Page 90 of Serving Bunt

“See,” he murmured against my lips. “Safety’s sexy.”

We stayed like that for a while, trading soft kisses and teasing touches beneath the surface until Diaz hooked an arm around my waist and spun me, making me squeal as water splashed around us. I retaliated by tossing him backward into the water, only for him to surface seconds later, laughing. He pulled me back against his chest, peppering my neck and shoulders with kisses.

We were both half hard and giggling when Mo wandered over to the edge of the pool, staring down at us with zero interest in joining the fun. She barked once, and then a second time. Short, sharp sounds that clearly meant she was done waiting.

“Inside, Mo,” I called out.

She stared back at me like I had just ordered her to the guillotine.

Diaz chuckled against my back.

“Go inside, princess,” I pleaded with her, softening my voice this time. “Please. It’s bedtime.”

She gave one last dramatic huff, then turned and trotted toward the back door.

“God forbid you ever have kids, tesoro. They’ll have you wrapped around their tiny fingers in five minutes flat.”

“Excuse you,” I said, shoving him playfully. “I already have a child. Her name is Mo.”

He settled onto his back, treading water as he floated in place. For a second, an image flashed through my mind—Diaz in this very pool, laughing as he carried a little girl on his shoulders through the water. Her tiny fingers gripped his shaved head for balance while she squealed with delight.

It looked so natural. Like he’d been born for it.

I cleared my throat and tapped his foot to get his attention.

“Do you want any?” I asked quietly.

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Kids.”

Diaz went still.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I do.”

He rolled upright and swam closer until he was standing in front of me. His hands settled on my waist beneath the surface.

“Growing up gay kind of prepared me for the idea that the whole parenting thing might not happen,” he admitted. “Especially not with a career like ours. I always wanted kids, though. Still do. I just didn’t know if I was allowed to picture that future for myself.”

Something in my chest tightened.

“Allowed?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “When you’re young, you absorb a lot of messages without realizing it. You hear enough people tell you what your life is supposed to look like, even if they have the best intentions, and eventually you stop imagining anything else.”

His thumb brushed against my side.

“It felt like a weird kind of grief. Mourning something I never actually had.” His mouth twisted into a sad smile. “I’m sure you of all people can understand that.”

I nodded.

“But then,” he continued, his expression softening. “I got older. I met people who were raising kids and building families that didn’t look like the ones I grew up around but were just as beautiful. And I realized my family might just look a little different.”

“Louder, probably.”

He tilted his head back and barked out a laugh. “Definitely.”

“With a kid or two?” I pressed.