Page 11 of Man of the Month Club: January
Deeply affected with or struck by strong feelings of attraction, affection, or infatuation.
That’s pretty much what I had believed the word meant, but seeing the official definition from the dictionary makes it feel even more real and fantastic. Smitten is precisely how I feel about Jett, but it seems too good to be true that he could possibly feel that way about me. I don’t dare believe it, despite how much my lonely heart aches to grab ahold of him and never let go.
Glaring at the stack of money, I wonder if I should give it back to Jett. He wouldn’t have left it if he didn’t mean for me to take it, but it’s way too much. It sure would help me out with looming past due bills, though.
Deciding to go above and beyond with today’s task, I tuck the money and note into my purse before taking myself on the grand tour of Jett’s impressive home. By the time the movers arrive, I have a good idea how I think each of the rooms should be assigned and laid out. I just hope Jett agrees with my vision.
10
Jett
I’m exhausted from a long day of showing my multi-millionaire client pristine homes that he intends to tear down. Some of the homes are absolutely lovely, but he views them as nothing more than obstructions on properties that he wants to custom build a monstrous mansion on.
The wastefulness of it all is absolutely appalling, and it’s all I can do to keep from dumping him as a client. I still might. But the commission on the sale of any one of these properties is more than most people make in an entire year.
I’m starting to realize that money isn’t as important as I once believed, though. In fact, I could live in a tiny cottage in the woods and be happy, if Maggie was by my side. My priorities have shifted, literally overnight. Now, all that matters to me is growing old with the woman of my dreams.
No fancy house could compare to the joy of getting to spend time with Maggie, but there is no denying that my new home is gorgeous. I’m still filled with awe every time I round the bend and it comes into view. I can’t quite believe it is really mine. I certainly haven’t done anything to deserve it––or Maggie––but I’ll do anything in my power to hold onto both.
Joy invades my senses when I see Maggie’s car in the driveway, despite the fact that I’m getting home much later than I had anticipated. The moving truck is gone. I would have assumed she would leave when they did. The fact that she stayed has to be a very good sign.Right?
I have to force myself not to run inside to see her as soon as I park. Walking as quickly as I can, without looking like a total weirdo, I scramble inside my new home.
The sights and scents that greet me when I enter my house nearly take my breath away. Maggie is in the kitchen, cooking something that smells delectable, and somehow, my house already looks like a home. I blink rapidly as I take it all in, almost not daring to believe my own eyes.
I’d been expecting to see piles of boxes and randomly placed furniture, but the place looks like it has been professionally staged. The enormous dining room table is set with a long runner, tall candlesticks, a flower centerpiece, and the gold-rimmed china I purchased so I could have Phoebe and her mom over for Thanksgiving last year.
Maggie’s back is to me as she stirs something in a pan on the stove, so I take a moment to savor the feeling of coming home to a beautiful woman making me a hot dinner. A man could certainly get used to this––especially if that man is me and the woman is Maggie. She’s the one for me. I know it. I just need to convince her of that.
“Smells delicious,” I finally murmur.
She jumps slightly before turning and giving me a wide smile. “I hope you don’t mind. When the groceries were delivered, I decided you’d probably like a hot meal when you got home.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I assure her, before saying, “But there’s only one place setting at the table. We need two.”
“Oh, I wasn’t planning to stay for dinner.” Her cheeks flush a lovely shade of pink and she looks away from me as if the red sauce suddenly needs all of her attention.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist. How else will I know if you’re trying to poison me?” I make my way further into the kitchen and turn a complete circle, looking for the unpacked boxes, but don’t see any.
“I could take a taste, if you’d like,” she offers.
Moving to stand directly behind her, I whisper near her ear, “Please keep me company, so I don’t have to eat alone.”
I know I’m playing dirty. She can’t resist being kind, but I hope it’s more than just humoring me when she says, “I suppose I could do that.”
I press a kiss to the left side of her neck and delight in the little shiver that moves down her body. Taking that as a very good sign, I decide not to press my luck. Instead, I move to look for the dinner plates. When they are in the first cabinet I open, I grin at the beautiful woman beside me and say, “Exactly where I would have put them.”
She smiles as she moves to pour the spaghetti noodles into a colander in the sink. “I tried to be logical about it and think where I would want things if I lived here.”
I keep the thought to myself that her moving in here could happily be arranged. It’s too soon, and I don’t want to scare her off. She’s as skittish as a wild colt. Instead, I say, “I didn’t mean for you to put everything away.”
It’s obvious I’ve made a mistake, when her hand flutters to her throat and she says, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep––”
Rather than let her continue that train of thought, I interrupt to say, “Oh, you didn’t overstep at all. I’m delighted that you did all of this, and it looks like you did a fantastic job.”
She gives me a proud, beaming smile that I would give anything to see every day for the rest of my life.
After we both fill our plates and sit down, I twirl the pasta around my fork and take an enormous bite. Words fail me, so I merely make a delighted groan around the delectable food in my mouth.
