Page 11 of Inappropriately Matched

Chapter Seven

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Clementine

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Ican’t get over thehappy feeling that swamps me at the sight of their house. In my eyes, it’s the picture of what a home should look like. Not like the Williams’ twenty-bedroom mansion, of which at least fifteen of them are never used.

The facade of their house is a modern, lived-in farmhouse. Oh, it’s wellkept, but there are signs of graceful aging.

It doesn’t look too big on the outside, three bedrooms at the most I would think on the inside, then something strikes me.

“Wait, is this your foster home?” It makes perfect sense.

“Yeah, we bought it as soon as we were able to.”

“Oh my god. I love it,” I say. “I love everything about it. Thank you for bringing me here.”

The gardens are so pretty and so cozy it makes me want to take up gardening all over again after my six failed attempts to keep a plant alive. When they give me a tour of the inside, I immediately want to learn how to bake in the kitchen, serve wholesome, delicious food in the dining room, and watch endless reality TV in the living room like snacking on cake.

Even Honeypot loves the place. She eagerly investigates all the rooms and comes back to give me a, ‘You did good, bitch,’look. After that, she just follows Holt, Steele, and Ryder around with her puppy eyes.

Well, I think I did good too, even if it’s only for twelve weeks. The masculinity I’m surrounded with comes from comfortable furniture, lingers in the air around me, which is tinged with their cologne, and seeps from the walls to embrace me in a protective cocoon. This house, like its owners, doesn't want to be anything else but itself. How perfect.

But I’m surprised when a chef arrives soon after us with a team of servers in tow.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I chide quietly. “I could have cooked us something... like boiled eggs and lettuce; I’m good at that. I don’t want you spending money unnecessarily.”

“It’s our wedding night. We splurged,” Holt says, and he grins at me. Actually grins at me.

“Don’t worry. It’s a once-off thing,” Ryder assures me.

The meal is fantastic. Kobe steak. Succulent vegetables. Out-of-this-world desserts. I’m used to eating Michelin star meals at my parents' house, but this meal was something else.

Once we’ve eaten, the chef and his entourage have left, and night has fallen a kind of awkwardness descends around me.

It’s nighttime. Bedtime...

“So...” I say as we sit around the dinner table. I’m usually never shy or at a loss for words, but I am now.

“So,” Steele says as all their gazes land on me. Ugh. They’re not helping.

I’ve been tucking away the feelings that erupted like a broken fountain inside me ever since they showed me ourbed—not our bedroom, ourbed,adding that it was custom made, and they got it for a steal when I protested again. It was definitely made for giants or four people.

Oh boy, oh boy.

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