Page 93 of The Fiance Dilemma

I didn’t know what that could be. Specifically. There were one too many things hanging over our heads at the moment. And we’d been so caught up in the rehearsalweekend,not just dinner, as it had been executively decided by Bobbi, that it was hard to tell them apart. For me, it was that kiss. That was all I seemed to care about these days. And it was the one thing continuously escaping away from me. If we weren’t with Bobbi, discussing something, Andrew was somehow there.

Matthew’s words at the party had seemed to have an effect, and last time we’d sat down with my father, it had been to discuss his side of the guest list. He’d been very apologetic about it, and everything really, and went as far as asking whether I wanted him to do something about Duncan. Whatever that entailed. I’d declined, but I’d been able to tell that Matthew had been content at Andrew asking.

The memory of that meeting made me think of Matthew’s family. He’d said they’d be there. But I couldn’t know whether that was true, or something he was expected to say. I didn’t dare to ask.

One day at a time,he’d said at my truck.

Yet here we were, trying out catering options for a—

“Will you sit on my lap?”

A half cough, half laugh toppled out of me. I sensed him move,and I stopped him, looking around even though I couldn’t hear Stu or Bobbi. “What?No.”

Matthew looked so hurt it was almost comical. “Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not a reason,” he pointed out. “Come sit on my lap.”

I couldn’t believe this was a conversation we were having. I glanced back over my shoulder. No trace of them in the deli. “Where do you think they’ve gone? Maybe the kitchen?” I turned back around and found Matthew’s pout in front of my face. “Are you serious right now?”

“I never joke about my lap.”

A laugh puffed out of me. “I don’t even know what to tell you.”

“Tell me you’ll sit on me, then.”

“Give me a good reason,” I said, fighting him. Because what if I didn’t, huh? Then what? I’d bereallysitting on his lap, with his face right there, up close, and then, God knew what I’d do. This man had the power to disarm me with a smile, no matter what experience I had with men or smiles. “A single reason why.”

“Your head,” he answered. “It was going places. Places I can’t reach. Places I don’t like, just based on how your brows curl right here.” His finger touched a spot on his forehead. “I’d rather have you smiling. And I know you like my lap so…”

So he’d just managed to disarm me, then. Just like I knew he could. My hand, which had a mind of its own, reached out, falling on his forearm. I squeezed. “You’re so—”

Matthew moved before I could finish. He somehow snatched my wrist and pulled, softly but firmly enough that I stumbled into his chest. His other arm slid around my waist and, boom, he’d maneuvered me into his lap.

“Am I not a much better choice than a chair?” he asked, voice smug.

I blew air through my lips in response, but yes. Yes, he was. So Ididn’t even try to complain, even though that special kind of warmth had climbed up my face at the closeness of his chest and… well. Everything else. I tipped my chin up, decidedly making the best out of this, and then I shifted my ass. I made myself at home, snuggling in his lap, just like he wanted, as if I wasn’t sitting sideways on top of a man who had declared himself better than a chair.

“I’m sure this is something expected anyway,” I murmured. He wanted to distract me? To stop my mind from wandering off? Okay. “Engaged couples are handsy. They get carried away in the honeymoon period and all that. Right?”

There was understanding in Matthew’s hum. There was something else, too. Gratitude? Frustration? I couldn’t tell those apart with my ass planted so close to his crotch. “We wouldn’t want anyone in the deli to think we’re not one of those couples.”

It’s just Stu and Bobbi in the deli,I thought. But I said, “We really, seriously, absolutely wouldn’t want that.”

Stu popped up in front of us with a big plate of beef cuts. “Here you go, guys.” He set it on the table, not batting an eyelash at the fact that I was using my fiancé as a chair. “This is our chuck roast, and some of our London broil. Hope you enjoy.”

“That looks incredible,” Matthew said. “Thanks, Stu. I think that’s the last?”

“That’s correct.” The bearded man gave him one satisfied nod. “I’ll be in back nailing down all the details with Miss Shark if you need us,” he added. “Pretty sure I’m about to haggle like I never have ever before, so please wish me luck.”

We watched him leave, and only when I heard the swinging door lock into place did I say, “Do you think it’s only details they’ll be nailing? Should we go check?”

“Absolutely not,” Matthew said. “Unless a scream comes from the back—and let’s face it, it’ll be Stu’s—we’re not going anywhere close to that door.”

“Huh. You make a good point,” I said, returning to the plate Stu’d just set before us, grabbing my fork and snatching a bite.“Oh wow,”I said through my mouthful. “This is incredible. Yes. I want this. Hundred times over.”

Matthew let out a soft chuckle before rearranging me in his lap so he could have a better look over my shoulder. He sniffed, reminding me of a hungry animal.

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