Page 31 of Honeyed

“I swear, you transport a tractor-trailer in there or something.” I nod my chin in the bag’s direction.

“It’s a lot being a woman, we require many things.” She sticks her tongue out at me.

What would she do if I nipped it with my teeth? God, I would risk the potential elbow to the ribs to find out. Would she kiss me back as passionately as she did in front of the pickup counter?

“One of those things we require is a nightly bubble bath, which you’re cutting into with this little errand. So can we go?” Her casual Friday jeans hug every curve of her waist, hips, and ass.

Fuck, now I’m thinking of her in the bath, hair all piled up with some sexy book in her hands, and I have to walk slowly so as not to cause any more friction to my semi-hard dick.

“Guess I won’t bring you up front to show you the soft top white Jeep I rented, then.” I shrug, naming her dream car from when we were in high school.

Alana’s eyes light up a little. “You didn’t. What is this, the wedding transportation I never got?”

Chuckling, I hover my hand above the small of her back to move her down the hallway and out the front onto Newton Street. We wave goodbye to her family and the rest of the staff, then we’re standing on the sidewalk.

Our little river valley town teems with people, the kids already dismissed from school and hanging out on the main drag. Teenage boys try to impress the girls, shop owners put out chalkboard signs with today’s sales, and couples sit on benches sipping coffees or treating themselves to before-dinner treats. Everything is beginning to bloom and green, and the stone-fronted buildings stand astute next to the rushing of the river rapids. Music from a solo guitar floats through the street, and I know that soon, some other musically-gifted citizens will set up with the lone player and form a rag-tag band, providing entertainment to the people.

“Hey.” She pouts when she realizes there is no such car waiting.

“Promise, it’s a much better surprise.” Then I lace my hand with hers.

After all, we’re in public, and I’m supposed to touch her like this. Even if her father still won’t talk to me, and I’m set on making it through this marriage without breaking all the rules, I can’t help that my limbs gravitate toward hers.

We cross the street, cars slowing for us and some drivers we know waving as they pass on their way home for dinner. The surprise I have for her is just a few more feet down, with brown paper on the windows and a sign that’s been recently taken down.

Producing a key from my pocket, I unlock the deadbolt of the glass door and hold it open for her.

“Okay …” Alana looks skeptical as she walks in before me.

Flicking on the overhead lights, we’re greeted with an empty nine-hundred-square-foot room. Recessed lighting illuminates the space, with two exposed brick walls on either side of us and original hardwood flooring from when the block of buildings was put up here just before nineteen twenty. The two painted walls are a shade of daisy yellow, and a long black counter runs along the back wall. White bookcases stand against one of the brick walls, but they’re so in need of repair that they’re probably best left outside for the garbage truck.

Other than that, it’s just dust, some dead spiders, and a whole lot of possibility.

“It’s a nice space,” she confirms, circling slowly as she assesses it once, twice, and then a third time.

“There is a bathroom in the back, along with a small office. Then a merchandise room, although we’d have to build it out to really utilize the space. I think you’d want to tear out the black counter and do a floor-to-ceiling built-in with a matching checkout area, and maybe a new front door to make it catch the eye more. Patrick said he’d hook me up with Cass’s security company to install all of that, and we could talk to some local craftsman to do the display pieces.”

My skin prickles with awareness, because she’s studying me as I tell her all the ideas I’ve been ruminating over. Showing Alana that I am in this with her is of utmost importance. It shows that I know she didn’t just agree to marry me for the money but because we could create this market/shop as a partnership. Even if our marriage isn’t the traditional one, our friendship is stronger than all of it. We’d start something new here together.

“Really great ideas, although the first step would be a good deep clean.” Her sneaker scuffs some dust on the floor. “But it’s got good bones. I can picture the tables full of products, and it’s right on Newton. Not far from the pizzeria. I like it, great option.”

Now for my surprise.

“Good. Because I already rented it for the next two years.”

Inky waves swing my way, and I swerve to avoid the swarm of vanilla and citrus-smelling locks threatening to smack me. “You what?”

“Well, you said you wanted me involved, and I wanted to show you I had initiative. And I thought you’d love it, with all the exposed brick, the prime location …” I’m rambling, the nerves getting the best of me.

If she hates it, it’ll be a blow to my ego. But even worse, I’ll feel like she doesn’t have faith in me, faith in knowing what she’ll like. Not that I’ll admit it to her, but this is the first “husbandly” thing I’ve done in terms of surprise presents or grand gestures. Yes, it’s a very grand one, but the puffing out of my chest after I signed the lease papers, knowing I was doing this for her and us? It made me feel like someone worthy of wearing her ring on my finger.

When those full lips split into a beaming smile, a pride I’ve never felt fills my entire body.

Alana launches at me, wrapping her arms around my neck as she squeals with delight. “You got me a storefront!”

“I did.” I laugh, pressing my nose to her hair.

For just a moment, I let myself pretend she’s mine for real. That we can celebrate and christen this place like real newlyweds would.

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