Page 67 of Love in Fine Print

“Hi, Mom.”

She’d mentioned that she was out of the country and most likely wouldn’t be attending, but I didn’t know the backstory. I’d told her I didn’t think my father would be there either but didn’t go into more detail than that.

“It was good. Yeah, we just left the reception.”

I glanced over at her and saw her left eye was twitching.

“No,” she said flatly.

Her shoulders tensed.

She sighed. “Because I have to work, Mom. We can take a honeymoon later.”

We hadn’t actually discussed a honeymoon, but from Olivia’s workload, even if we were a ‘real couple’ I doubted she would have been able to get away.

Her posture stiffened. “Yes, I’m still going to work. I have a career. I gotta go, Mom.”

Olivia hung up her phone and placed it back in her small white purse.

I wanted to ask if she was okay but before I could the car stopped in front of the Ritz Carlton.

She looked out the window then back at me. “What are we doing here?”

“I got us a suite.”

“A suite?”

“Yes.”

She stared at me. Her expression was blank and I had no idea what was going on behind her amber eyes. That was a pattern I was starting to identify. Olivia had a world-class, Olympic gold medal-worthy poker face.

“Why?” she asked.

“It’s our wedding night. I figured people would ask how we spent it.” The truth was, I’d wanted to. But I had a feeling she wouldn’t accept that response as easily as the one I’d offered.

“Oh, right.”

“I don’t have any clothes with me.”

“Bailey packed you a bag. It’s in the back.”

I helped her out of the car, and within ten minutes, we were alone in the room with breathtaking views of Alcatraz and the bay.

“I’ve never stayed here before,” she commented as she walked toward the large windows.

“Neither have I,” I confessed.

I opened the champagne that was on the table and poured us each a glass. Olivia’s back was facing me as I walked toward her, flutes in hand. The bright lights of the cityscape caused her hourglass shape to be in a mouthwatering silhouette. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck as I approached her, and this time it wasn’t from nervousness. It was from arousal. Her wedding dress was form-fitting, and damn, Olivia Bradshaw had quite the sexy, sensual, seductive form to fit.

I stepped beside her and handed her a glass. She took it and when she looked up at me, a small smile lifted on her perfect,full lips. The lips that had felt like coming home when they’d touched mine.

“We did it,” she said as she lifted her glass.

“Yes, we did. To us.” I wanted to toast to just how fucking beautiful she was, but she clearly wasn’t comfortable with the compliments I’d been lavishing on her today.

We sipped our champagne and talked about the wedding a little and about her moving in the following day. Nothing we were saying had any sort of sexual undertones, but the energy between us was crackling with it. After we finished our glasses, a yawn claimed Olivia.

Disappointment washed over me. If it were up to me, I’d stay up talking with her all night, but I could see how exhausted she was.

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