Page 43 of Covenant

“Nope. Unless you want plant advice.”

I shrug, wanting it, but refusing to ask for it.

“Hey, aren’t you two newlyweds? Shouldn’t you be back in the main house?” Corbin asks.

My words stick in my throat as I try and respond. Acting like a happy married couple was part of the contract, the agreement I signed into for the next year. I’m to be the doting husband. I’m supposed to pretend.

“I wanted to see the grounds and he was busy. We aren’t attached at the hip.”

“Mm,” Corbin replies. “Right. Well…better get going. Need to make sure bits of the property aren’t flooding.”

I stare at him as he turns and then I stop him.

“Wait!” His gaze turns back to me, that damn hood still on. I can barely make out his face. “I want to plant some things. Flowers. Herbs. Shit like that.”

He’s still, those eyes gleaming beneath the hood. “And you need me for that?”

“Yeah. I mean, can you order me some bulbs, things that will grow well here? I want to see some fucking flowers.”

“I can do that. No problem. I’ll have them in a few days. Anything in particular?”

“Whatever you think would grow well and maybe add in some young cannabis plants.”

He lets out a low laugh. “Is that so?”

“It’s so. Can you do it?”

“Sure can. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have what will grow here. Plus, gardening will give you something to do with your time. Being happily married and all.”

He gives me a subtle nod and then walks down the gazebo steps, leaving me to stand there and watch him go. This whole place is fucking dreary as hell. Maybe I can give it a little bit of light when I plant my flowers and get high out of my mind.

That thought soothes me as I take one last look at the lake and then make my way back to the house. And I walk very carefully to make sure I don’t slip and fall on my ass.

I refuse to be laughed at.

I refuse to be anything less than.

11

WYATT

“What are you doing?” a dark voice says from behind me.

I don’t bother to lift my head as I cover the bulb with dirt. I know who it is. “Baking a cake. What does it look like?”

Shiny wingtips appear in my peripheral vision and I make sure to flick dirt on them. Petty, I know, but still. I can’t help it.

If he notices the mess, he doesn’t comment on it. “If that’s a cake, I think we’ll stick to what Jules bakes.”

Sitting back on my heels, I glare up at Matthias. He’s framed against the sun, harsh shadows thrown across his arrogant face. I hate that even now he looks good, a little wet from the storm that moved through here, his suit jacket clinging to his wide shoulders. While I sit here, dirt-streaked and sweating. “Then why ask if you know the answer?”

He shrugs. “Maybe I just like to hear your voice. You’ve been ignoring me.”

I turn back to the dirt, biting back my smile. Six nights of sleeping naked in his bed, encroaching on his personal space, and generally trying to provoke him during the day had gotten me nowhere. I felt small and deflated, my ego almost nonexistent.

So, last night, I’d taken a new approach. One where I simply pretended he didn’t exist. He was nothing. Just the air being swept through the trees outside.

Less than twenty-four hours later, here he was, showing his cards. Men like him never like to be ignored. “I didn’t realize pretending to be your husband meant having to pay attention to you.”

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