Page 75 of Beauty and the Beach

She smiles slowly. “I knew I liked him.”

“What are you lovebirds chatting about over there?” Clarence cuts in, his voice blaring and intrusive, his smile ribbon around ice. Every head at the table turns in our direction.

“I was asking Phoenix what size of pads he recommends,” Holland says just as loudly—and without missing a beat. Further up the table, Lawrence chokes and coughs into his beef bourguignon. Mavis snorts with something that might be amusement.

“He says jumbo size is good for days of heavier flow,” Holland goes on. “The overnight ones with the wings.”

Clarence hums coldly, his lips twisting in distaste—wrong line of business, Clarence—and Holland returns to her food and her quiet.

Every now and then she casts a questioning glance around the table, though, and I try to picture how strange it must seem, a large family eating in tense silence, no underlying warmth to be felt.

She sighs audibly when Mavis excuses herself without a word ten minutes later, waving her assistant over to help her stand. Everyone disperses after that, and we’re the first ones to leave. My mother tries to get my attention on the way out, but I ignore her—rudely, maybe, but I have limits. I grab Holland’s hand without thinking, pulling her along to get out faster; she hisses at me and yanks on my grasp until I slow down again.

“Look at me, I’m the big alpha male, dragging my helplessfemale along,” she mutters under her breath as we stride through the foyer, and I roll my eyes.

“Thenhurry up,” I say over my shoulder.

She makes a face at me, and I halt with tired feet.

“You signed the contract,” I say in a low voice. “Cooperate, please.”

“Signing the contract does not equal letting you drag me around,” she snaps; her voice echoes around the marble foyer, and I make a hissing sound at her.

“Quiet,” I say. Then, because she’s right, I add reluctantly, “I’ll stop dragging you. Sorry.”

She bristles but nods, and we resume our path.

Both of us are exhausted by the time we get home; she kicks off her heels immediately and then beelines for the couch, flopping face-first and not moving for several seconds.

“I just don’t understand how you’re the easiest person to be around in your entire family,” she finally says, rolling over. “In any given situation, you should be the most insufferable.”

“Bold words for a woman who kissed me in a closet all those years ago,” I say, leaning back against the kitchen counter and loosening my tie. “And then agreed to marry me.”

She sits up. “Forpay,” she says. “I agreed to marry you forpay.”

I cock my brow at her. “Yeah?” I say. My tie undone, I begin unbuttoning my shirt. “What about the closet? Was that for pay too?”

“I—it wasn’t—” She swallows, her eyes falling to my shirt. “Are you taking that off out here?”

“Why?” I say, smirking at her expression. Something shifts in my chest at the way her eyes are trained on me, something that pushes the next words out of my mouth. “Want to find another closet?”

She scoffs, pulling her gaze away from my half-bare chest. “You wish.”

“Maybe sometimes,” I murmur.

Her head whips back toward me, her cheeks rosy pink. “What?”

“I saidYou’re dumb sometimes.” I push off the counter and head toward the hallway where our bedrooms are located. “I’m going to bed. Try not to snore tonight.”

She gapes at me, her eyes narrowing. “You’re the one who snores. I’ve never snored a day in mylife?—”

“But you wouldn’t know, would you?” I pull my shirt off just before I round the corner. “Sleep well,” I call, grinning.

She doesn’t snore. But it’s fun to get that look out of her.

I fall asleep almost immediately, and I dream of closets with my wife—of kissing her and never stopping.

I wakeup suddenly and with a pounding heart; part of that is from the dreams that have been haunting me all night, but the other part is that I can hear Holland. It’s another nightmare, judging by the sound, torn and desolate.

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