Page 96 of All Bets Are Off

TWENTY-THREE

“Hey, Fruity Pebbles, I was thinking that we might go out for dinner tonight.”

Zach appeared from his room—which was essentially our room now—and stood in such a way that I had no choice but to look over at his ridiculous body, which was on full display since he was shirtless. Seriously, how did he have a body that good? Did he work out? I’d never seen him go to the gym.

“What’s up with that? Also, Fruity Pebbles is a no-go. That’s a dumb nickname.”

“It’s sweet, though. Just like you.” He flexed. “What’s up with what?” He obviously knew what I was referring to. Apparently, he was feeling flirty this morning.

“Your body,” I replied. “It’s all … bumpy … and stuff. Are you having an allergic reaction?”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re so funny.”

I laughed and shook my head before shoving the notebook I was working in to the side. “When do you work out?” Suddenly, I just had to know. Sure, his ego was being fed. There were worse things, though.

“I work out four times a week in the executive gym.”

“Really?” How come I didn’t know that? “Huh.”

“Do you like what you see?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I do. Take off your pants, and I’ll like it even better.”

There was no hesitation when he went for the button on his pants. I was more than happy to watch the show, but at that exact moment, a tentative knock on the main door drew my attention away from my half-naked husband.

“Did you order room service?” Zach asked hopefully. His pants were halfway down his sturdy thighs.

I shook my head and got up. “That would be my mother.”

“Your mother?” Horror washed over Zach’s features. “What is your mother doing here?”

“She’s helping me with the dancers. She thinks they’re getting a raw deal.” I opened the door without looking over my shoulder to see if Zach had fixed his outfit. “Hey, Mom.” I hugged her before ushering her inside.

She looked nervous, as if she expected to find a clown lurking in the corner. She’d stopped freezing me out weeks ago and was now trying to make up for lost time, which I took as a good thing. When I looked back at the hallway, it was empty. Apparently, Zach had made it back to our room. At least that was something.

“So, I love what you’ve done with the place,” Mom started.

“We haven’t done anything.”

“I know. I was being sarcastic.” She shot me a look. “This place is sterile, Livvie. You really need to jazz it up if you’re going to stay here.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. Sure, this was home. It was still as if we were living in a hotel room. Granted, it was a very large hotel room. It was a hotel room, nonetheless. “Oh, um…” What was I supposed to say here?

“Are you worried that Zach will be upset if you redecorate his bachelor pad?” Mom’s gaze was probing. Zach and I had beenmarried for almost two and a half months at this point. I’d seen her several times since the big announcement. She peppered me with questions at each meeting, but she hadn’t really dug her heels in for information. That felt like it might be changing today.

“I haven’t brought it up,” I replied. “I’m guessing he likes it the way it is, though.”

“Who likes what the way it is?” Zach asked as he reappeared. This time he was in one of his crisp work shirts and his pants were buttoned.

“Mom doesn’t like our aesthetic,” I replied. “She thinks we’re crap decorators.”

“I didn’t say that,” Mom scolded, giving me a dark look. “Don’t make me out to be some sort of interior design monster.”

“That’s exactly what you were saying,” I protested.

“I merely suggested that you were afraid to tell Zach you wouldn’t mind a splash of color in this place.” She looked around again, her upper lip curling. “Really, Zach, I love you, but this place looks like a hotel room.”

“It is a hotel room,” he reminded her.

---