Page 131 of The Reason I Married Him
“Why am I responsible?” I ask as I open the door for her.
“Because you’re making me go to this thing.”
“Stop, you were going anyway.” I tug on her seat belt and hand it to her. “Buckle up, babe.”
Then I move around to the other side of the SUV and hop in.
Just to test the waters and see how comfortable she is, I place my hand on her thigh and glance at her.
“Uh, what are you doing?” she asks, clearly not accepting my audacity.
“Attempting to prepare you for affection.” I smooth my thumb over her inner thigh, and she swats my hand away, laughing.
“That tickles, you can’t do that.”
“Your inner thigh tickles?” I ask as I put my hand back where it was.
“Yes, very ticklish, so don’t.”
“Interesting.” I rub my thumb again, and she shifts her leg.
“Wyatt, stop, or I’ll end up punching you out of survival, and I don’t think you want that, do you?”
“I’m not opposed to love taps.”
“This would not be a love tap. This would be a full-on fist to the face.”
“Ouch.” I chuckle as I turn onto the main road that leads to town. “That seems rather brutal.” I place my hand back on her thigh, but I don’t move my thumb this time. “What about hand-holding? Where are you with that? Still on the same page?”
“I don’t know,” she says, unsure.
“It’s fine if you don’t want to hold my hand, but maybe you can loop your arm through mine, something like that, which keeps us close together but doesn’t require you to do something you don’t want to do.”
“I can do that.”
“Perfect. I was also thinking that you can sit on my lap when we sit down.”
“That shouldn’t be too difficult to stomach.”
“Funny,” I deadpan, which makes her chuckle. “And then there’s the whole scene I have in my head where we get caught making out by the inn. Serious tongue action, possibly some inappropriate groping?—”
“That won’t be happening.”
I laugh at the disgusted sound in her voice. “Wow, the only other thing that would have suggested you were disgusted at the mere thought of us making out was if you threw up in your lap.”
“Almost did. Good thing I have control of my gag reflex.”
My eyes shoot to her playful ones, and I can’t help but laugh.
This is the real Aubree. When she isn’t hiding behind a wall, behind her feelings—behind the world that once crumbled around her—this is the woman we get to see. Playful and fun. Witty and sarcastic. If this continues, it’s going to be a really fucking easy year.
I clear my throat and say, “Uh, gag reflex, huh?”
“Oh my God, you’re such a guy.”
“Guilty,” I say. “But do you blame me?”
“Yes, I do. You could have easily not made a comment. You could have been sophisticated and moved past it.”
