Page 101 of Married With Malice

I wink at her.

Her lips twitch and she blushes.

We haven’t yet had the serious conversation we need to have. It’s coming soon.

“Hey folks.” The squat resort manager appears and claps his pudgy hands together to get our attention. “There’s food and live piano music in the ballroom and we’ll be starting the countdown to midnight in a little while.”

The man’s eyes land on me and then quickly shift elsewhere. I feel kind of bad for snarling in his face and scaring the shit out of him yesterday.

After exchanging some pointed glances, the three Gentry women rise and claim their husbands.

“Where are you taking me?” Chase wants to know as his wife drags him away. “Will I have fun?”

“We’re going to the party,” she says. “Let the kids have some privacy and enjoy the fire.”

She pushes him down the hall before he can argue. Creed and his wife are right behind them. Cord pauses and gives me an encouraging smile before slinging a heavily inked arm around the shoulders of his wife, Saylor.

Once the Gentrys are gone, Anni and I now have the lounge to ourselves. The reception desk is dark and the big stone fireplace crackles at my back. Trills of piano music echo from the ballroom, along with a smattering of laughter.

I motion to the couch. “Can I sit down with you?”

She sets her mug down on a long coffee table. “Of course.”

A flutter of nerves rolls around in my belly as I settle in beside her.

She eyes me and plucks at my hoodie. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Sloppy?” I scrub a hand over my stubbled jaw. I probably look as if I just rolled out of bed.

“Yes. Although I’d call it comfortable. Relaxed.”

I stretch my arm across the back of the sofa and drape it around her shoulders. She responds by inching closer to me.

“I guess we’re skipping the countdown,” she says.

“We can count down to midnight right here. Anyway, we’re underdressed for a party.”

She glances down at herself. “Not true. These are my designer flannel pajama pants.”

“Right. And these are my runway sweats.”

When she elbows me with a sniff of laughter, I take advantage of the situation and pull her into my lap. She so obviously pleased that I have to scold myself for failing to do this regularly.

Her hair is gathered in a loose ponytail and I slide the band out, running my fingers through the soft strands. She’s free of makeup, exactly how I like her. Those dark eyes of hers that hold secrets and own my heart, observe me solemnly as I finish stroking her hair and use my free hand to reach into the deep pocket of my sweatpants.

“I have something for you.” I pull out the small jewelry box. “I meant to give it to you for Christmas.”

She accepts the box and runs her fingertips over the embossed lettering on the lid before prying it open. She stares at the charm bracelet and worries at her bottom lip, her thoughts mysterious.

I take the bracelet out and she cooperates as I slide it on the wrist that isn’t covered with a bandage and kiss the back of her hand. When she finally raises her head, there’s a mournful cast to her eyes.

“Thank you, Luca. I really love it. And I’m sorry that I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Wrong.” I wrap my arms around her soft body. “You’re all I need.”

My heart does a little manic skip of joy when she lays her cheek on my chest and nestles even closer. I can feel every breath she takes. This is how I want us to be, tonight and forever.

In the corner, a stately grandfather clock ticks away the seconds, creeping closer to midnight. There are so many words jumbled in my head, all attached to deep feelings, all competing to be spoken first. I’ll get to them, but first I have a request to make.

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