Page 60 of Our Now and Forever

“But you said he was married to Carrie.”

“He was,” she explained, “but that was while Lorelei was in LA trying to be an actress and he thought she wasn’t coming back.”

Caleb’s head tilted. “So he married Carrie, even though he loved Lorelei?”

Why did she have to land the only man on the planet who possessed a feminine view on love?

“Of course he didn’t.” Snow struggled for a way to explain her friends’ situation. Though to be honest, she never totally understood the whole story herself. “After Lorelei broke his heart, Spencer moved on with his life. He married Carrie, whom he loved and thought he’d spend the rest of his life with, but life happens, you know? Their marriage ended, she married someone else, and eventually Lorelei came back to him. Happy endings all around.”

“Except for Carrie,” Caleb pointed out. “Her husband died, remember?”

“Yes,” Snow agreed. “But her husband was a wife beater who got himself killed at a bar. So, really, she’s better off without him.” She slid her foot back under his nose and wiggled her toes. “Now, please tell me you haven’t shared your cockamamie theory with anyone else.”

Massaging the back of her heel, Caleb asked, “Who says cockamamie anymore?”

“Tell me you haven’t spread some rumor about Spencer cheating on Lorelei.”

“Of course not,” he said, sounding offended. “I’m not an idiot. But are you sure I’m wrong?”

Snow nodded, closing her eyes and letting the tension leave her shoulders. How Caleb found the exact right spots she did not know. But oh, was she thankful he did.

“I’m positive. The other night, Lorelei referred to Carrie as the little sister she never had. I admit, it appears to be a weird situation from the outside, which Lorelei readily admits, but there’s nothing salacious going on.”

“That’s good,” Caleb said, sliding his hands up her calf. “Because I like Spencer, and I’d hate to lose respect for him.”

She opened her eyes to watch him drop a kiss on her knee. The zing nearly shot out her ears as Snow’s body started to melt. “You really don’t like infidelity, do you?” Snow asked.

Caleb looked up after kissing the inside of her thigh. “No, I don’t. I’ve seen up close what it can do to people.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, struggling to concentrate as he worked his way up her body. With every touch, the need pitched higher.

Shaking his head, Caleb dropped a soft kiss on her lips. “Not tonight,” he said. “It’s time for a different kind of massage.”

She didn’t want to let the question go, especially when she saw the demons the subject let loose in his eyes. Her always lighthearted husband was hiding a wound she knew nothing about. But before she could push the issue, Caleb slid the straps of her tank top off her shoulders and took one pink nipple between his teeth. Her gasp of pleasure echoed around them as her questions drowned in a pool of desire.

Caleb had never seen Snow this nervous. After weeks of watching her step on stages in Nashville, he’d expect selling a painting at auction to be the less daunting task. But his wife had become a frantic ball of energy in the passenger seat. He’d asked her twice if she needed him to stop for a potty break, and the second time she nearly ripped his head off and told him to drive and keep quiet.

Being the rational man that he was, Caleb followed the directive and clamped his piehole shut.

“This is it,” Snow informed him, as he pulled the Jeep into the auction house parking lot. He didn’t bother to tell her he knew where they were going, seeing as he was the one who had mapped the place out. Today was not the day to correct his better half.

“There aren’t a lot of cars here. That’s a bad sign, isn’t it?”

“Not when the show doesn’t start for ninety minutes.” The e-mail she’d showed him said to arrive by nine, but Snow had demanded they leave the house at seven. He’d talked her into leaving at seven thirty, and that still put them here a half hour early. With only two cars in the lot, Caleb wondered if they were the first to arrive.

Snow reached his side of the Jeep before his feet hit the pavement. “Be careful with the painting,” she said, for the tenth time that morning. “Don’t hurt it.”

“I’m not going to hurt it, darling,” he said, looking forward to this sale being over so he could have his mild-mannered wife back. “You’ve wrapped it well enough to survive the Titanic.”

“I wanted to make sure it didn’t get damaged on the way down here,” Snow defended, hovering around him as he drew the delicate cargo from the backseat. “Don’t put it on the ground,” she ordered, seconds before the painting touched the pavement.

“Honey, it’s wrapped in four layers of brown paper. A little asphalt isn’t going to hurt it.”

“Still,” she said, taking her new obsession out of his hands. The thing was nearly as big as she was, making her look like a giant brown rectangle with feet. “I’ll feel better once we’re inside.”

I’ll feel better once this is over, he thought. Not that he’d say as much aloud. Caleb had learned a lot about being a husband in the last couple of weeks. Determination to keep a woman happy and his own hide out of a sling made a man a fast learner.

“I’ll carry it,” he said as she started hobbling toward the large building with the Premier Auctions sign over the door. “You’re going to break your neck and the painting—now give it here.”

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