Page 3 of The Wrong Heart

I straighten in my seat, intrigued. “Yes?”

“Thereissomeone willing to perform this harrowing task. He’s ridiculously good looking.”

“Go on.”

“Healwaysremembers to put the toilet seat down.”

I place both hands over my heart. “Impossible.”

“He doesn’t snore. He never steals the covers. He cooks a mean goulash, enjoys doing the dishes, and has quite an impressive… weapon.”

A wink follows, and I swoon. “I love goulash.”

“We must act now. Time is running out.”

“But…” My bottom lip juts out, pouty and adorable. “Peach pie.”

We both glance down at the half-eaten confection adorning my plate, gooey and glazed, topped with a heaping dollop of whipped cream. As much as I love Charlie’s “ultra-healing weapon,” there’s no way I’m leaving until I finish this pie.

“Fine,” Charlie relents, leaning against his seat until the chair tips back on two legs. I always scold him for it, but he does it anyway. One of these days he’ll fall, and I will laugh. “I suppose it’s hard to compete with that. At least you’ll die happy.”

A smile breaks out across my face as I dig the tines of my fork into the warm dessert, my gaze still fixed on the man across the table. His bangs fall over his forehead in a swirl of chocolate and caramel, a boyish charm that adds to his youthful appearance. His dimpled grin is the icing on the cake.

Or… the whipped cream on the pie.

My tongue licks at the sweet cream coating my fork, and I watch my husband’s amber eyes heat with bronzed flames.

I’m an evil tease.

He captures his lip between his teeth. “On second thought…”

Five minutes later, the bill has been paid, Geoffrey has been generously tipped, and all thoughts of pie scatter from my mind as we skip out of the bar and into the setting sun.

The southern Wisconsin air feels fresh and musky, a prelude to springtime and new beginnings. The faint scent of impending rainfall fractures the heady Saturday night aroma of downtown pizza joints, mingling with engine fumes from the stream of traffic beside us.

I swing our interlaced hands back and forth as we glide down the sidewalk, my smile bright and beaming like the string lights connecting one lamppost to the next. Passersby return the sentiment with their own cordial waves, head bobs, and smiles to rival mine.

“I’ll never understand it,” Charlie murmurs, his feet trying to keep up with my swiftly moving legs as I pull him forward, reveling in the way the breeze dances across my skin.

“Understand what?”

“How you suck everybody in like that. You’re like a happy vacuum.”

My giggles have me doubling over, so I squeeze his palm to keep me upright. “God, Charlie. You can’t be slinging those sexy nicknames at me in public.” His rumble of laughter floats up to me, and I shoot him a nose crinkle over my shoulder. “And I can’t take all the credit. It’s Saturday night. People are always happier on Saturday nights.”

He gives me a tug until I’m falling back against his chest, two arms encircling my waist in a protective grip. “No, Mel. It’s all you.”

People dodge us when we come to a complete stop in the middle of the sidewalk, but we’re uncaring, totally oblivious to the world around us. It’s just Charlie and Melody standing beneath quiet rainclouds, a new chapter blooming like the magnolia trees budding in our backyard. My eyes close through a sigh of contentment.

Charlie’s chin rests atop my shoulder, his warm breath kissing the curve of my neck. “Do you think it worked?”

A grin curls my lips. I twist around in his embrace, catching the quick flash of nerves in his eyes. “You make it sound so technical.”

“Well, it sort of is. It’s science.”

“You’re really bringing your sexyA-game tonight. Youdowant to get laid, right?”

Charlie presses his forehead to mine, tawny bangs tickling my hairline. And then his hand crawls up the back of my thigh, landing on my backside and cupping gently, our groins melding together. “What do you think?”

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