"No, you cannot." Chance lifts my left hand to kiss the diamond ring glittering on my third finger. "You're my slave, remember?"
"How could I forget?"
Kyle snorts. "Oh please. Will you two ever get over the slave thing? It was cute in the beginning, but I'm about ready to report Chance to the cops for running a sex trafficking ring."
Yeah, ever since Chance and I got engaged, Kyle has relished every opportunity to torment us with sarcasm.
Chance's brothers are no better.
"Where can I get my own slave?" Reese asks, still turning the ball in his hands. "I've asked for volunteers, but oddly, nobody wants to sign on for the job. How did you ever convince Elena to serve you?"
"She doesn't serve him," Dane says. "She services him, like an old car that needs constant maintenance."
"And plenty of lubrication," Reese adds with a sly grin and a wink.
"That's enough," Chance says. "You've harassed the Americans enough. Give them at least an hour to recover before you start in again."
Looking at Chance, who's sweaty and smeared with dirt, I can't resist. I have to say, "You need a shower, honey. Your personal mechanic insists on it."
"Give him a good wash and wax, Elena," Rees says, tossing the ball onto the lawn. "I need some maintenance too."
I lay my hand on Chance's thigh. "Sorry, I only service one vehicle."
"Enough car jokes," Chance says. He gets up and offers me his hand. "Let's go, love. I'm feeling filthy."
I let him lead me into the house and to the bathroom. Within thirty seconds, we're both naked. I thank heaven the Dixons have a large bathroom with a shower plenty big enough for me and my honey.
He grabs a bar of soap. "You first."
Chance and I have showered together many times, since we moved to a house in New Hampshire that has a generous-size shower. We've got our law practice there too. Sure, I'm the lowly paralegal in the eyes of most people. But Chance and I are partners in every way that counts---at work, at home, and in our hearts.
A few months ago, in a hotel bar, I'd been offered one hot Chance and taken it. I will never regret that. And yeah, that pun is intentional.
During lunch, we all talk about the wedding. It's in two weeks, and we're having it in America so Chance's family can see our home in New Hampshire. They've never been to America before, since Chance always flew to England to see them---because Raisa hadn't wanted to entertain guests. I'm looking forward to hosting the Dixons, and our house is plenty big enough to hold Chance's parents and brothers along with Kyle and his girlfriend, not to mention our friends.
When I explain about the guest rooms in our house, Reese says, "You used to live in New York City, didn't you? That's where you met Chance."
"Yes, I shared an apartment with the most annoying roommate ever," I reply, flashing Kyle a sarcastic grin. "That would be my darling brother."
Kyle points his fork at me. "Watch it, sister. I know what you and Chance used to do on the living room sofa."
I expect Reese to make an off-color joke, but instead he says, "I'd love to see New York."
The conversation moves on to other wedding-related topics.
Later, Reese corners me and Chance in the sitting room.
"About your apartment," he says to me. "Have you given it up? Or rented it to someone else?"
"No, I haven't sublet it or given it up. Kyle might want to live there over the summer, before he goes back to the dorm in the fall."
Reese studies both me and Chance for several seconds, then he asks, "Could I stay there?"
"At my apartment?" I glance at my fiancé, but Chance simply shrugs. He's leaving the decision up to me. I tell Reese, "Sure, I guess you can do that. We left all the furniture there, so it'll be kind of like a cozy hotel."
"You mean it?" Reese asks. "I can stay there?"
"It's all yours."