Page 49 of His Texas Claim

"Doesn't match me."

"It does. You love frogs now."

I didn't argue with that one, mostly because it was true, and mostly because Bryn was grinning at me over the rim of her lemonade like she already knew I wouldn't.

Millie caught my eye from across the room, Bea's littlest sibling on her hip, and gave me the kind of look that had been aimed at me all afternoon — soft, a little disbelieving, like she still couldn't quite square the man in front of her with the one who used to sit at the edge of every family gathering instead of the middle of it.

"You good?" she asked, drifting over.

"Good."

"You're smilin'."

"Ain't smilin'."

"You are. It's freakin' me out a little."

Peggy swept past with a tray of deviled eggs before I could answer, pausing just long enough to press a kiss to my cheek, quick and fierce.

"Proud of you," she said, already moving on to referee whatever argument Dakota and Sawyer had started over the gift table. "Don't let it go to your head."

Bryn caught my hand as I made my way back to her, tugging me down onto the couch beside her, tired in the specific way she got by mid-afternoon these days, contented despite it.

"Having fun?" she asked.

"More than I figured I would."

"Told you. Family's good for you." She reached over and took my hand to thread her fingers through mine, then placed it on her belly. “Good for the tadpole too.”

I felt our son kick against my knuckles, casting a soft smile her way.

She caught it, that look, and squeezed my hand.

"He's excited," she said. "Kicks harder when it's loud in the room."

"Little troublemaker already."

"Wonder where he'd get that from."

"Not me."

"Definitely you." She tipped her head back against the couch, watching the room instead of me for a second…then she tilted her head toward the door. “Forgive me.”

I frowned. “What?”

Then I followed her gaze.

Frowned again.

My youngest brother Cooper was standing at the door, hands shoved into his pockets. No one had really noticed him yet—other than my Aunt Peggy, who seemed intent on kicking him right back out. My mother caught her arm and they exchanged a couple words, then Mom looked pointedly at Bryn.

My eyes slid back to my wife.

“Did you…”

"I invited him," Bryn said. "Three weeks ago. Got his number off your mother."

"Bryn—"