Page 129 of The Reason I Married Him
Chapter Fourteen
WYATT
“I’m not going,” Aubree says as she gets dressed in the bathroom.
“Aubree Rowley, you are going, and that’s final,” I say back, raising my voice. I didn’t even call her Mrs. Preston, which just shows how serious I am.
She pokes her head out of the door and says, “I don’t do town events.”
“You do now,” I say. “Since you’re attached to me, and I do town events.”
“Why do you have to be someone who does town events?” she asks as she heads back into the bathroom.
“It was all part of the plan to get people to like me in this town, so I had a backup plan if you tried to run me out of it. That plan was making friends with everyone, which made me a town event person.”
She steps out of the bathroom, fully dressed in a pair of green shorts and a matching peach and green top. She pinned her curlyhair up into a thick bun with a few tendrils framing her face, and she put on mascara and some light makeup.
“You had a whole plan?”
“Would it even be me if I didn’t plot out an entire action plan of how to get your hand in marriage?”
She shakes her head, the slightest smile on those plump lips. “Wow, seems like I had no choice in this matter.”
“I would like to say you did, but in reality, you were doomed the moment I waltzed into town.”
“Seems like it.” She stuffs her phone and her wallet into a tiny purse with a long string. She slips on her sandals, and that’s when I take her all in, fully dressed and looking gorgeous.
Hold on a second . . .
“Uh, why are you all dressed up?” I ask.
“I’m not going to a town event in my work boots.”
“Wait, so this whole time you were getting ready and giving me shit about how you don’t do town events, you were planning on attending the End of Summer Jubilee all along?”
She offers me an evil grin. “Wyatt, would it even be me if I didn’t give you a hard time about the things you want to do?”
“Ooo, I see what you did there.” I waggle my finger at her. “Clever.”
“Thank you. I’ll meet you at your vehicle. I have to grab a sweater for Mac. Ryland texted me that she’s chilly.”
“You were so invested in going that you had organized to take Mac a sweater?”
“Yup.” She smirks and then heads out the door to the farmhouse.
We’ve been bickering all morning about attending the End of Summer Jubilee, and how she’s not going. And she planned to attend all along. Christ.
I don’t need this kind of stress today.
Do you know why?
Because in my pocket right now is the engagement ring I picked out for her a few days ago, ready to be placed on her finger with the help from a few people in town, Ethel leading the parade.
The last thing I need is for Aubree to stay home. Although, if it came down to it, I would have dragged her out of here like a sack of potatoes over my shoulder. I have no problem doing that.
I lock up the guest house, and while Aubree heads into the farmhouse, I wait for her at my SUV. I drag my hand over my face and think about this past week. The progress I’ve made with her, the jokes and laughs we’ve shared over dinner . . . our new nighttime ritual, a ritual that I sort of wish wasn’t just a nighttime thing because fuck, those lips.
I’m addicted to them.
