Page 75 of Perfectly Wedded

“I guess?” I’m not sure how to make this as fun as kissing him under a waterfall. They are not even in the same ballpark. More like different galaxies. But before I can give him all of me, I need to knoweverything—to know if this feeling that things could work is just a mirage, or if we have a chance together.

“Let’s make it a game,” he suggests, his competitive streak coming out. “Since we failed at the question game at the hockey team party, why don’t we try again? Except this time, if you pause before you answer, then you have to kiss the other person.”

“Wait—it’s aspeedquestion game?”

“Don’t the best games test your ability to act on reflexes?”He knows he’s got an advantage honed from years on the ice. And this added twist will only work if I answer without thinking. Otherwise, I’m going down like an airplane with engine failure.

“Seems fair enough.” I nod, crossing my arms. “But I’m adding one more rule. No touching while I answer.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “You think I’ll distract you?”

“You most definitely will distract me. So keep your distance, MacPherson.”

He raises his hands. “You can tie my hands behind my back if you want.”

“You would like that way too much,” I say with a smirk.

“Are all questions legit?”

I shrug. “I don’t see why not.” If I keep my options open, that means I get to ask him whatever I want. Seems totally fair to me. “You want to go first?”

He nods, then gives me a look that says he’s up to something. “Sloan, why did you say no when I asked you out the first time?”

I was definitely not expecting that one. I bite my lip. “You couldn’t take things easy on me?”

“Never,” he says, his eyes glinting. “The stakes are too high. And I want towin.” His voice rumbles on the last word.

If I answer honestly, then I’m confessing my secret—how long I’ve wanted him. But I’m too competitive to give up on the first try, and I refuse to lose this game.

“Are you stalling for time?” he asks with an amused grin.

“No. Absolutely not,” I fire back. “When you asked me out the first time, we barely knew each other. You had just moved in, and I wasn’t in a good head space. I was still recovering from the accident, fighting headaches and in a mild depression. I wasn’tme.The girl who likes to throw parties and cook Italian dinners andgo, go go. I was afraid that if you dated that version of me, the one who was sad and struggling, you’d run the opposite direction and never give me a chance. You’d only see the parts of me that were broken and never the real me underneath. It seemed too risky, like I might lose your friendship. If I’m honest, I wasembarrassed that I’d never be enough. So I pretended I wasn’t interested because I wanted to save one scrap of my dignity, even if it meant pushing you away.”

His eyes soften as he brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “You have always been enough, Sloan. Why do you think I wanted to marry you?”

“Because you felt sorry for me?”

“Maybe it was selfish of me, but I wanted to be with you however and whenever I could. Even if it meant convincing you to marry me for practical reasons.”

My heart thunders in my chest. I feel like I could faint. Is it possible Vale MacPherson feels more than raw attraction for me? That he might even love me? I can’t think about the possibility or I might fold right on the spot.

“Which brings me to my question,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “You confessed to me that you’ve never told a woman before that you love her. So why is that?”

His studies me for a beat, then takes my hands in his. “For two reasons. One, because I didn’t want to be my father. I didn’t want to tell someone I loved them and then change my mind. Love isn’t just based on feelings. It’s a choice we make. We choose to stay. And I decided to save it for someone I’d never change my mind about.”

“You said there were two reasons,” I remind him. “What’s the other one?”

His jaw flexes. “Because I never fell in love with anyone before.” He hesitates a beat. “Until now.”

My heart drops out of my chest. I don’t believe it’s possible. He can’t love me.

“Then why...?” Maybe it’s selfish to ask, but I want to know. I need to hear him say it.

He gives me that trademark grin that makes him America’s hottest athlete. “Wait your turn, you impatient woman.” His eyes are dancing. He knows he has me in the palm of his hand—waiting for something that I need from him. I have to knownow.

I scoff. “But how could you drop that kind of bomb on me without an explanation?”

He levels his gaze and shakes his head. “I’m not answering you because it’s my turn to ask.” Then he gives me a look that disarms me. “How can I convince you to stop asking me for an end date to this marriage?”

---