Page 78 of The Fiance Dilemma

Matthew stopped at the bar. It was a lot less crowded now that most guests had drifted toward the trays of charcuterie near the house.

He faced me, and I didn’t know if it was the adrenaline releasing or the fact we were somewhat alone, but I felt my whole body relax. The corners of his mouth twitched, satisfied.

“About what?” I repeated.

His smile turned sly. Dangerous. Enticing. “We’re having that private moment I was promised.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“I don’t think we’re supposed to do this if we’ve picked the wine selection,” I murmured, watching the waiter fill up the first glass in a line of six.

Matthew stopped him with a hand. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.”

I ignored how surprisingly hot that had been and watched the waiter nodding and walking away, leaving the display of bottles in front of us.

“Wow,” I observed. “He really left six bottles of very expensive wine unsupervised. They must know we’re bride and groom.”

There was no reason for me to freeze at the last three words, but I did. Maybe it was how easily they’d left me, or the familiarity of saying them, as if my mouth was used to working around them. Or the fact that it was the first time I acknowledged us as bride and groom. Out loud. Casually. Like nothing.

I gave myself a shake. “You know what I mean.”

Matthew’s eyes remained on me a second before returning to the bottle he held in his hand. “I do.”

“Let’s strategize,” I offered quickly. “We should think what we’re going to tell Bobbi when she finds out we had a sit-down with Willa. Let’s think of exactly what we said and how we said it and when we said it. Yes. That way we’ll know what’s on that tape.”

Matthew frowned at the glass he’d just filled. “All right,” he conceded. “But we can do that while we drink.”

I arched my brows. “Getting drunk is not going to help us strategize.”

“Who said anything about getting drunk?” He turned back to me, leaning an elbow on the bar. “This is a wine tasting. For us.” He pointed his head at the far end of the bar. “It says so on the—very classy—sign:Andrew Underwood is pleased to welcome you into his home to celebrate the engagement of Josephine and Matthew with a local selection of wines for your tasting.”

“Which we selected,” I repeated with a light laugh. “You and me. We sat down at Josie’s two days ago, in the evening, and picked six out of a long list. We know exactly how they taste.”

“Thing is, I’ve totally forgotten,” Matthew said with a shrug. “In fact, I can’t remember a single thing from that day, except for something about a tiramisu and no longer feeling sad.”

It was hard to ignore the way my chest constricted at that. “There was your pie too,” I said, voice the slightest bit wobbly. “That I loved. Remember now?”

There was a moment in which we looked at each other. Just that. Just gazed into each other’s eyes. Then he made a thinking face, looking so unbearably cute that it cost me a great deal of willpower to shoot him a warning glance. A reluctant sigh left him. “We should really act like bride and groom.”

The wording—or the words, once again—made me frown.

Matthew continued, “Willa has been staring at us since we leftthe table,” and I didn’t need to turn to know it was true. I trusted Matthew. Unlike me, he wouldn’t lie. Only thing was, now I wondered if this was the only reason why he insisted on us having that private moment. “If we strategize, as you suggested, it’ll look like she got to us. And I don’t trust her, or her intentions, after this afternoon.”

I didn’t either. Not completely. I knew she was doing her job, whatever that was at the end of the day, but… “We’re running out of allies,” I said with a sigh. “You never trusted Bobbi. Or Andrew. Now Willa. You don’t trust anybody.”

“Not around you, I don’t.” My lips parted with surprise, and his brows met, his expression turning intent. “Andrew’s also been looking like he wants to approach but doesn’t know how. I’ve waited all evening for him to do it, and I’m done with that, too.”

I’m done with that, too.

He was done with what? Waiting? And what was whatever else he was done with?

Matthew’s arms rose in the space between us, and he stepped closer, crowding my space in a way that had my heart skipping a beat or two. “Can I have this?” he asked, giving the handkerchief I had around my hair a soft tug. I nodded my head, overwhelmed by how nice he smelled and how good that sudden lack of space between us felt. “Thank you,” he said, voice going low. I felt him make work of the already loose knot, then my hair cascaded down. Goose bumps erupted at my shoulder blades at the tickle of my hair against my skin. “Close your eyes.”

My mouth parted with a shaky, “Matthew.”

“Close them for me, Baby Blue,” he insisted, as if my warning had worked. It hadn’t been for him. It was for me. And yet my eyelids fluttered shut. He hummed with something that could only be described as delight. If delight could ever sound a little too deep and dark. “I’m going to tie this around your eyes,” he explained softly,more of that cadence hugging his words. “You seem to know these so well that this is the only way to taste them.”

The silk fell against my skin, anticipation surging deep inside me. His wrists grazed the sides of my head. I sensed his fingers moving around a knot. My heart thrummed. “We’re doing a blind tasting?”

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