’d be there to catch her.

He handed the baby to her and kissed Sophie’s cheek.

“In case you’re interested, I’m partial to October.”

Huh? “The month?”

“Yup. Thirty-one days of autumn awesomeness.”

Why was he telling her this? His birthday was in July and hers was November. Teo was born in May.

“I’m out, m’lady,” he announced with a glance at his watch. “Thank you for the kiss and fascinating conversation. What say we continue this over dinner? Let’s go to Pete’s. We can relax, talk, and spy on my cousin and Finn at the same time.”

He didn’t wait for her answer. “I’ll pick you up. Message me later. When you’ve wrapped up here. Okay?”