“Hey. Would you adopt me, Maeve?” I joked. “If you need a green card, marry him.” Tea spewed from Callum’s lips. Most of it landed on his tie, which I blotted with a napkin as Maeve cackled. My palm brushed his firm chest … there might as well be a brick wall under that dress shirt. Posture stiff, he stared as I scrubbed the silk.
