Page 48 of The Reason I Married Him
In an annoyed tone, she says, “I’ve tried it several times. I just mean I wouldn’t do it with you.”
“Now that’s not fair. I’m a good-looking man with strong fingers from typing all day. You have no idea the kind of pleasure I could bring.”
“Good thing I have no desire to find out either.”
“Your loss.” I shrug. “My acupuncturist told me I have the strongest thumb muscles she’s ever seen.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed with that? What are you even going to do with thumb muscles?”
I pause and say, “Uh . . . a lot, Aubree. A whole fucking lot.”
“Forget I even asked.”
“No, let’s dive into that. I think a little education would be nice on our jaunt, don’t you?”
“Not if it involves you talking about your thumbs and sticking them places.”
You know, despite her grouchy attitude and irritated disposition, she’s really quick-witted and, perhaps, a touch humorous? I know that might be a bit of a stretch, but her responses have made me smile.
“If we’re going to be married, we should discuss these things.”
“We’re not getting married,” she says, exhausted.
Hmm, maybe if I say it enough, I’ll wear her down. Add that to the list of things to poke her with.
“So you think, but mark my words, five days from now, you’ll be saying I do!”
“In your author dreams.”
“Put that back,”I yell at Aubree, who has removed yet another one of my wire stakes.
“No.” She has them all gripped in her hands, definitely pleased with herself.
“I’m doing hard work here, and you’re ruining it.”
“Just like you’re ruining my day?” she asks. “I could be finishing that coop. Instead, I’m out here in the hot sun, helicoptering over you as if you’re a toddler running wild in a potato field.”
“That was your choice. I didn’t force you to come out here. You’re the one who climbed me like a tree . . . so . . .” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“Stop being disgusting,” she says with an unamused glare.
“Seriously, put the stake back.”
“Not until you tell me what you’re doing.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m marking my side of the land. I have some people comingMonday who are going to tear up the fields to make room for my cows.”
Her mouth falls open, and her body goes slack.
“Excuse me?” she says.
“You heard me. I truly believe you have too much potato waste, and we could be using this space for something more substantial, like cows.”
“You know nothing about farming. Do you know how expensive the start-up will be for that?”
“Well, thank God I’m a single man with an expendable income that I can fuck around with. Moooooo-ve over . . . the cows are coming, baby.”
I guide the landscaping wheel down the field while using an app on my phone that shows me the land’s topography. When I hit a corner, I put down a stake, only for her to snatch it again.
