Page 44 of Married to the Frenemy

That still didn’t stop me from pursuing something with her.

From sneaking into her bedroom every chance I got.

From falling in love with her.

Until my love nearly sent her to the morgue.

Her brilliant eyes lock onto mine, her lips parting slightly as she leans closer.

I move my hands to her cheeks, even though this is probably one of those limitations she mentioned. In this moment, I don’t care about that. All I do care about is making her realize that she matters. That she’s enough. That she’s perfect just the way she is.

I curve toward her, our breaths intermingling as I trace my eyes over her face. From her emerald green eyes, to the delicate curve of her button nose, to the plump lips I’ve fantasized about feeling again an unhealthy number of times since kissing her yesterday.

I’ve also fantasized about seeing them on other parts of my body an unhealthy number of times.

It’s what I was thinking about when she saw me in the shower this morning.

I inch closer, her mouth so close I can practically taste her. But before I can, she abruptly pulls back and jumps off the barstool. Her chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as she looks at me with a confusion and perhaps a bit of fear.

“Just sign the contract, Beckham,” she orders before spinning on her heels and hurrying up the stairs.

I don’t move until I hear the door to the bedroom close behind her.

When I do, I expel a deep sigh, then take a sip of wine as I read over the so-called contract she drew up.

Sure enough. Number one on her list is no unauthorized touching.

And I definitely almost did more than just touch her.

A chuckle escapes when I read number two, though.

Always disinfect the shower after extracurricular use.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

BECKHAM

The tires of my truck crunch on the gravel as I park in front of the tasting room building after spending the day de-budding vines. Now that it’s March and we’re in the middle of the time of year referred to as “bud burst”, my focus is doing everything to ensure flavorful grapes, including removing certain buds to further concentrate the flavor.

The sun still glimmers bright and warm in the sky, though it’s beginning its descent toward the west. A year ago, I’d still be in the fields or my lab, despite having already worked eight hours. These days, though, I’ve been stopping work earlier and earlier.

As much as I thought the idea of Haley’s contract was ridiculous, it’s actually been good for us. With established boundaries, she seems more relaxed around me.

In fact, over the past six weeks, we’ve been spending a lot more time together than I imagined when I proposed this arrangement. My once empty house now feels cozy and inviting, Maggie always greeting me at the door with an enthusiastic hug as she recounts her day at preschool, complete with details about who got into trouble and who she played with during recess.

It’s become the highlight of my day.

I hate the idea that there will come a time when I’ll walk into my house and she won’t be there. Neither of them will.

Jude claims that’s the real reason I still haven’t approached Grady about buying the vineyard from him. That I’m worried the answer will still be no and we’ll have done all of this for nothing.

That Haley and Maggie will no longer have a reason to stay.

Which is crazy.

I like having them around, but I want this vineyard more than anything. I don’t want Grady to become suspicious of my sudden nuptials.

That’s all.

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