Page 134 of Our Long Days
The sound of an engine draws closer. Dex doesn’t react, so I tap him on the shoulder. “Looks like the first guest has arrived.”
He checks his watch. “Right on time. Any guesses which brother it’ll be?”
His question is answered when Booth’s voice booms through the trees, all the way from the front of the house.
Drawing Dex’s attention to my face, I smile and mouth three words, soaking up this last drop of tranquility before everyone arrives.
I love you.
His eyes flicker, shining with so many words I feel deep in my bones.
I love you,he mouths back.
BOOTH
“Silv, where are my shorts?” I shout.
Silence.
“Silver?”
“Define shorts…” a sultry voice replies from behind the bathroom door.
I scoff and continue rummaging through the open suitcase. “The ones that don’t make my butt pop.”
The door swings open, revealing my little witch, brow raised and ready to duel. “Seriously?”
“You’re right,” I sigh, shoulder slumping before I wink at her. “Everything makes my butt pop.”
A towel smacks me in the face. The towel that was wrapped around my wife’s naked body. I scramble from my spot on the floor, fighting with the damp material, and groan pathetically when I regain my sight.
She strides across the hardwood floor, aware of the effect she has on me. After nearly eight years together, her joy in torturing me hasn’t lessened.
I watch her slide on a matching set of black lingerie, utterly engrossed in the lace as it slides up her velvet-soft skin.
The outrageous noise from the cuckoo clock has us both jumping.
“God, I hated that monstrosity the first time we stayed here, and I hate it more now.” She scowls at the mechanical bird before it escapes into its house again.
Nostalgia hits me when I take stock of our surroundings. The familiar cedar walls and floor-to-ceiling window transportme back in time. We’re only in Sutton Bay for a few days, and as usual, Dex lets us stay in The Nook whenever we visit from New York.
Life is busy and perfect. Theodore’s, the restaurant named after my dad, is busier than ever, with a six-month waitlist for a table. Pedro, the executive chef, retired two years ago. I’d debated remaining in my role as head chef, knowing I’d miss the grind in the kitchen, but it was the natural progression in my career. It didn’t take long for me to find my groove. Since my promotion, I’ve assisted in the opening of three new flagship restaurants in Boston, Chicago, and Atlanta.
My powerhouse wife is ruling the world, breaking men’s spirits one boardroom meeting at a time. It’s a no-brainer that she’s in line for CEO when her dad retires. Aly’s mom is constantly trying to convince him to take a step back, and as all Argiros women do, she’ll get her way soon enough.
“Come on, Dimples. We’ll be late if you don’t get a move on,” Aly says, slipping a simple black summer dress over her head.
I prowl over to her, forcing her backward until her knees hit the bed and she drops to the mattress. Lightly pinching her chin, I raise her silver eyes to meet mine.
“I have a proposal for you first,” I murmur.
Intrigue dances across her face. “A business proposal?”
“Not exactly.” I gesture around the cabin. “You love a smart investment, correct?”
She nods. “I do…”
I lower to my haunches and wedge myself between her thighs, hands on her hips. “How about we invest in a vacation home in the area? Somewhere to call our own when we visit or need an escape from the city. Nothing big or fancy.”
