Page 36 of The Fiance Dilemma

Yummy?

Robbie shot me a worried glance.

Fair. I couldn’t understand how, but that kiss on the cheek had made me short-circuit. Which wasn’t good. I loved PDA, and everyone in town knew that. Under normal circumstances, I would have lit up and turned in Matthew’s arms, planting a kiss on his mouth. But I was pretty sure I’d collapse to the ground if I did that. Which… was worse than bad. Maybe we needed rules. Guidelines. A… plan, too, after Adalyn asked me if I was going to break his heart, and Matthew getting the third degree from Cameron. This engagement needed a Terms and Conditions. Yes.

“Do you mind if I steal my fiancée?” Matthew asked the other man, snagging my attention back. “She’s been out all day and I’m a needy man.”

“Absolutely,” Robbie said with a smile, already walking off. “I’ll put these in a safe place before María runs through them in the blink of an eye.”

I nodded my head, watching the man leave in the direction of the house.

“Hi,” Matthew said after a beat. As if he hadn’t done all that cheek-kissing and arm wrapping and suggestive commenting about my sweat. He moved, coming around to face me. “Was that a basket of muffins?”

The sight of the sun shining on him, surrounded by the greenery of the farm and slopes beyond, disarmed me. “You’re wearing your glasses,” I heard myself point out. Surprise registered in Matthew’s expression. Okay. That had been a little out of the blue. “You hardly ever wear them. They’re nice. And they momentarily distracted me, I guess.”

Matthew’s smile was hesitant at first, but big and smug once it fully parted his face. “You’re wearing a pretty distracting workout set yourself,shortcake.”

I hoped the slight flush that his words brought back to my skin wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “I don’t think the cake thing is going to work,” I commented with a shrug. “And thanks. I’m feeling exactly how tight my clothes are.” I also knew he could be referring to the blinding shade of pink of the leggings and top, and not the way my body looked in it, but what did that matter in the big scheme of things? “Those were my apology muffins in Robbie’s hands. And you kissed me on the cheek. I think we need rules for things like that.”

“Things like you calling me ‘Mattsie-Boo’?”

“It was the best I could do,” I countered. “You caught me off guard.”

“With my kiss. On the cheek. That we need rules for.”

I could see the amusement in his eyes, so I shot him a glance.“With your presence. But yes. Did Bobbi send you or are you here to talk about Page Nine?”

His brows arched. “I’m your fiancé. I’m here to walk you home.”

My chest did a weird thing. Odd enough for me to know that it wasn’t only about the nice gesture. Strong enough for me to know we really needed that conversation about rules and a plan. “A walk home sounds great,” I said. “I’ll just have to let Robbie know that I’m leaving. Goat Happy Hour runs for another hour, and I usually hang around. It’s mostly the kids petting them and hanging out, but baby goats can be a bit of a handful.”

“Let’s stay, then,” Matthew offered.

I glanced at his clothes. Worn jeans, those Chelsea boots I’d seen a few times on him, and a basic tee under a corduroy overshirt. “I’d hate for you to get all messy or your clothes covered in goat hair.” I never minded having to do a little extra laundry, but the last time I’d brought a man to something like this had taught me that not everyone did.

“You underestimate how much I love a good mess.”

My silly mind took in that glint in his eyes and ran with the implications of it. A different part of me too, based on the questions that rose to the tip of my tongue.

“Let’s go,” Matthew insisted. Was that genuine excitement in his voice? He nodded his head toward the group gathered around the furry little monsters, setting his palm at the small of my back. “Let’s hang out with the goats, then I’ll walk you home.”

Matthew hadn’t lied.

He loved a good mess.

He hadn’t even blinked at the mud stains on his white tee, or the grass and goat hair scattered all over his jeans. Even when María hadapproached with Pedro—a teacup pig and the newest addition to the Vasquez family that had inspired my proposal story that night on the porch—Matthew hadn’t hesitated to snatch him up in his arms.

Based on how my lower belly had perked up at the sight, I seemed to be into glasses-wearing men holding tiny farm animals. Which shouldn’t be surprising. I loved tiny farm animals. I’d just never felt this invested in a pair of arms holding them. Much less, arms belonging to a blond man.

I didn’t think I’d ever date a blond. Not that I was dating one now. I—

I was probably ovulating. That had to be the explanation for why I couldn’t stop gaping at Matthew like I would at a celebrity doing one of those puppy interviews. Only this wasn’t a celeb. This was my fiancé. Matthew Flanagan, who was blond and who I was not technically dating. Sitting on the grass with a mini pig called Pedro Pigscal.

“You should snap a picture.”

My gaze bounced from Pedro’s pink snout to Matthew’s eyes. “What?”

“Just saying,” he offered, rearranging Pedro in his arms. “That way you could stare at it. Me. And little Pedro. Whenever you please.” He winked. “And whenever you need.”

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