Page 105 of Married With Malice

Luca has my consent to march into the kitchen, toss me over his broad, manly shoulder and drag me to the nearest remote log cabin for some steamy lumberjack role play.

CHOP

Dear god, inject this into my veins. And then…

“Anni.”

I shriek.

The mug wobbles in my hands but mercifully doesn’t fall.

Sadie’s eyebrows shoot up. She’s wearing a different set of overalls today. These are dark denim. “Are you okay?”

“Absolutely. I was just drinking coffee. And looking out the window. Luca’s out there.”

Sadie arches her back and gives her belly an absent rub before shuffling over.

I’ve never given a passing second of thought to being pregnant. Being around Sadie has changed my attitude. Or perhaps the attitude shift has more to do with Luca. When I imagine being pregnant with our child, feeling the tiny kicks of a new life that’s half me and half him, I nearly melt into a puddle on the kitchen tile.

Sadie joins me at the sink and takes in the sight of Luca building a pile of firewood while inexplicably shirtless. “These Connelly boys sure come from good stock.”

“Yes they do.” I sip my coffee to thwart the drool threatening to slip from the corner of my mouth.

Speaking of Connelly boys, the eldest now comes thudding into the kitchen with heavy booted footsteps and a stern glare of disapproval. Cale yanks his leather work gloves off, leans moodily against the breakfast bar and gestures at the window.

“What the hell is that fool doing? It’s twenty degrees outside and he’s dressed for a day at the damn beach.”

“Shush,” Sadie says. “You’re interfering with your brother’s game.”

“We don’t even need more wood. What are you talking about?”

Sadie explains with the patience of a saint. “Clearly, Luca is creating some mountain man porn for his wife. Leave him alone.”

Cale appears disgusted by this information but that’s just tough. I’m going to salivate over my half naked husband whether Cale approves or not.

However, we’re not the only ones who have noticed Luca’s lack of weather appropriate clothing.

Just as Luca slays another block of wood, Peggy slams out of the house. I can’t hear her, but I see her lips move as she mutters angrily to herself. She stalks right over to Luca, speaks some harsh words that cause him to pause mid-chop, and then she throws one of her circus-colored blanket sweaters over his upper body.

My view has now been ruined but Luca seems amused. He endures Peggy’s lecture, sets his ax down and directs a wry grin at the window.

He knew all along that I was watching. Of course he did.

In the end, he agreeably follows Peggy back into the house.

Sadie pats my arm. “You should go rescue Luca before Peggy makes him cry.”

This is a possibility. Peggy, the sharp-tongued assistant caretaker of Bright Hearts Ranch, has a way of taking it personally when she finds someone making unwise choices. I speak from experience.

With the rental car out of commission, Cale drove his truck up to the resort to fetch us as soon as the roads were clear. Within ten minutes of my arrival, Peggy had plunked me down on a chair in her kitchen, deposited a bowl of hearty stew in front of my face and ordered me to eat it.

“So you don’t get muddled and wander into a blizzard again,” she announced and then watched me spoon up every mouthful with hawk eyes that never wavered. Declaring that I’m unlikely to get ‘muddled’ again anytime soon was a waste of time.

Before rescuing Luca from Peggy’s tough love, I take a detour to his room in order to grab a shirt for him. This room is less exciting than the Halloween room but it’s cozy with a chaotically colored quilt that could only have come from the hands of Peggy.

Luca tends to be neat so I’m unsurprised to see the bed nicely made with none of his belongings strewn on the floor. He even hung some of his clothes in the tiny closet, expecting that we’ll be here for a little while. Somehow the sight of his most casual clothing items carefully hung on the closet rack delights me to no end.

I select a dark blue hoodie with the name of his law school embroidered on the front and after checking to make sure no one is observing from the doorway, I hold it up to my face and inhale. Beneath the fresh linen scent of laundry detergent, there’s a musky hint of his cologne. My mind summons a jumble of naughty memories and I’m forced to quit sniffing his clothes before I swoon.

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