Page 40 of Wild Ever After
I don’t have time to ask why I need a shirt before she’s attempting to step down on her own. There are some cheers and some boos as I grab her hips and help. When she’s standing in front of me, she leans against my chest and peers up at me.
My pulse quickens as she glides a hand along my bicep. “You still don’t have a shirt on.”
“We can stop by the room and change.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll just look and not touch.”
She lets me lead her to a lounge chair, where I flag down a waitress and ask for water.
“You have a nice body,” she says, gaze roaming over me.
“Thanks.” I keep the,So do you, to myself.
“I keep replaying it over and over. You are a surprising guy.”
My stare drops to her pouty mouth.
“Do you think if I drink enough, you’ll start to look not as hot? Like reverse beer goggles?”
My throat is thick as I swallow. Her fingers find mine. My heart is racing impossibly fast. If I leaned in just a couple of inches, I could kiss her. I can’t though. I know I can’t. But fuck do I want to.
Sprints on the ice sound like fun compared to sitting here and doing the decent thing, which sadly isnotkissing her until she sobers up and then kissing her everywhere else. I know that isn’t what she truly wants, despite her drunken rambling. We agreed, only the one time.
“It was all my fault.”
“What was all your fault?” I brush her hair out of her face.
“Sam.”
The mention of her ex has me pulling back. She isn’t over him. I need to remember that. Whatever attraction she has to me is a balm to her broken heart.
“It’s his loss. Trust me.”
“I’m not the kind of girl guys want to marry.” Her chin wobbles with the admission.
“I married you, didn’t I?”
“It isn’t the same thing.”
“No, I guess it isn’t, but I think you’re pretty great.”
Her stare locks on me. “I think you’re pretty great, too.”
15
HENCE MY CURRENT STATE
JADE
This trip has beenfull of amazing, unforgettable memories. It’s also been full of awkward moments. Like yesterday, when I woke up in the middle of the night with a pounding headache and brief memories of Declan pulling me off a bar top earlier that afternoon.
And like right now, as the restaurant host gushes over us, asking how our honeymoon is going, while he leads us to a small table outside with a breathtaking view of the ocean.
I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve been asked if we’re on our honeymoon. I mean, we are, but being reminded of it ten times a day is giving me an ulcer.
I flash the host what I hope is a smile, and not a grimace, as I take my seat. Declan thanks him and grins out at the water. “This is nice.”
It’s more than nice. This is the top recommendation for a romantic dinner off the resort. The pictures from my research didn’t do it justice. The lighting is low and, like everything else this week, super romantic. Our server fawns over us, too, referring to me and Declan as ‘the happy couple’ and even winking at Declan as he asks if we’ve been getting any sleep. Cringe. I stare hard at the menu as he takes our drink order and tells us the specials.
