“Lee Lee,” she squeals.
“Hi, Dolly.” I scoop her up and swing her in a circle, Disney princess style. “How’s my favorite girl?”
“Hey, I thought I was your favorite girl.” Joey darts around the corner and hugs me, squishing Bea between us.
My niece remains glued to my hip while I embrace Dad, Asher, and Cam. I’m hit with question after question in such quick succession I can’t consider a single one, so I promise to answer them after I’ve had a drink.
“Mimosa or Bloody Mary?” my dad asks, taking Bea from my arms.
“Mimosa.” Rather than let him wait on me, I shuffle to the bar cart and pour orange juice and champagne into a flute, drink a little, then top it off with another splash of bubbly.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a french toast casserole,” a familiar voice calls from around the corner.
Heart in my throat, I whip around. “Ezra?”
He comes into view, and behind him, Kane appears.
“Hey, buddy.” I immediately pass Ezra and wrap his brother up in a hug. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“You what?” Ezra says.
Before I can answer, introductions are being made at thekitchen island, where handshakes are thrown out the window and hugs reign.
When Asher and Ezra fall into conversation, I pull my mom to the side. “You invited him?”
“No, you did.” She tilts her head, inspecting me like she’s worried I have amnesia.
“What? No I didn’t.”Who would have—“Josefine Noa Connelly,” I whisper-yell.
“Whoa, Connelly. I like the sound of that.” Cam appears at the counter.
Joey playfully smacks him in the chest. “We’re not married yet, silly boy.”
“You might as well be,” I say.
The two share a sweet, contemplative look.
In the silence of the moment, I remember why I called her over in the first place. “Did you tell my mom I invited Ezra?”
Brow furrowed, she frowns. “No.”
Huh. I actually believe her. “Then who?”
“I did,” my dad chimes in on my mom’s other side. “I wanted to meet the man who took such good care of my little girl.”
My stomach sinks. Oh, hetook careof me, all right.
Across the kitchen, Ezra is crouched, laughing at Bea as she yammers on. The way his eye crinkles at the side is like a blow to the chest. God, he’s so good-looking.
As if he can feel my gaze, he pivots on the balls of his feet, still squatting, and locks eyes with me. He shoots me a quick grin, but then he quickly focuses on Bea again, holding an arm out so she can give his fist a bump. It’s then that I notice his ring finger is bare and my stomach clenches involuntarily.
He comes to stand in front of me, his bare feet bumping into mine. He’s wearing dark jeans, despite the sweltering temperature, and a sage green short-sleeve button-down with palm leaves stitched into an abstract pattern. The one I bought him at aboutique on Oahu. His curls are wild and free, and his beard is perfectly trimmed.
“Hi.” Though I’m hit with the urge to pet his cheek and revel in the feel of his scruff, a shyness like I’ve never experienced takes over. It’s ridiculous, really. We sexted, and I orgasmed over the phone just a few days ago, but seeing him in my parents’ kitchen is throwing me off.
He plants a chaste kiss on my cheek. The move could be considered platonic if he didn’t grope my ass at the same time. No one is behind me, yet I still scan for witnesses.
“I take it you didn’t know we were coming?” he asks.
