“I have to takemedia classesjust to date you. I’m aware that I’m not wrong.”
“You changing your mind?”
“No. Never.” I squeeze his hand back and smile. “Just realizing that thisbeing bravething is going to have to start sooner than expected.”
“If she tries to imply I have to pick between the two of you, I’m picking you.”
“Would she do that?”
He shakes his head. “She’s overprotective, for good reason, but she’s not stupid.”
“Okay.” I nod. Nod again. Ignore the butterflies and hummingbirds and possibly a full-size crow or two starting to flutter around my stomach. “When?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“Bash had a bath last night, and I’m already showered. So you tell me when you’re—oh, wait. Let’s let him finish.”
Jonas finally looks away from me and out at Bash, who’s gone totally still in the yard with an intense look of concentration on his face.
I put a finger to my nose and whisper, “Not it.”
And when Jonas swings a raised-brow, parted-lips look back at me, I double over in laughter.
Will I happily change Bash’s diaper?
Yes.
But Jonas’s startled expression at losing a game he didn’t even know we were playing?
I might have some of those Monroe male genes in me too.
Just a little.
And when that amused smile overtakes his handsome features again? Coupled with his sigh and his, “Only fair, isn’t it?”
I swore I’d never fall in love again.
That I was over men.
But Jonas?
He’s worth it.
39
Jonas
“We don’t haveto do this today,” I tell Emma as she finishes checking the supplies in Bash’s diaper bag. “Today’s been good. Great.Fantastic. Making her wait won’t make it worse. Might even make it better. Show her who has the power.”
“It’s like you didn’t meetmyfamily at an ambush cookout and let them take you camping where I hear you suffered some intestinal distress you never told me about,” she replies.
“Just suffering what I deserved to prove I’m here for real. No running away. Not like last time. Also, no one wants to hear about what your brother’s stash of camp food can do to a person.”
“Mama, whatam-buf?” Bash asks. He’s racing cars over the bright red-patterned rug in the middle of the living room.
“Ambush? It’s…a surprise. But not always a good surprise.”
“Wike Unca Deo?”
