Page 61 of Forbidden Vows

“Come here, cutie.”

She pads across the floor and climbs under the covers to snuggle beside me, making it my favorite part of the day. She quickly falls asleep in my arms. I bury my face in her hair, inhaling her scent and holding her, memorizing the contours of her body.

I know I’m putting myself in danger. The time we spend together will either bring us closer or confirm my greatest fear: that she’s serious about the end of us.

She’s set our ‘best by’ date for the moment we reach the city.

The only issue I have with that?

My feelings for her will never expire.

Chapter Eighteen

Cleopatra

We wake, and I immediately begin my investigation, attempting to uncover clues about today's surprise. I press him in vain as we enjoy my favorite breakfast in the garden house. He’s a locked treasure chest.

We inspect our favorite paint swatch in the early light, confirming we’ve chosen the ideal white in Wedding Lace. On the way, we bid farewell to Sharon and Dad, who are working in the garden out back. I’ve never known Sharon to do manual labor, but she’s as happy as a clam out there, smiling and laughing under her wide-brimmed straw hat as my father shows her the correct way to plant tomatoes.

If they can make it work…maybe Blaze and I could too?

Gah! Where did that come from? Seeing my stepma with my dad makes me imagine a future with my stepbro? No!

Walking hand in hand down the sunlit path, we exchange smiles with passersby, enjoying the lively atmospherearound us. Aside from a few jealous looks I receive from women I assume are single (can I blame them?) the family seems genuinely glad to see me with him.

That feels nice.

I wear a chic cream linen vest, matching shorts by Gucci, and oversized Dior sunglasses. Blaze arranged a salon visit before my departure, so my typically flat hair now has fabulous bounce, volume, and shine. Whatever hair products they use here keep my hair looking as it did when I left the spa chair. I feel a renewed sense of belonging with the Beauties, almost convincing myself I could be one of them.

Almost.

A thin gold chain hangs from my shoulder, carrying my mini Kensington purse, beautifully crafted from soft white leather with overstitch quilting that blends weave and chevron patterns. An antiqued brass eagle head adorns the front flap, adding a touch of sophistication. The purse's contents—lipstick, mints, and hand sanitizer—metaphorically contrast with my oversized teacher bag that holds the entirety of a small drugstore and office supplies.

My mood is as light as my tiny purse.

He’s taken care of everything.

When we reach the dock, a massive, spotless white yacht awaits us—bright gold letters glitter in the sun, naming the boatThe Aphrodisiac.

Of course, the beautiful, sexy Bachmans would name their private yacht something like this.

He stares up at the gleaming boat. “I thought you’d enjoy a day cruise.”

“Seriously?”

He gives me a shy glance. “Yeah. You talked about the Jersey kids and being a homebody. I thought this would be perfect.”

“You thought exactly right!” I press up on the balls of my feet, cupping his face, and plant a big ole smooch on his smooth, freshly shaven cheek. Oh dear, he smells good.

He beams with pride. “I’m glad you like it.”

I give a little squeal of glee, clapping my hands. “Blaze, this is so cool!” I don’t even care if I sound like a kindergartener. I’m too excited to pretend to be posh. “I can’t wait to board. This is way too much. You spoil me!”

“I booked it for the whole day,” he says proudly. “We have it till midnight. Then, we turn into pumpkins.”

I eye him. “Did you just make a Cinderella reference?”

“I’ve seen all the Disney movies. And the Lego movies. Obviously.”

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