I looked around and fought to keep my emotions from getting the best of me.
It was suddenly so loud in that house that I couldn't even hear myself think. Mil and Chase were arguing. Typical. Mo was punching Tex in the shoulder repeatedly. Andi was singing the Russian national anthem. Frank was finding more wine — smart man. Nixon and Trace were kissing, moving on, and Ax and Amy were opening the fridge. Phoenix was trying to pry the chips away from Bee, and Chase was reaching past Mil to grab them.
"So," Andi said loudly, "you guys are all staying the night or what?"
The room fell silent.
"What?" She looked around. "Did you not like my rendition of mother Russia?"
Chase bit down on a Cheeto. "Doesn't matter how loud you sing it, honey. You're Italian now."
"Oh really?" Andi's face lit up. "How do you figure?"
"You fight like hell." Tex nodded in appreciation. "Married one of our men… risked your life to save his. I'd say you're more Italian than Russian."
Andi beamed. "Does that mean I have to drink wine now?"
"You and your vodka," I muttered.
"Admit it." Chase chuckled. "You scrunch up your nose at wine to piss Sergio off."
Andi grinned. "Guilty."
"Real mature, Andi." I wrapped my arms around her from behind and set my chin on her head.
"So…" Andi shrugged. "…you guys are here for a while then?"
Thank God, she didn't say the end.
"Yup." Nixon nodded. "Now what's for dinner?"
All eyes fell to Chase.
"Damn it." Chase slammed his hand onto the counter. "I'm not your bitch. You can't make me cook every night!"
Mil whispered something in his ear.
Chase's grin grew to epic proportions. "Homemade lasagna okay?"
Phoenix groaned. "I don't even want to know what my sister just uttered."
"Nope." Chase bit down on his lip and started swiveling his hips. "But just so you know. We're trying to get pregnant… and we're trying really, really, really hard."
"Say hard again," Tex joked.
"Hard," Chase whispered, this time in Phoenix's ear.
Phoenix raised his hand to smack Chase away, but Nixon intervened. "So lasagna."
"Buzzkill," Chase accused.
Frank moved to the middle of the room. "There is not enough wine."
"What?" I frowned. "I have an entire cellar."
Fighting erupted again. I could have sworn I saw Chase pull out a gun on Phoenix. I turned to Frank and nodded. "I'll make some calls."
"Good man." He patted my shoulder. "Good man."
CHAPTER FORTY
Andi
CHASE WAS AN EXCELLENT COOK. IF I hadn't already been dying, his homemade lasagna would have seriously done me in. The room was buzzing with conversation and laughter — it felt like a real family. One I was a part of.
Frank had already gone upstairs for the evening. Apparently, his being old meant he was not only allowed his own bottle of wine during dinner — but also an eight o'clock bed time.
Bee yawned and put her head on Phoenix. "Bed?"
"It's eight," Chase pointed out.
Mil whispered something else in his ear.
He gripped her by the butt and heaved her over his shoulder. "Which I've always said is the perfect time to hit the sack." He slapped her ass and moved out of the large dining room.
Everyone else made similar excuses. I knew what they were doing, giving me and Sergio some time together.
Sergio walked over to me and slid our honeymoon list across the table. "Pick one."
"Only one?" I jutted out my lower lip. "How about two?"
His blue eyes narrowed as a few pieces of long hair fell across his face. I loved that he was growing it out; it made him look even more like the duke from my romance novels. "Fine, two."
"So I say we work on number four out of our thirteen? And…" I tapped my chin. "…this one."
His eyebrows shot up. "You've really never done that?"
"Have you?" I countered.
"If I say yes, will you judge me?"
"Absolutely."
"In my defense, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about." He crossed his arms.
"Oh really?"
He swore. "Fine, up you go."
He walked over to my chair and lifted me into his arms, carrying me effortlessly into his giant media room. It wasn't just a theatre room. It was like an actual theatre, with games lining the walls, movie posters, a full bar, and a hot tub.
Semi-ridiculous. Then again, I imagined he had enough money that it had just seemed practical. Why party outside the house when you can have the party inside?
"Pick your poison." He sat me on the leather couch and walked over to the bar.
"Hmm… in my fantasies, all the bartenders are shirtless."
Without arguing he peeled the shirt off his body and braced his hands against the counter. "Better?"
"Hmm…" I rubbed my lips together. "…flex."
He glared.
"Flex!" I shouted. "It's part of the list."
"The hell it is," he grumbled then flexed.
"I really like your abs." I tilted my head. "They're tight. How do they get so tight? And your ass…" I fanned my face. "C'mon, turn around and bend over."