I turned so I could see him better. “I took the partnership offer.”
A slow, sexy smile started to crinkle around his eyes. “So, you’ll need a place to live.”
“And, I’ll be very busy at first, so I’ll need someone to cook for me too.”
“Done. I’ll hire someone.”
At that, I laughed.
Brett lowered himself to the ground and knelt between my legs. The blanket slid down to my waist and he pushed it aside. I grabbed it and covered myself back up.
“Listen, before we continue, I want to ask you something.”
Distracted, he kissed the inside of my knee. “Go.”
I grabbed his head. “Pay attention.”
His hands ran up the side of my thighs and he grinned. “You have my full attention.”
I knew I didn’t, but I was going to ask anyway. “Do you want to come to a wedding with me?”
“Ours?” he smiled. “Of course I will attend.” He gripped my hips, squeezing them gently.
“My sister.” I stared into his beautiful golden eyes.
He pushed my legs farther apart. “Mm. Sure. You gonna tell me who she’s marrying?” he said, seemingly unconcerned.
I waited just a second. “Clay McCarron.”
He stilled. “Bruins’ goalie?”
I nodded, trying not to smile.
“I thought you said he played for the Avalanche.” His hands rested at my hips.
I shook my head. “You assumed.”
Then he threw his head back and laughed. “That’s perfect. That’s fucking beautiful.” His laugh settled, and then started all over again. “So, Clay is going to be my brother-in-law?”
“I guess if you’re asking me to marry you, he will be.”
He laughed again. “That was a given.”
“So, you’ll come with me?”
He lowered his head and kissed his way up my thigh. “Oh yeah, I’ll come with you. Now let’s stop talking. I need to love you.”
And love me, he did.
Epilogue
Four and half years later
“Mommy, watch.” BJscreamed as he barreled through the house with a hockey stick. “I’m gonna be the booty, just like daddy.”
“BJ, what did I tell you about playing hockey in the house?” I said to my oldest boy as I bounced my youngest, Ranger, on my hip. He pulled on my hair as I pulled the Cheerios box out of the cupboard. I poured a handful onto the highchair tray for my middle boy, Sawyer. He beat on the tray, pinched a handful of circles and shoved them in his mouth.
“You aren’t going to be a hockey player too, are you?” He grinned and slobber ran out of his mouth. I rubbed his head. To BJ, I added in a less gentle tone, “Please watch out for the tree.”