Page 37 of The Fiance Dilemma

I snorted. Or tried to. He really was good at this whole flirting thing. I shook my head. “I think I’ve had enough staring at a picture to last me a few weeks.”

Matthew sobered up. “How do you feel about that?”

That. Page Nine. Us on it. “It’s a good picture. It could have been a lot worse.” I brushed back a lock of hair that had come out of my ponytail, tucking it behind my ear. “It’s very believable.”

And I wondered what his family, friends, anyone who knew him thought of it. But the question was getting stuck every time I tried to summon it.

“You looked beautiful.”

My breath left me, and I had to get my head in check with the way my heart had skipped a beat. “We looked flustered. And horny. Like Bobbi said. I wouldn’t exactly call that beautiful.”

His head tilted. “It’s a beautiful look on you.”

Another beat was skipped, and then there was a beat in which we just looked at each other. Me, flushed. Again. And Matthew, easy. Casual. As if he hadn’t just complimented me again.

“Thanks,” I finally answered.

“You haven’t told me how you feel.”

“You didn’t tell me Cameron gave you the third degree,” I threw back at him. “Over this. Us.”

His smile was slow and bashful. A nice surprise. “That’s because it wasn’t a big deal. And I kind of enjoyed it.”

“That’s what Adalyn said,” I admitted. And God, there were so many things I could or should have said then, but I didn’t. I didn’t jump straight to the conversation we should have been having, either. “Smile bigger for me?” I asked, and before he knew what was coming, my phone was on his face and I was snapping those pictures he’d mentioned.

Matthew pursed his lips. “I thought you were done with that?”

“Bobbi would love this,” I said with a shrug. I went up on my knees and scooted closer, pointing the camera at him from a new angle. I schooled my face into a blank expression, trying to imitate her. “Domestic pictures. Chop chop. Tick tock. More stroking, less chatting. And can you look more hot and less depressed?”

Matthew narrowed his eyes at me.

“Not hot enough,” I reported after checking some of them. “You look like Pedro peed in your—”

“Get over here,” he said. And suddenly, I was dragged down onto the grass by a strong arm and planted right beside Pedro Pigscal.

On Matthew’s lap.

I swallowed at the unforeseen change, at what I felt at my back, at the fact I was sharing a lap—my fiancé’s—with a teacup pig. Giggling came from our left. María Vasquez and a few kids. A few people stared, too. Robbie, who was back, smirked to himself.

I cleared my throat. “I hope you don’t try this with Bobbi.”

“Jealous?” Matthew asked. But I could hear the amusement in his words. I could alsofeelthose words rumbling in his chest.

Bracing my hands on his legs, I rearranged myself and snatched Pedro so he’d rest more comfortably on my lap. “More like intrigued at the idea of whether she would snap you in two like a twig if you did,” I said. At which he chuckled. “Now, if you don’t mind telling me why I’m sitting on you?”

“Domestic pictures.” One of his arms came around my waist, his hand latching on to my side. I went very still, only my chest moving with the breath I took. “Is this okay, Josie?”

It wasn’t. Not really. But it was in the way he meant. “Yeah.”

“I wanted to make sure,” he offered. His head came down a little, his voice growing closer. “You didn’t seem to appreciate that kiss on the cheek.”

Thing was, I had. “How do you want to do this?” I asked, decidedly ignoring that. I felt Matthew’s hum against my back, and I realized in that instant that I was spending a lot of time in this man’s arms lately, and a lot more was to come. So maybe it was time for me to stop acting surprised. “Hold on,” I said before Matthew could suggest how to approach the task at hand. I tugged at my hoodie, slipping it off over my head. “Now. I didn’t splurge on these yoga clothes for nothing.”

Two things happened at the same time. Matthew’s hand went back to its place on my waist, only now, thanks to my crop top and the missing layer, that was my skin. His fingers spread, and a murmured word I couldn’t make out dropped from his lips.

My belly fluttered, then dipped. And I had no choice but tobring my phone up in the air just so I wouldn’t think of that. Matthew’s free hand wrapped around my smaller one. The warmth of his palm, his skin against mine, once more overwhelming me.

I watched as his thumb changed the settings of the camera and he turned around the phone. He snapped a couple of photos. And not satisfied with that, he shifted the angle of our arms and took some more.

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