“Do you mind them calling you my boyfriend? Or me?” I ask him. Rollo’s expression shifts. His hand, which had been touching his naked chest, tantalizingly trailing over his abdomen, drops to the band of his basketball shorts. He swallows and shakes his head, then reconsiders on a nod. “Actually, yes. I do mind.” “You do?” “Thank heavens,” my dad mutters. “Yeah.” He takes a step toward me that raises the temperature of the air surrounding us. “Only because you won’t let me call you wife yet.”
