I take the plate.
Cory, the tallest one here, bends over to look me in the eyes. “Choose wisely.”
“High stakes,” I say, already inspecting the color of the barbecue sauce.
Before I tuck in, Freya slips in beside me and steals a rib straight off my plate.
“He might be the chef in our house,” she says, pointing the rib at her cousins, “butI’mthe judge.”
She turns to me and drags her gaze down the length of my still-wet torso like I’m the one winning the contest right now.
I take the other rib from the plate. “Two mouths are better than one.”
Micah pulls a face. “Should I be telling y’all to get a room?”
Freya laughs and takes a bite. She considers the flavors,nodding, brows furrowed. I taste mine, and then we swap ribs.
“Go on then,” Micah says.
Freya swallows. “Okay.”
Micah and Cory lean in.
She wiggles the rib between her fingers. “This one.”
Cory groans. “Unbelievable.”
I glance down at my own plate. “I liked this one.”
Both of them stare at us, unimpressed that we’ve settled nothing.
“You two?” Micah points his finger between us. “No taste. None.”
Freya tilts her head with a smile. “This sounds like a you problem.”
Freya takes my plate from me and hands it back to her cousins, then reaches for my hand. “I’m stealing him while we’re baby-free.”
She tugs me through the crowd and doesn’t stop until we reach some sun loungers tucked into a far corner, close enough to hear the party, but far enough to breathe. I drop into one, stretching my legs out, and she settles onto the edge, draping her leg over mine so she doesn’t slide off.
Her arm loops around my neck. Mine finds her lower back and the top of her womanly ass.
The sun shines warmly on our moment.
This—all this family, laughter, kids laughing and squealing around us—is heaven.
I let my hand rest at her waist, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin strap of that coral bikini that should be illegal on anyone, let alone my fiancée.
She leans in and kisses me warmly, then pulls back and wipes off some of the vanilla gloss she left on my lips.
“Those two better hope you never enter the contest,” she says. “Those ribs had nothing on yours.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “That’s what your mom said. But it was Luis’s recipe.” My thumb rubs a slow circle at her hip. “I just followed instructions.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Why are you always so humble?”
Her chestnut eyes warm with seduction. Damn, this woman is trouble.
“I have a secret for you.” Her fingers curl around my shoulder as she leans closer, her lips skim my earlobe. “It’s not the recipe.”
