Page 47 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

“Right,” West speaks again. “They’re friends. I’ll text him and tell him we’re finished.”

“Great, bro.” Footsteps trudge away from us.

“She’s hot.” Another of West’s friend’s comments, and Beck makes a funny little noise as she covers her mouth. I try not to smirk but he’s right; she is. And she’s my wife. And maybe I could be one lucky bastard if I could make her mine in more than name.

“She’s fine all right.” Someone else picks up the conversation. More footsteps move closer to our hiding spot. “That rack, man. That ass. There’s no way they’re just friends. He has to have tapped that.”

I growl under my breath. Cuss. Should go out there and tell those boys not to talk about her like that. But I’m half hard and I don’t want to put more wood on their fire. One of them spots me like this and they’re going to have some evidence to their theory.

Beck makes a face and winds an arm around my waist, keeping me close. Rubbing up against me in a way that doesn’t help.

“Shut up, Julian,” West grumbles.

“All I’m saying is that we could all use a friend like that,” this Julian kid calls out and the group laugh as they head out of the grove without spotting us.

There are still other people in the grove. Other voices. So I don’t hold onto her when she pulls away from me. But I do help her brush the bits of tree debris from her back.

“You didn’t tell me,” she says. “Why do you hate the oranges so much?”

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