Page 37 of A Wulver for the Week

“Minerva, darling—”

“Craig, honey!”

We stop and laugh. “Happy wife, happy life,” I say in a sing-song voice, pulling out my phone.

Craig groans, but he’s laughing. He kisses the back of my hand and sighs heavily. “Of course, dear. Whatever you say.”

“Good. Now, drive us home. I don’t have to be back at work until Sunday, and you owe me at least two trips to heaven and back.”

Craig puts the car in reverse and screeches out of the lot at a top speed. “Yes, love. And you owe me a fashion show. You, in my bed, wearing those rings and nothing else.”

I shiver at the hungry tone and the way his hand grips my knee. It’s my turn to smile and lean on his shoulder, whispering, “Yes, honey. Whatever you say.”