Page 33 of Roman and Jules
Roman’s lips curled up at her spunk; he’d always hoped that he’d inherited a little of that himself. Putting on his “bad boy” persona for her amusement, he swaggered over and leaned on her convertible’s open window. “Priscilla, look at you—you’re rocking the Mercedes.”
“Who doesn’t rock a Mercedes?” she growled out, though she still preened, running a hand through her brightly dyed, red hair.
Roman pulled out a pump and chose the unleaded—the cheaper kind because Priscilla scoffed at the overpriced stuff—and he proceeded to fill her gas tank like the good great-nephew he was.
Her shrewd eyes didn’t leave him through the windshield. “Why didn’t you invite me to your wedding?” she asked him. “I didn’t believe the tabloids for a second when it happened, won’t even crack open their pages. I thought maybe a girlfriend, but then I saw it was Jules, and well… wasn’t she Ty’s date at that party? You surprised me, boy.”
He steadied the hose while he tried to think of an answer. “It was a surprise to me too.” It was all he had for her.
She lifted her chin. “Is that why my two great-nephews were fighting atmyparty?”
It was as good a reason as any—the kind of romantic line she’d pretend to despise while eating it up on the sly—but he didn’t think he’d get away with it for long. Priscilla was too smart. He tapped the side of her Mercedes, keeping his peace.
Her heavily lashed eyes narrowed at him. “Is your wife here?”
He relaxed. “Yes, inside.” Calling Jules his wife made everything feel better, and he couldn’t wait to make it permanent. Being a reckless fool was the least of his worries—he didn’t want to lose her now that he’d found her. Having her as a constant in his life had sped up his feelings for her, but that didn’t make them wrong.
His aunt’s face softened. “Oh, Roman, you love her.”
How had she seen that? He drew back like she was in possession of a sixth sense. “Aunt…?”
“What is wrong with that?” she cut in bluntly. “She’s your wife. I’m annoyed that you married in secret, but I say we hold a party to celebrate; invite the whole family. There’s no hiding her from us anymore.”
“I’m not sure.”
She nodded knowingly. “Ty? He still holds bitter feelings, does he?”
Roman was desperate to steer the conversation away from his cousin. “Maybe after Halloween,” he said. “Jules is performing at the Curtain Theater, so she’ll be busy with practices.”
She patted his hand with her wrinkled one. “What a good and supportive husband you are.” Her gaze shot behind Roman and she turned stern. “Right? Jules? Roman isn’t pretending just to get in good with the old woman, is he?”
“Um.” Jules approached with an armful of chocolate bars and bags of chips, but she was quick to assess the situation and with a look at Roman, she nodded. “That’s very true. Roman is very supportive… Mrs. Verona.”
“You can call me Aunty Verona.”
“Y-yes!”
His aunt snorted out a laugh and she tilted her chin at the junk food Jules carried. “You’re not pregnant, girl?”
Jules’s pale face flared crimson, so that even Roman smiled in sympathy. He went to her and put his arms around her. It was just an excuse to touch her—he couldn’t keep away from her these days. Would there be a child in the future? He hoped so. “You’ll be the first to know when that happens, Priscilla.”
His wife giggled at that and pushed the snacks into his arms. “That’s it—you’re carrying these from now on.”
Great-Aunt Priscilla brought her ruby red lips together into a secretive smile and lifted a hand regally at them. “Go and have your fun, you kids.” She waited for Roman to top off her gas before driving away.
Despite all her threats, Jules gathered the snacks from him and dropped them into the picnic basket that had been tied securely to the back of his bike next to the firewood and got on. He slid onto the seat in front of her and they made their escape off the exit to reach I-215 to make the thirty-minute drive to Dry Lake in Boulder City. He reached back and rested his hand on her smooth leg.
Her arms tightened around him and he enjoyed the warm desert wind rushing over them—though it was October—and it started to cool with the darkening sky. As soon as they reached Boulder City, Roman glanced back at her. “We’re switching places.”
“No!” she protested with a laugh.
“You’ve got this. The Steel Horse looks tough, but it’s just a purring kitten.”
She leaned into him, knocking him back with her cheek. “You call your bike the Steel Horse?”
“See, not so intimidating now, is it?” He pulled the bike to the side of the road and swung around to glance back at her worried face. “Let’s do it.”
She sighed, and he guided her by the waist as she switched places with him. She started the engine, her shoulders tense as he directed her movements over the handlebars. The drive was slow at first, with him doing most of the work, but then it went faster as she gained more confidence. He hooked his chin over her shoulder. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
