Page 7 of Trust Me With Forever

I focused back on our conversation and poking the bear a little. “Anything, hmm? So if I wanted a million dollars in quarters, you’d do it?”

“Why the fuck would you want a million dollars in quarters?”

“Maybe I want to be like Scrooge McDuck and have a money vault I can admire.”

“He swam in it, and I somehow think it’d hurt to swim in coins. Bills might work. But even then, they’d be covered in germs.”

“Coins would be easier to clean.”

He sighed. “Are you really asking for this, or is this another test?”

“It’s called teasing, Rafe. Have you never heard of it?”

He grunted. “Yes. But asking for a vault of coins is just bloody ridiculous.”

I smiled. “You just said bloody like a Brit.”

He growled. “It happens. I spent nearly twenty years there. I even had to adjust my pronunciation for some words, just to be understood. Twenty being one of them. Twun-tee and not twun-dee like we say here.”

“Twun-tee. That was your jersey number, too. That must’ve been a pain in the ass. Oh, wait, arse.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. And as Rafe frowned harder, I laughed even more.

Eventually he asked, “Are you finished? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I need bacon and coffee to tame this hangover.”

“Sausage is better.”

“Oh, hell no. You didn’t just say that.”

“Yep, I did. My aunt has a special recipe for homemade sausage that makes bacon look like junk food.”

“Well, that just means more bacon for me. Let’s have some shitty coffee, find food, and we can drive back. I can be silent, but I can also answer any other questions you might have.”

“Any question?”

“Related to my proposal, Abigail. I reserve the right to stay quiet if you bring up silly shit like the coin vault again.”

I sniffed. “It’s not my fault that you’re so serious. You’re getting close to forty, after all. So I guess that means you’re no fun.”

“Yes, because all twenty-six-year-olds talk about swimming in money vaults,” he drawled. “And I’m thirty-six, not nearly forty.”

“Closer than I am, Grandpa.”

“Abigail.”

His warning tone only made me laugh. “Is that supposed to work on me?”

He ran his hand over his hair—that seemed to be a habit of his now—and said, “Maybe? You’re different from the otherwomen I’ve been with in the past. Not that we’re together or anything. But you know what I mean.”

Ah, yes. His legion of former women. I’d read about that over the years. Teenage Abigail had been devastated. But now? It was his past and had nothing to do with me.

Even if he was my husband.

Husband.Weird to think of Rafe as that since I never thought I’d have one after what happened with Travis Doucey.

But, nope, I wasn’t going to waste brain cells thinking about that douchebag. So I focused on Rafe. “Well, I am a Wolfe sibling, after all. If you were looking for someone to fawn over you or bat her eyelashes or be demure, then you’ve got the wrong fake wife.”

“I wouldn’t want a woman like that as my wife.”

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