Page 117 of Marrying Off My Husband

A grin spread across my face as I glanced down at her. “I’d like that. I mean the room service. I don’t…care what you’re wearing. That’s not…I don’t mean that to sound…I’m sorry.”

She giggled at me. “Champagne getting to you already?”

“No, that’s just my awkwardness on full display.”

She set her flute down on the table, popping the last piece of strawberry into her mouth before she crossed to her suitcase. “You’re not awkward. You just think you are.”

“No, I’m awkward,” I called as she grabbed a few items from her bag and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door slightly.

“You’re not, Spencer. I know you think you are, but you’re not. You’re just normal.”

I leaned against the wall, taking comfort in her voice and her words and in knowing that she was so close to me. “I’m really not that normal. I promise. And, hey, how can you judge? Didn’t you say you’re not normal.”

She whipped the door open, and we came face to face unexpectedly. My heart stopped before it melted at the sight of her: a slight grin on her face, her hair pulled into a messy bun, and the flannel duck pajamas complete with fuzzy slippers.

Her grin slipped a little as we found ourselves inches from each other. My breathing turned shallow as my gaze fell to her lips. Thoughts of our kiss at the amusement park raced through my mind, and I longed to feel the softness of her skin against my fingers as I cupped her face.

My lips parted, and I felt myself lean forward when she said, “Oops, I’m sorry.”

She skirted around me to retrieve her champagne and another strawberry while I silently kicked myself for assuming she’d want to kiss. “Anyway, you’re right.”

“Uh…what?” I murmured, trying desperately to stop acting like a fool.

“You’re right. I’m not normal, so I’m not a good judge.” She took another sip of her champagne as she perused the room service menu.

“Anything look good?” I asked as I grabbed my pajamas from my duffel bag.

“Umm, yeah, this cranberry-walnut salad sounds perfect.”

I changed clothes in the bathroom before emerging and scanning the menu myself before placing the order.

“Hey, you didn’t happen to bring that Sorry game with you, did you?” Eve asked as she pulled her eyes away from the mountain slope as I placed the receiver on the base.

“Sorry, no, but…I did bring a deck of cards. You could play solitaire if you’d like.”

“Aw, that’s no fun for you. How about Gin or something?”

“Okay, just…oh…no poker,” I said as I retrieved the cards from my bag.

“Deal. I hate poker. I think it’s overrated.”

I grinned at her as I plopped on the couch. “Me too.”

She took the other end, leaving a cushion between us as I shuffled the cards and dealt out the first hand.

We played back and forth, sipping our champagne and polishing off the strawberries as we waited for our meal. “Wow, I am glad you’re willing to share the bed. This couch is awful.”

“It is. I’m not sure I can stand it.”

“Do you want to move?”

“The floor would honestly be better, but maybe the bed?” she suggested, her nose wrinkling.

“You’re on,” I said, collecting up the cards and moving them to the middle of the bed.

Eve settled on it as our meals arrived.

Within an hour, we’d polished off the salads and the dessert we’d ordered to share and changed games. Eve plopped onto her stomach, her cards fanned in her hand. “I have no threes. Go fish.”

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