Page 67 of Shoot Your Shot

“You’re going to stay in here, okay?” I kiss Rocket’s head before setting him down on the bed. “I don’t need you getting your ass kicked again while I’m gone.”

When I walk out of the guest bedroom, Kolt is standing in the hallway, looking down at his phone. Before he notices me, I let my eyes drink in my husband in his suit, and I have to actually focus on not letting drool slip out of my mouth because he looks so good. He didn’t wear a suit on our wedding day—we didn’t have time for that when all we wanted to do was tie the knot. But looking at him in his suit now, I sort of wish he had. Who am I kidding though? Whether it’s sweatpants and a hoodie, jeans and a T-shirt, or a full-on suit … the man is delicious.

Kolt is one of those men that women—and men—stop to look at. He’s stupidly attractive, yet he has a somewhat-unapproachable expression. That is, until he looks at me.

Well, me or Amelia Sterns.

This morning, right when I got to the office, he sent me a message, saying that he had gotten me a dress, that it would be delivered to me, that we had plans at six thirty, and to have a good day. My heart tingles because it feels like we just started dating again while also knowing everything about one another.

His head lifts, and his eyes roam my body from head to toe. When his lips part and he takes in a breath before swallowingharshly, a feeling of content washes over me. Because I love, more than anything, that I can still get that reaction from him. Even after everything, but especially after all these years since we first met.

“Wow,” he utters, dragging his hand down the back of his head and staring at me mindlessly. “You look …” He swallows. “Yeah … you look good.” He inhales again sharply. “Reallygood.”

“Thanks,” I say, twirling and grinning shyly, as if it really were a first date and that we hadn’t been married for ten years. “You picked out a good dress.”

“I don’t think it’s the dress anyone’s going to be looking at tonight, Buttercup,” he says slowly, his voice raspier than normal. “You’re stunning.”

My cheeks flood with heat, but I pull myself together. “Should we get going?”

For a second, it’s almost as if he can’t respond. Blinking, he nods sluggishly. “Yeah. Let’s, uh … let’s get going.”

Fumbling around, he finds his keys and stuffs his phone into his pocket.

Why is he so nervous?

He heads toward the door, and when he opens it, he waves his hand. “Ladies first.”

Once I walk past him, I instantly feel his eyes on my ass. I couldn’t help but notice the dress he’d chosen was a little too tight on my butt. Then again, he’s always been an ass man. Proudly too. Before I left, I’m not sure there was a single day that he didn’t come home and squeeze my ass, no matter where I was standing.

Glancing back at him, I smile like a fool. Because this really does feel like we’re headed out on our first date.

As his hand slides to my lower back and he opens the passenger door for me, my eyes find him, and my heart skips a beat.

Why am I fighting it? All I want is this man.

It’s hard to enjoy the elaborate dinner in front of me when the only thing I want to eat is my wife.

Fuck, she’s perfect.

Her short hair is pulled back with some pieces hanging around her face, and her lips are painted red, making them even plumper than usual. Her dress is cut low enough to show off how perfect her tits are, but the cherry on top is her ass. Thank God she’s sitting down because if she wasn’t, my dick would be fully hard instead of a semi.

Even just looking at her brings me peace. And I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep her this time. I let her go once; it’s not happening again—despite what I told her.

“Is it good?” I say, clearing my throat, which doesn’t even need to be cleared. “Your steak?”

I’m not a nervous guy. Usually, I don’t give two fucks enough to feel uncomfortable. But this feels like a first impression that’sgoing to determine the rest of my life. I’m fucking terrified of messing it up.

I mean, Cinderella fell for me once. How the hell am I going to be lucky enough to fool her into it twice?

She nods, covering her mouth as she finishes chewing. “Very good. And yours?”

“It’s good,” I say, realizing we both keep saying the wordgood. “It’s great,” I add in.

“Great,” she answers before our eyes connect.

For a moment, it’s eerily quiet between us. Then, suddenly, her eyes crinkle at the sides, and a smile begins to spread across her lips. I can tell she’s going to laugh, and I’m just not sure if that’s an indicator that our first official date since we’ve been separated is going decent or down the shitter.

Putting her napkin over her mouth, she laughs harder, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.” She attempts to hide a snort but fails miserably. “It’s just … why is this so weird? We’ve talked about the weather, and now, we’re talking about our food.” She slaps her palms against the table, widening her eyes while still smiling. “I feel like I’m making you very uncomfortable. Which is pretty strange, seeing as wearemarried and all.”

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