Page 76 of The Wrong Fiancée

"We?"

"You and I."

I scoffed. "Sure! Why don't we buy two of these places? One for you and one for your family."

"If that's what you want."

"Dean," I protested.

"What? You said you were giving us a chance, and we're dating. We should live together."

I scowled. "Fine, then move in withme."

Dean shrugged. "Okay."

"Ihave a one-bedroom cottage, all of which can fit into this bedroom," I reminded him.

"You have only one bed." He winked at me. "Means we can sleep together."

"We could be sleeping in the same bed already, but you're, for some bizarre reason, protectingmyhonor."

He came off the bed and put his arms around me. "I sometimes can't believe you're with me, that we're together."

"We're still figuringusout," I tried to sound firm, but who was I kidding? I was all in. This man made me happy. I could feel that I did the same for him.

"I know, baby." He kissed my forehead. "Let's get going, we have people waiting to meet you."

I nibbled my lower lip. "What if they don't like me?"

Duncan, Dean's oldest brother, his wife Elsa, and their daughter Solène had come a few days before the rest of the Archers arrived for their week-long summer vacation that they took together as a family.

I'd met them briefly, and Duncan looked freaking scary. He was stern and serious. His wife was a petite French woman who had a sweet laugh and eyes that sparkled. She was half-Martinican, which explained her complexion. She was a baker in Paris and apparently made the best croissants that Dean had ever eaten.

"They'll like you."

"Did they like Felicity?"

I know, I know, I shouldn't compare myself to his ex, but it was impossible not to. He'd been engaged to her like five minutes ago.

"Duncan had no opinion. Elsa and Emilia didn't like her; in fact, they have admitted that they tolerated her."

At least that showed they had good sense.

I took a deep breath and looked down at my yellow sundress. "Do I look okay?"

The sundress was held together with bows on my brown shoulders. I had left my hair loose, as it was still a little wet. Ididn't wear much makeup, but I had made some effort with eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick.

"You look fucking sexy, like a gift I want to unwrap. Would the dress come off if I opened these?" He toyed with one of the bows.

"Yes." I clamped down a hand on his. "But," I added seductively, "maybe later?"

He laughed. "You're just trying to get into my pants."

"I'm not succeeding," I joked.

The thing was that I didn't mind that we weren't having sex. I mean, we were both frustrated as hell. Still, I knew from experience that if we started to make love, we'd be in bed for a long while, and we'd get to know each other's bodies really well but not our hearts and minds.

He held my hand as we walked out to the garden where dinner was being served. It was going to be casual, I'd been told, and it was. Tiki torches lit up our dinner table.

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