Page 34 of Marrying Mr. Majestic

Way reached over to turn up the volume. “Can’t go wrong with Randy Travis. That voice will hit you in the gut.”

I looked closer at the speaker. “Is that a radio?”

His relaxed laughter relaxed me, too. Way had been stressed all day, and it was a relief to see him happy.

“You know I don’t get the internet out here, so my options are limited.”

I pulled two cans of beer out of the fridge and popped one open before handing it to him. “You could download stuff in town and then play it from your phone.”

He took a deep swallow of beer and grinned at me. “I could. But then I would have missed seeing your reaction. Besides, we listened to this station growing up, and it’s a habit at this point.”

I leaned against the counter and sipped my beer while he unwrapped the pizza. “Do you listen to any other kind of music besides country?”

He flicked his eyes at me. “We starting the get-to-know-you game already?”

I shrugged. “That was the deal, wasn’t it?”

“I have a playlist of dirty hip-hop,” he admitted, like it was the most shameful secret ever.

I gasped. “You listen to bad words, Mayor Fletcher?”

“My sisters would kill me. They think it’s demeaning to women. But I like the beat.” His cheeks were pink, maybe from embarrassment or maybe from the hot shower. Either way, he was fucking beautiful, and it was killing me not to kiss his crooked grin.

“I mostly listen to business podcasts,” I admitted. “But I have season tickets to the New York Philharmonic. Don’t tell anyone.”

Way’s grin faded. “There’s a lot to unpack.”

“We both have secrets?”

“Your secrets are smarty-pant secrets. Symphony orchestra secrets. Self-improvement shit. Now I feel like a dumbass.”

I stepped into his personal space until our chests pressed together. “My sister was first-chair oboe in college. I got hooked after going to all of her concerts.”

“Does she still play?” His eyes were on my lips.

I combed my fingers into his damp hair to tame it. “No. Camille went to med school and lost all her free time. Now, she’s a busy ER doc and definitely doesn’t have the time or energy for it.”

Way’s hands moved to my hips. “So both of you got the brains in the family.”

I shook my head. “They went to her. I got the tenacity.”

He pulled me closer. His eyes flicked up to mine. “I’ve never listened to a podcast,” he whispered. Another secret.

“Shameful,” I said, leaning in to brush my lips across his stubbled jaw. “Probably ’cause you’re so lazy.”

Thankfully, he laughed. His hands moved up under my T-shirt. “That’s me. Always laying around eating junk food and watching daytime television.”

“If only you worked harder,” I murmured, nosing the skin below his ear. “Helped others.”

His breath hitched. “If only I was tenacious like you.”

“Mm.” Just as I moved back to kiss him full on the lips, the oven made a loud beeping combination, startling both of us apart.

“Shit,” Way said with a nervous laugh. “Pizza needs to go in.”

He moved to open the oven door, but a split second before he bent over, I saw the tented front of his pajama pants.

And despite all the rationalizations I’d made just a few minutes earlier, I thanked god this tiny house only had one bed.

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