Page 112 of Regards, Mia

“You love it.” Her tongue darts out, licking into my mouth.

"Mia." My hands slide down her bare shoulders. “Don't start."

She angles her head to kiss me deeper, sliding her hot tongue into my mouth and slipping her fingers through my hair. “Don’t start what?” she asks, practically climbing into my lap. “It’s not my fault you smell like that.”

“Like what?” I’m not wearing cologne, so I have no idea what she’s talking about.

She disengages her seatbelt and leans over the console, her hand sliding up my leg. “You smell like a man who is going to let me drive his motorcycle.”

I reach down and stop her hand, circling her wrist with my fingers. “I don’t let anyone drive my motorcycle.”

“Except me.” She wriggles her hand out of my grasp and lightly trails her fingers over the growing bulge in my pants. “You will let me drive it, right?”

There’s not a chance in hell Mia is driving my bike, but I’m enjoying her trying to persuade me too much to argue.

A knock on the driver’s window makes us jerk apart. “Fucking hell,” Mia says. “It’s Brad.”

Brad Shelton pulls Mia’s door open and pokes his perfectly styled blonde head into the car. “Get a room,” he says, cracking up at his own joke.

Mia scowls. “Do you remember my annoying cousin?” she asks.

It’s hard to forget one of the most famous men in Hollywood. “What’s he doing here?”

“I’m filming in Savannah,” he says. “A quirky romantic comedy about a time-traveling werewolf and his sidekick witch.”

“Which one are you?” Mia asks, letting Brad help her out of the car.

He folds her in a hug. “Shut up, cuz.”

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” she asks.

“Definitely a boy,” he says. “How about you, Sanchez? Got a guess?”

“I’m just here for the cake,” I say, shaking his hand. “Anna with you?”

“She’s at a runway show in Paris.”

My shoulders relax. Anna makes me nervous. She got a little too close into my personal space at the wedding, and I’m pretty sure she was hitting on me in the drink line.

Brad leads the way into the house, and we are greeted by a dozen family members as soon as we cross the threshold. It’s just as hectic and wonderful as I remember.

Mia is passed around for hugs, and everyone seems pleased to see me.

Owen wants to know if I’ve got time for a game of golf tomorrow, Brad wants another selfie, and Mia’s mom corners me in the kitchen to ask me when Mia and I are going to tie the knot.

Mia and I never talk about marriage. The subject makes her prickly, so I tend to avoid any references.

“Come outside!” Mia bursts into the kitchen, grabbing my arm. “We’re doing the gender reveal.”

Everyone makes their way outside, where Samantha is lined up on the opposite side of the yard with a baseball in her hand. Mia leads me over to stand near her brother, who is holding a bat.

“There’s powder in the baseball,” Mia explains. “When Max hits it with the bat, it will explode in either pink or blue.”

I nod, trying to wrap my mind around the huge production. We drove four hours for this party, so I won’t speak a negative word about it, but in my mind, it’s a tad excessive. Why not just wait until the baby comes and be surprised?

Mia grabs my hand, pulling me close to her side as Samantha winds up her pitching arm. I transfer my gaze from the mom-to-be to Mia. She’s looking at me, and something passes between us. I know that no matter what happens in our lives, I want us to be together. Kids and marriage might not be in the cards for us, but that doesn’t mean shit.

We are not bound by the rules of society. We make our own rules.

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