Page 26 of Never Say Yes To Your Fake Husband

That’s another thing I’m fixing right now. “I’ll make sure you have a buffer. I’m sorry I didn’t think about it before.”

She looks horrified. “No!” Her eyes well up and I know I’ve said something wrong by trying to be nice. “No, please. Don’t do that. I’m fine. I make enough money to live by giving guitar lessons. It’s not a big deal.”

“Itisa big deal. Your comfort and your safety is a big deal to me.”

She doesn’t throw back at me that I didn’t care enough before. She just bites her bottom lip. “I’m happy where I am, and the area is fine. The condo might be old, but I’m comfortable, and it’s home enough for me. I’m not that far from my parents either, so that’s nice, and I’m in a central location for the lessons I give. If I moved, my students would have to travel further, and I can’t ask them to do that. I’ll get new students of course, but it’s not fair to the existing ones I have who have been with me, some of them for years.”

She’d think of others first. Yes, of course she would because that’s Weland. Beautiful in all ways. I was captivated by her song at first, but now I’m captivated by her.

“You’re looking at me funny,” she states after a moment.

I quickly shift my eyes back down to the menu, but I can’t help but ask, “How so?”

“I don’t know. You have that look like you’re gazing at the stars. I’m no star, Sterling. I’m just me. Flawed and imperfect like everyone else. I hope you know that. When people first get together, it can be…it can be hard to see those flaws, and thenthe disappointment comes later. I want you to see me as I am, with all my flaws and imperfections included. That way, I feel like you would never be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” I leap up from my chair and shove it back. It only takes a second for me to get to Weland. I take her hands and pull her up. Then, I hug her close. “I could never be disappointed.” She smells like the restaurant, like cheese bread and garlic, and her own sweet floral scent. I’m enchanted. “Some things might wear off with time, that’s true, but I’ll never be disappointed.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I don’t like when people do that. I try to never do that myself.”

I kiss her forehead. I want more, but we’re still in a public place, even in this private room. “I mean it.” I’d like to do something cheesy, like dance her over to the fire and sway without music. I’d like to wrap her in my arms and hold her for the rest of the night. For the rest of my life.

For the rest of my life.

What the heck is going on? She’s right. We basically just met. The sensations rushing through us are hormonal, physical, and new. They’ll wear off or wear down. One day, they won’t shine as bright. She’s worried I’m not thinking clearly. I know my brain isn’t muddled, but she’s right. Slow is the best way to go. Slow and seeing clearly, thinking clearly, making clear decisions, and being real.

I kiss her on the forehead one more time. “Not going to happen.” That’s a promise I can keep. She could never, ever be a disappointment.

When she’s seated again, blushing so prettily and slightly unsettled, it really makes me want to take her up in my arms and do everything I was thinking about. Dancing. Kissing. Hugging. Holding. Leaving right now and taking her back to her place.

But no, I want to have a nice dinner. I want this night to be about her, for her.

“Chicken,” she says so softly that I almost miss it, even in this quiet room with only the mood music and the vague sounds of other people behind the closed door to compete. “It looks good. Not the chicken of the sea. The chicken of the land.”

“We can get both and try some of each other’s. Chicken of the sea and the land.”

Her smile shouldn’t be so dazzling, but it is, and it goes straight to my chest. There’s been a decided absence of warmth in my life. It started when I was young. I learned to shut out the goodness along with the bad. I learned how to shut myself off, so I didn’t get hurt. I should be using those same skills now. Walling myself up to prevent those daggers from slipping in—the ones that life is so fond of using to destroy me from the inside out. But I can’t. It’s impossible with this woman. I haven’t even considered it, not since the first time I saw her in person in that club.

“Chicken of the sea and the land it is then.”

Chapter thirteen

Weland

Isaw myself coming home with my super hot husband and maybe getting a goodnight kiss. Or maybe being brave enough to give one. My brain was telling me to take it slow while the rest of me was screaming full tilt, high blast, pedal to the freaking metal that I dive in with both feet and get wet fast. Really wet. And not the kind of wet that involved water. Unless it was hot shower sex. Or hot do the dishes together and then have sex on the kitchen counter sex. Or maybe hot soapy water to clean the house and have astoundingly hot sex on various surfaces that will then need to be cleaned again sex.

I didn’t see myself coming home to the Greedy Gretchen Trio of Terribleness, but one look at them and then at Sterling’s jaw locked up so granite tight that it could nutcracker a heck of a lot more than nuts and at the haunted look in his eyes and Iknow. I know this is our worst nightmare coming to life.

“Stay here. I’ll try and talk them down.” He opens the car door and I scramble out the passenger side. There’s no way I’mleaving him to face this on his own. I try to shoot him a look of support when his eyes bug out at me getting out. I hope he understands it because I’m not sure I’m so good at telepathy or telegraphing or whatever it is I’m trying to do.

At least Sterling’s hands don’t ball into fists. He doesn’t go on the defensive like I expect him to. Apparently, my front doorstep isn’t a warzone. He must be really good at meeting with people who are grouchy and need to be talked down because he smiles. Yes. Smiles. Anyone would think he’s actually happy to see his cousins.

Meanwhile, I’m over here freaking the heck out on the inside, and just a little part of me is mourning the fact that I’m not going to have any type of sex at all now, which is probably good because it’s way, way too fast no matter what my body tells me I might want. Wants are not needs. I don’t need to have kinky, blissful, hot, amazing, blow-my-mind sex with the hottest man on earth. I’ll survive another day without it. I’ve survived an entire lifetime so far.

Regardless, my ovaries still want to go completely homicidal on these three for messing up my night.

Just saying.

“Joseph. Lucas. Toe-Toe.”

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