“My seven-year-old isn’t very hip on kisses these days.” He sits up, kiss me, and rests, panting just a bit. “How do you exercise so hard, and you’re barely out of breath?”

He shrugs and takes a sip of the water bottle that was sitting by his feet. “I’ve been doing it a long time.”

“I’d want to die by now.”

“No you wouldn’t. You’re a tiny thing.”

“I’m petite, but that doesn’t mean I’m in shape, it just means my mom passed on good genetics.”

“True enough.” He lies back and begins another long set of sit-ups, kissing me with each one. I really should go inside in case any of the guests come back and need something, but this is so…fun. “Okay. One more round of push-ups.”

He assumes the position on the mat on the floor.

“Instead of sitting on my shoulders, you can lie on me. It’ll be easier for your balance.”

“I think you just want me to lie on you.”

He flashes me a smile. “Guilty.”

I climb on him, face down, and wrap my arms around his torso, cross my ankles so my feet don’t get in his way, and lay my cheek between his shoulder blades, enjoying the ride as he effortlessly and quickly executes fifty push-ups.

I’m actually disappointed when it’s time to climb off of him.

“I almost fell asleep.”

“I’m glad one of us did,” he says, breathing heavily. “I’m done for the day.”

“How is your shoulder feeling?”

“Good.” He rolls his shoulder, rubbing it with his opposite hand. “There’s no more ache.”

“That’s great.”

Does that mean you’ll leave soon?

I should ask the question, but I don’t want to know the answer. Not yet.

“You okay?” He tips my chin up gently and searches my face.

“I’m great.” I offer him a smile and turn my face into his hand, kiss his palm, and then pull away. “I should just go in and get a little work done.”

“Need any help?”

The best part about this man? Aside from the smoking hot body and the sex? He’s sincere. He’s a millionaire, but helping me with menial household tasks is a no-brainer for him, just like it is for my family, and that is very, very attractive to me.

Maybe too attractive, because I could get used to it. And that’s not good.

“I’ve got it handled. I also need to take a trip to the grocery to pick up a couple things. Do you mind keeping an eye on Sam?”

“We could all go.”

I shake my head. No, I need a break from all the testosterone flying around here.

“It’ll be really quick. I just need a couple things.”

He tips his head to the side, watching me carefully, but then he just kisses my forehead and nods. “No problem.”

***

“Mom, I’m bored.”

I roll my eyes and continue chopping celery for the tuna salad. “Baseball camp starts on Monday.”

“That’s, like, four days away. What am I supposed to do for four days?”

“Read? Ride your bike? Clean that pit you call a bedroom?”

“None of that is fun.” He lowers his head to his arms, sulking at the breakfast bar.

“I don’t think that’s true. Besides, Uncle Beau will be around over the weekend and you can pester him, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. Maybe we can build a birdhouse or something.”

“That would be cool.”

“Maybe Mr. Rhys can help.”

“I’m sure he’d enjoy that.”

Sam nods. “But that’s still days away.”

“Two days.” I load the bread up with tuna salad and pass Sam his lunch. “And guess what?”

“What?”

“Your puppy is coming home on Tuesday, after baseball camp is over.”

“Really?” He squeals, all smiles. “He’s coming home?”

“He is.” I nod and ruffle his hair. “So, you’ll have plenty to keep you busy in just a couple of days.”

“We need to get him food bowls and blankets and toys.”

“And a bed.”

“No, he’s going to sleep with me.”

“He can sleep in your room, but he’ll have his own bed.” Sam frowns at me, and it’s like looking in a mirror when I’m being stubborn.

It takes everything in me not to laugh.

“I mean it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Why do you look like someone just took your birthday away?” Rhys asks as he saunters into the room. He eyes the tuna salad, then me, as if he’d like to devour both of us.

He must be hungry.

I immediately make a sandwich and set it before him.

“Mom won’t let the puppy sleep in my bed with me. She’s going to make him sleep way down on the floor!”

“Dogs are supposed to sleep on the floor,” Rhys says reasonably and bites into his sandwich. “They aren’t people.”

“But he’s a baby. He might get scared.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” I say sternly, giving Sam the look that says that this conversation is over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I just got a call from Chicago,” Rhys says, watching my face, and my stomach clenches.

This is it. He’s leaving.