Page 71 of Deadly Oath

“Good,” she murmurs with a sleepy laugh. “Because I didn’t magically become a good cook when we tied the knot. I can’t cook anything, still.”

“I forgot to tell the preacher to put that in the wedding vows. My fault.”

Sabrina laughs, her eyes fluttering open to look up at me again, and a feeling washes over me that I’ve never felt before. No—that’s not right exactly, Ihavefelt it before, but never for a romantic partner. Never for a woman who wasn’t family. It’saffection, mingled with a comforting sense of happiness, and it alarms me enough to make me quickly get out of bed, disentangling myself from her as I go to dig clothes out of the duffel bag that I brought in with me last night.

I can feel her eyes on me as I dress, pulling on jeans and a long-sleeved henley, and I wonder what she’s thinking. There are thingswe need to discuss, things most couples would have talked aboutbeforemarriage, but I avoided those topics in the week leading up to our whirlwind wedding. Things like if I’m moving in here, or if she’s going to come live at my house—for now, at least. We haven’t discussed the future.

Sabrina says nothing as I finish dressing and leave the room, stretching again under the blankets with another yawn. I don’t look back at her—the sight of her would tempt me back to bed, and it would be far too easy to let myself get lost in repeating last night with her. But I have plans to make. Things that need to be done.

I busy myself with getting the ingredients out for breakfast once I’m in the kitchen, listening with one ear to the sound of Sabrina pattering around down the hall. I pour her cup of cold pumpkin coffee, surprising myself with the fact that I, somewhere along the way, picked up on the fact that she would want that. I’ve noticed things about her, even when I didn’t mean to, and it goes along with that feeling she gives me, the one I don’t want to name.

She’ll be pleased that I got her coffee for her, and that thought warms me in a way that I shove down instantly.I married her for a reason,I remind myself sharply, turning on the stove.That reason isn’t served by letting her get in my head.

Sabrina comes into the kitchen a few minutes later, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a soft-looking purple sweater that slides off of one pale shoulder. It shows off the sharp line of her collarbone, and my cock twitches, thinking of sliding my thumb across it, my tongue?—

Get yourself together,I tell myself sharply, as I shove eggs across the pan.You fucked her three times last night. Wasn’t that enough?

Clearly, it wasn’t.

“We should talk about living arrangements.” I reach over, flipping a piece of bacon in the pan without looking back at her again. “I have a place, obviously. I’ve been renting it since I moved here. But it’s not much to look at—definitely a bachelor pad.”

Sabrina is quiet for a moment. “I hadn’t thought about that,” she admits. “This all happened so fast.”

“I thought you might be more comfortable if I moved in here.” I shrug, focusing my attention on the food. “It’s up to you, really.”

“Do you care at all which way it goes?” There’s a tiny bit of admonishment in her tone, as if she expected this to matter to me. “Where we live as a married couple, now?”

“This is an arrangement, remember?” I start to put the bacon onto a plate, noticing as I do that I’m gripping the tongs too tightly. “For your protection. A marriage of convenience.”

“It didn’t seem very convenient last night,” she says softly. “And you said I’m yours now. That you won’t let me go. So yeah, I thought it would matter.”

I swallow hard, struggling to keep my composure. It’s clear she wants this from me, and why shouldn’t she? I have married her, after all.

“I imagine Caldwell would probably prefer if we stayed here,” I tell her, filling a plate and reaching for her coffee. “You’ll have enough to explain to him about this marriage. I imagine he won’t be pleased. No reason to make it worse by moving out of the house he put you in. This should be more comfortable for us both, anyway. I figured staying in your own place would make you happy.”

Sabrina looks at me as I bring her her food, an expression on her face that almost looks hurt. And then she sees the cup of coffee in my hand, and her face softens.

“You noticed,” she says softly, taking it from me. “Thank you. That was sweet.”

Sweet.I can’t remember the last time someone called me that. My stomach tightens, and I turn away sharply, going to get my own plate. I need a minute to regain my composure, and it gives me that.

I can’t get a handle on why this morning is affecting me like this. It shouldn’t. I had a plan in place, and all that’s left now is to stick to it. But I feel off balance, like I’m grasping at tethers, and I don’t like it one bit. It’s not a feeling I’m accustomed to, and definitely not on account of a woman.

I sit down across from Sabrina with my food, even though my appetite has fled. I’d like a cup of black coffee, and I make a mentalnote to get filters and grounds this afternoon after work. I know how to use a coffee pot, even if she doesn’t.

“I’ve planned a honeymoon for us,” I tell her abruptly, and Sabrina looks up sharply, swallowing her mouthful of coffee convulsively.

“What?” She sounds utterly shocked, and I suppose I can’t blame her. Nothing about this marriage has been conventional, but somehow, I thought she would expect it, just as I thought she’d expect a fancy engagement ring.

I’ve been wrong about her more than once now. Which, likely, is a lot of why I feel so off-kilter. I generally have good instincts, and I’m not used to being wrong about people. Especially not someone I’ve watched as closely as her.

“A honeymoon,” I repeat. “I thought it might be a nice surprise. Considering how fast this all happened, I thought it might make it feel more—real. And I thought it might be good for us, to get away for a few days. Especially after what happened. Leaving town sounds like a good idea, right?”

Sabrina bites her lip. “It sounds amazing,” she says softly. “And romantic. But Caldwell?—”

“You leave him to me,” I tell her firmly. “I’m sure he won’t be thrilled about me taking you out of town, but I’m law enforcement, too. And you’re my wife, now. I’ll deal with any objections he might have.”

Sabrina can’t help but smile at that. “Okay,” she says softly. “As long as you’re the one dealing with him.” She reaches for her coffee, taking a small sip. “Where are we going?”

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