Page 26 of The Auction
“Babe, you haven’t been able to keep your eyes on my face this whole conversation. You’re looking at my chest and you like what you see, which tells me you’re straight.”
“Fuck!” I barked. Not because he was wrong, but that would have been a perfect out. “You would have let me go if I was a lesbian?”
He barked out a laugh. “No, babe. I would have tried to turn you first.”
“You know that’s not a thing,” I said, like he was an idiot.
“I would have made every effort. You’re staying. I’m staying. You make sure I get to my bedroom every night. I’ll keep the gun in a safe. Deal?”
“For now. Sure. I’ll just find some other way to break you,” I told him, straight up.
He stood then and maybe he was right. Maybe his naked chest was a little distracting. I mean, I was a human female with hormones. And, apparently, I was straight.
A girl could look, couldn’t she?
He walked over to the sink and emptied his cup, washed it and put it on the drying rack.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the window above the sink, his back to me.
I could tell that wasn’t easy.
“Okay,” I said.
Then he turned and took a few steps toward where I was sitting. Then he did this crazy thing by dropping his lips to mine before I could even react. It wasn’t even a kiss. Just his lips, pressed against mine for a second, warm, full, and then it was over.
“The hell?” I said, pushing against his chest when he finally lifted his head.
“You’re cute as fuck in the morning. Been wanting to do that for a while now. Get used to it. A husband kisses his wife good morning.”
“Wow, you’re really picking up stuff from those shows we’re watching. Because I know you don’t know jack shit about husbands and wives.”
“Yep. Get dressed. I’ll see you out in the fields.You’re going to direct me on the tractor to make sure I plow those rows straight.”
He left the kitchen, presumably to get dressed himself, and I wanted to throw my coffee mug against the wall. Except I was still drinking my coffee and it was my favorite mug.
The absolute delusion of this man. That he was going to make me come around to being married to him because I liked the way his chest looked?
Wait, that wasn’t a thing, was it?
No. The plan didn’t change. Get him to divorce me, take the money and run to Seattle.
Before I got dead.
SEVEN
JULIETTE
Breaking news:I think Creed had his own plan.
Like. What. The. Fuck?
Since the morning after the sleepwalking incident, he spent every morning lingering in the kitchen, wearing his sweat pants and nothing else.
Now we did this thing where he made coffee and waited for me to wake up. I came downstairs at my usual time. He lingered for a second cup as we worked out what we wanted to accomplish that day and then he would try and kiss me!
Operative word: try.
First time he dipped his head toward me, I put my whole hand over his face.
