Page 42 of Winning Bid

He blows out a breath like he’s been holding it forever. “Thank fuck.”

“What?”

“I know you’re a strong, independent woman and all of that, so I worried you’d want to farm our kids out to a fleet of nannies.”

“Every study I’ve ever read on the matter talks about positive outcomes for kids who have at least one parent home, even with nannies around. If I’m bringing new life into the world, I want it to have the best chance for health and happiness possible.”

His breath hitches before he rolls to face me again. “Speaking of health and happiness?—"

“You’re not sick, are you? I don’t think I can take some other catastrophic?—"

“No, I’m fine as far as I know. Nothing like that.”

And now, I can breathe. “Okay, what is it?”

“Given how my dad is about you and the fact you’re just starting to build a relationship with your father, I’m guessing the giant wedding my mom wants is not exactly your thing.”

Oh, just wedding stuff. I chuckle. “You know something? I just keep thinking about how I want to be married to you. The wedding is one day in our lives. It’s the marriage that matters to me.”

“So, you don’t care about having a day where you can be doted on like a princess?”

I laugh at the thought. “Hell no. I know every girl is supposed to plan that stuff since they were little, have dresses picked out in their mind, or whatever, but I’ve been kind of dreading that. Being the center of attention when all I’m doing is some imitation of what’s been done for hundreds of years … it strikes me as weird. Not to mention, the whole white dress thing is just tacky to me since it’s supposed to represent virginity, and then there’s the whole ‘giving the bride away’ thing, like I’m chattel … it’s all just a bit Handmaid’s Tale for my liking.”

“Then how about we elope?”

I look to see if he’s joking. “Your family would kill you.”

He shrugs. “I’ve been dead before.”

I punch his shoulder, earning a wince out of him. “Don’t ever say that.”

“When I was shot, I was pretty sure I was going to die. Is that better?”

“No, and yes.”

He smiles. “My point is, my family probably won’t kill me since they’re glad I survived, and I don’t think yours will go after you. We can hit a courthouse, go to Vegas, whatever you want. But I don’t care about a wedding, either. I just want to be married to you.”

It sounds so romantic. But I don’t want him saying this just to make me happy. “No dreams of some gala wedding for you?”

“Not at all. I’ve only ever dreamed of my wife. Will you marry me? Far, far away from everyone we know?”

A smile pries my lips open. “Yes.”

22

JUNE

Ilove that he wants to elope. I thought marrying Anderson West would mean a big, formal nightmare. But now that we’re here and disconnected from everyone else in a world where no one else’s opinion matters, I think it’s easier to think about just us. Not the stress of our everyday lives. Not the expectations of far too many people. Us. Making our wedding be about just us is even better.

I roll onto my side, then crawl over to him, straddling him. The delight in his eyes lifts my heart. He asks, “What are you doing?”

“Showing you how happy I am that we’re eloping.” I lean down for a kiss, and even though his lips start out cold, they warm up fast. He grips my ass over my blanket, pulling me closer. It makes me feel so wanted when he does that. And then I feel the proof. He’s hardening up beneath me. The moment I start to grind against him, he breaks the kiss.

“It is too damn cold out here for that.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“Who said anything about stopping?” Anderson sits up and scoots off the lounger, picking me up with him. For a brief moment, he stares into my eyes. I don’t know what he’s going to do next, but the air is electric between us. The fire crackles, tossing amber light upward. He growls, “Clothes. Off. Now.”

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