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“Annie?” my ma calls from the kitchen. “Can you help me in here?”
Blanca moves to stand and shoo Annie down, but Ma must give her a look because she sits back down. “You’re being called, lucky lady.”
Annie leaves, and I hate that I miss her. It’s ridiculous. She’s literally fifteen feet from me.
Blanca sets her gaze on me. “I think it’s bachelor game over for someone.”
Carm and Dom lean in.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Please, you’re canceling Sunday dinners for her. I called it the first time I saw them together.” Dom puts his hands up as if it’s no contest who the winner is.
Carm tilts his head. “The problem is, will he admit it?”
“You guys are a bunch of dipshits.” I head to the kitchen to grab a beer and throw away my empty one.
Mom is teaching Annie how to roll a meatball.
“She’s really good with her hands, Ma,” I say with a wink.
Annie’s eyes narrow and Ma shakes her head, understanding the sexual innuendo.
Who’s teaching her that crap?
Watching Annie in my world is an eye-opener, because I always thought I’d never want to introduce anyone to my family. But with Annie, it’s the opposite. I kind of like her everywhere in my world.
* * *
“How doesyour mom have the energy for that?” Annie lies down on the opposite side of the couch from me. “I mean, prepping, cooking, cleaning. She must sleep for three days straight afterward.”
“She likes to take care of us,” I say.
Annie bolts up to her knees and stares at me.
“What?”
She points at me. “You boys need to help her.”
I put up my hands. “Her and Blanca do it. I’m not messing with tradition.”
“You’re going to help her next Sunday.”
I grab her finger and pull her down to me. “Only if you come. Wanna see my childhood home?”
She stares into my eyes and places her hand on my cheek. “Are you sure about that, bachelor boy?”
“Completely.” I pull her in for a kiss.
The kiss grows out of control, and soon she’s straddling me and grinding along my growing bulge. I’m never going to get enough of this woman.
When my hands slide up her stomach, she jumps off me. “Condom campaign.”
I groan. She’s kidding me, right? She wonders why we haven’t been on a date. We’re both workaholics.
“Tomorrow,” I say.
But I don’t need to hear the word no to figure out she’s not going to relent.
