Page 17 of Billionaire's Accidental Marriage
I grinned. “It’s a fabulous idea. Let’s go.”
Just as we both stood to stretch, thunder cracked above our heads. It rolled so loudly and so quickly that it rattled the massive windows of the living room, and out of nowhere, the rain started coming down in sheets.
“Oh, boy,” I murmured.
Maggie shrugged. “I knew it was supposed to rain tonight. But, tomorrow and Sunday are supposed to be all sunshine and nothing else.”
I sighed. “I hope everything has already been put in place. Rainfall like this in the desert can be wash-outs if you’re not careful.”
She rubbed my arm softly, and it made my thighs tingle. “Everything is going to be all right. I’ll go out there early in the morning just to make sure everything is okay.”
I peeked down at her. “I appreciate you being here.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome, work husband.”
“So, mini-bar and room service?”
She sighed with relief. “Oh, thank heavens. I wasn’t even remotely prepared to go out in all of that rain once it kicked up.”
I chuckled. “I’ll open a bottle of wine, you call in our order. I’ll eat anything from this place. Anything. So, surprise me.”
“Oh, a food surprise. I like those kinds of surprises.”
I walked over to the mini-bar while she made her way into my bedroom, and together we sought out dinner. I brought the bottle of wine and our filled glasses to the kitchen nook, where she joined me soon thereafter, and as we waited for our food, our conversation very quickly turned from work stressors to memories.
“Was I easy to babysit?” she asked.
I let the memories wash over me. “Sometimes. But, other times, you were an absolute terror.”
She gasped. “Hey!”
“What? I’m only telling the truth. One time, I had to scrub down an entire wall with multiple Mr. Clean Magic Erasers just to get your artwork off the wall before your father got home and had my ass for it.”
“He wouldn’t have done that.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, no? Well, how about that time you were rollerblading in the house and knocked that painting off the wall?”
“Really? You still remember that?”
“Still remem—? Your father beat my ass for that piece!”
She barked with laughter. “He did not. My father never believed in that kind of stuff.”
“Well, he gave me the verbal equivalent, and it was just as bad.”
Her smile overtook her eyes, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. “You want to know what my fondest memory of us is?”
“What’s that?”
She threw back the last of her first glass of wine. “That time you took me trick-or-treating.”
I blinked. “You mean when you and I went as ketchup and mustard.”
She pointed at me. “That’s the one! That’s it! God, I forgot what we had gone as, but I do remember that bully from school teasing us.”
“And I told him to kick rocks.”
She snickered. “You didn’t say it as kindly, but yes. That’s what you said.”
