Page 214 of The Reason I Married Him
“It’s colderthan I thought it would be,” I say while slipping my shoes on.
“Take my sweatshirt,” Wyatt says while he starts to tug it off.
“No, I don’t want you to be cold.” I stand from the couch.
“Babe, do you really think I’m going to walk around town with you and let you be cold?”
“No,” I answer.
“So take the sweatshirt,” he says, bringing it over to me.
I press my hands to his chest and smile up at him, still in awe over the fact that this is real, that we are a real thing. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’ll be fine once we start walking in the sun.”
“You’re cute,” he says. “But take the fucking sweatshirt.”
I chuckle and take the sweatshirt, slipping it on over my long-sleeved T-shirt. And because he’s so much bigger than me, it envelops me in his scent, the hem hitting me mid-thigh and the sleeves extending far past my hands. But oh my God, I love it.
I hug the sweatshirt close and say, “You’re not getting this back.”
He chuckles and lifts my chin only to place a soft kiss on my lips. “It’s yours.”
I take in his long-sleeved shirt and the way it clings to every part of his torso, including his thick pecs and rounded shoulders. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I ask him.
“Yeah, and if not, when we get your slippers, I’ll grab a sweatshirt for myself. Sound good?”
“Sounds good. Thank you,” I say, kissing his jawline.
He smirks at me and takes my hand, leading me to the front door. “You know, when you let your guard down, you’requite pleasant to be around.” I pause, only for him to look over his shoulder and laugh. “You’re also sexy as shit when you’re irritated. Thought that from day one.”
“Is that why you enjoyed making me mad?”
“Yup, something about the fantasy of having angry sex with you really motivated me.”
“Keep it up with those comments, and that fantasy very well might come true.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Aubree. I know exactly how to press your buttons at this point.” Funnily enough, he’s not wrong. And it’s amazing to be with someone who won’t use that knowledge to malign me. He leads me out of the cabin and into the crisp mountain air where silence surrounds us, just the sound of the breeze blowing through the trees and the occasional bird chirping filtering through.
I sigh, taking it all in. The lengthy ponderosa pines that seem to be never-ending, the earthy smell of the leaves changing colors and falling to the ground, and the feel of total seclusion and privacy.
Turning toward Wyatt, I say, “I can tell exactly why you wanted to make this cabin yours. It’s breathtaking here. I could get lost in here, forget all of my responsibilities and just soak in the nature surrounding us.” I look around, catching a blue-winged bird floating through the air only to land on a tree branch. “One can truly find peace here.”
“I have found peace,” he says quietly. “This cabin was where I wrote the first sentence of my very first book.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised.
“Yup, I was talking to my grandpa about a story idea I had. I was fifteen at the time, and he told me to write it down. He never thought of my aspirations to write as something silly. He supported them and even helped me flush out some ideas when I was stuck.”
“You were pretty close, weren’t you?” I ask as we walk up the road, hand in hand.
“We were. Very close.”
“Can I ask you a private question?”
“Aubree.” He chuckles. “We’re married, and you’ve sat on my face. Pretty sure you can ask me anything at this point.”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .” I peer up at him, and he smirks and then winks. And we’re probably both thinking of what we did this morning. Hard not to, especially after I screamed his name loud enough to scare every bird away from the cabin within a five-mile radius. Clearing my thoughts, I ask, “If you were so close with your grandpa, then why did he not just leave the cabin to you? Why was it to one of the grandkids and not one of his kids?”
“Great question,” Wyatt says. “He and his brother owned the cabin. His brother didn’t have kids and didn’t care for Grandpa’s kids.”
