Page 51 of Tempting the King

I don’t have the answer. It’s out of my control and for the first time, I’m okay with that.

CHAPTER 16

Emee

“And… you can open your eyes.” King takes his hands away, but for a second I don’t look.

I love surprises. I always have. I love savoring the moment and wondering what it could be, and right now I’m nearly hopping with excitement.

A cool breeze whips up my hair, carrying with it the scent of the outdoors: fresh grass, old stone, recent rain. We’ve been driving for an hour, but King made me promise to keep my eyes shut once we got on the freeway.

“Emee, you can open your eyes now,” he says again and my belly does a little flip.

“I know. I’m just… Give me a clue. What is it?”

He laughs. “Why don’t you look and find out?”

“Are we at a fairground?”

“No.”

I snicker a little at the frustration in his voice.

“An art gallery?” I suggest, thinking through the things I told him I loved.

“Baby, open your eyes.”

“Is it an ice cream factory?” I say, knowing it’s not, but letting the little girl inside me scamper around as someone makes her feel safe and loved.

“Now I’m worried you’re going to be disappointed when you see it,” he grumbles. “Please, baby, open your eyes.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

I open my eyes, blinking against the bright sun, and then trail my eyes back and forth over the landscape in front of me.

There’s a field where the grass looks like waves, blowing in the breeze. Rough stones laid out in a little path meandering between patches of unkempt lawn. A large stone building, desolate but beautiful. A farmhouse with faded yellow paint and a signpost by the walkway.

“River Valley Farm. What is this place?”

“It’s yours, baby. Ours. If you want it.”

I turn, and he tugs my back to his chest, arms locking around my chest, his scent and presence comforting, and I want to bury myself in the security he gives me.

“Did you buy this place?” I ask, and he laughs.

“No. I would. To see that look on your face, I’d buy a thousand farms, but no, this place…” He turns and stares up at the windows, his features a mask of mixed emotions as his eyes trail up to the wooden peaks and down to the overgrown bushes. The windows are hazy, and the yellow paint is chipping off the trim, but the farmhouse is beautiful. “This is where I grew up.”

“Really?”

He nods. “This belonged to my mom and dad. The couple who adopted me, I mean. The Martins. They passed away six years ago, a car accident. Both killed instantly.”

“King, I’m so sorry.” I pull myself in closer to him, wondering why we’ve not really talked about what happened to his parents before, and he wraps his arms tighter, lowering his hands to my ass and snugging me against the hard length under his jeans.

“They were good people. They loved me, even when I was a handful. You might find that hard to believe.” He laughs, and I punch his chest. “They were good people, Emee,” he continues. “I have a lot of happy memories here. And I think we will be making some new ones of our own.”

“I’d like that,” I tell him, and it’s true.

It’s all so perfect.

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