Allie strokes her chin. “My yoga clients do rave about those power bowls you sell.”
“See?” Raul says, nodding.
“I like that plan.” Miguel nods. “It’s something we definitely need to think on. But first, I want to know what the hell’s going on with the legal side of things.”
“Toni’s off to school, guys.” Allie takes Toni by the hand, and they head to the bus. I’m glad someone’s paying attention. It’s nice to have friends like sisters.
When the door shuts behind them, Miguel begins to roll up his sleeves. Mmmm. Those arms. Those corded, muscled arms dotted with fine dark hair. I want them wrapped around my body. I want him holding me down, while he—
“Samantha?”
“Mmm?”
“I asked you if you had any questions, baby,” Miguel says. Goddammit, I’m still staring at those fantastic arms of his. “Have you heard anything else?”
The way his eyes twinkle, he knows my mind was totally in the gutter. Again. I yank it back to civilization and fill them in on everything I know. “Both Michelle and Ricardo are in custody. Michelle claims that Ricardo isn’t Toni’s father, that he put her up to it to try to swindle you out of money. She doesn’t know who Toni’s father is.” I blow out a breath. “Michelle’s also young enough that she was indeed a minor when Toni was born, so if the courts can prove Ricardo had anything to do with Michelle, he’s screwed.”
“Good,” Miguel mutters. “Teach him a lesson. Son of a bitch.”
“And given the current state of affairs, with Michelle in custody facing charges of neglect and having to battle with the courts over what she faces…”
Miguel nods. The overhead light catches his eyes, making them look like fragments of obsidian. “I get permanent custody.”
I should be happy. I should want this for both of them. But why I do I feel left out? We’re a unit. A crazy, haphazard little unit, the three of us. And I don’t want to make the choice not to be.
Miguel’s eyes meet mine across the room. His body’s rigid, his gaze hyper-focused on me. He’s as serious as I’ve ever seen him, and there’s a panty-melting tone of command in his voice when he says, “Come here, Samantha.”
Not Sam. Not babe.
Samantha.
My full name, each syllable pronounced in that deep, dark, sexy-as-melted-chocolate tone of his.
Swoon.
I meet his gaze. “Say please,” I whisper.
There’s the faintest twinge of a smile on his lips that promises I’ll pay later for challenging him.
Zing.
“Please, baby,” he whispers, voice husky. “Now.” I walk to him slowly, not breaking his gaze.
“Awww.” Allie, back from the bus stop, clasps her hands beneath her chin. She’s a hopeless romantic, and it seems she’s forgiven Miguel for his supposed infractions.
“Now that is how you bring a girl to heel,” Madison mutters. Raul reaches for one of her braids and gives it a teasing tug.
“I’ll remember that.”
She yanks her hair out of his grasp and gives him a frosty glare. “You have some groveling to do, mister.”
Okay, so that crooked smile thing apparently runs in the family.
“I can grovel.”
“He can definitely grovel,” Miguel promises. He grabs me around the waist and pulls me over to him. “So can I.”
My heart thunders. The room quiets. He traces his fingers beneath my chin and leans in for a gentle kiss. My heart flutters like hummingbird wings. “I’m sorry. I should have talked to you. I should’ve made sure there was no threat against you. I made a mistake, and I’m really, truly, sincerely sorry.”
I nod. “And I’m sorry I made assumptions, too.”
Raul does a slow golf clap, and Madison smacks his arm. Allie wipes away a tear before she pulls out orange juice and champagne. “I want a mimosa. Anyone else want a mimosa?” I grab a scone.
Madison pulls out these huge goblet things that look like you could bathe a small kitten in them, and the mimosas begin to flow.
“Two bridesmaids and one best man,” Miguel says. “What do you think, Samantha?”
I pause, mid-butter sweep, my scone held in the air while Allie and Madison gawk.
“And one little flower girl,” I whisper.
“Done deal.”
I take a bite of my scone so I can swallow the sudden need to cry.
“When?” I say around a mouthful of crumbs.
“Today works for me,” he says with that grin he wields like a sharpened blade, slaying my heart and any hope of resistance.
“Give me a day or two to pull a few things together, big guy.” I take another bite of my scone.
“Wait. Does this mean what I think it means?” Allie’s on her second mimosa.
“Marry me, Samantha. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. We fit together, and you know it.”
“This is, like, a negotiating proposal?”
He nods. “How’m I doing?”
“Hmm,” I say, tapping my chin. “Pretty damn good. I am, after all, the pepperoni to your pizza. And the bread to your butter.”