Page 90 of Hidden By His Side

“You said we were exclusive,” she blurted out, cringing as he turned to blink at her. “That’s a relationship, right? Are we… in a relationship?” She mumbled the last, her cheeks heating.

Ramiro stepped toward her, his hands finding her shoulders, his thumbs stroking. “You want that, don’t you?” His head bent as he searched her eyes.

Summer nodded. She tried to picture introducing Ramiro to someone as her boyfriend. Not that she had anyone to introduce him to. Her parents had stopped talking to her years ago. “Boyfriend doesn’t fit you at all.” She laughed as she turned to pick up the meat.

Ramiro’s arms wrapped around her from behind, his lips brushing over her ear. “Husband sounds better, doesn’t it? Can you picture calling me husband?”

Tingles shot through her body. Marriage to Ramiro was a dream she’d imagined more than once. He’d be linked to her then.

“Y-yes,” she admitted in a whisper. “I can picture that.”

He chuckled into her skin, his lips moving against her neck and making her shiver. “I like the sound of it, too.”

He released her, moving to lean against the island.

Summer’s heart raced as she put the ground beef in the skillet. She frowned, whirling to face him. “Not like this. I want you to ask me properly.”

Ramiro’s eyes glittered as his lips spread in a grin.

“I mean it, Ram. I need the whole thing. I need you to… choose me.”

He nodded, his smile not fading. “I like hearing you all demanding like this. I’ll do it right, just like you want, maybe even surprise you with it.” He reached forward, taking her hands intohis and squeezing. “But I want you to know that I do choose you. I’ll always choose you, now, when I propose, when we’re old and wrinkled and I’m still holding on to you. You can call me anything as long as I can call you mine.”

The tension inside of her eased as she returned his smile. “And you’re mine.” She pulled free to turn back to the skillet, quickly flipping the meat when she realized it was sizzling in a big pile. “Now, stop distracting me.”

“I like distracting you,” he teased.

She opened her mouth to tease him back, but the smell of the sizzling meat wafted toward her, making her stomach suddenly heave. She choked on the sudden rise of bile in her throat, dropping the spatula on the floor as she lurched away from the stove and ran for the bathroom to heave into the toilet.

Ramiro already held back her hair. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

The sickness was gone almost as quickly as it had come. She spit one more time, flushing the toilet. Ramiro was already there with a washcloth, wiping her warm face and finally her mouth, leaving a trail of coolness behind.

“I’m not sure why it hit me so suddenly,” she said, her fingers twisting in her lap.

Ramiro took them in his, linking her fingers with his instead. “I read that the smell of meat can be an issue for some pregnant women. The meat—”

A shrill, shrieking sound blared from the kitchen. The smoke alarm.

“You didn’t turn off the stove?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Shit!” Ramiro muttered, racing for the kitchen.

There was smoke, but no fire. Summer wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry as she helped by going around to open all the windows and the sliding glass doors, hoping the air would clear quickly since the smell was already making her stomach lurch again.

“Go outside!” Ramiro ordered, looking worried. “Get some fresh air.”

Summer hesitated, wanting to help more, but at his stern expression, she headed into the backyard. The air was clear, and it helped. The sun had disappeared behind the trees, the day almost over. She felt a twinge at the thought and at the way it was ending.

If her insecurities hadn’t been dragging at her, they could have still been cuddled up on the couch, not this… mess she’d made the night into.

Summer hadn’t been in the backyard much before. Trees along the fence line added privacy. Most of the backyard was paved, with some sweet-smelling bushes at the edge of where the pavement ended. The smell helped to keep her nausea from taking over.

She settled into one of the Adirondack chairs, staring up at the darkening sky.

A shadow fell over her, big hands planted on either side of the chair. She knew it was Ramiro, she’d know him anywhere, buther body still stiffened and a pathetic squeak slipped out as his presence enclosed her.

He didn’t back away. Instead, he hovered closer. “You’re okay, Summer. It’s me,” his voice soothed. His forehead pressed against hers as his body remained over hers, not touching, just there, blocking out the last of the light.

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