Page 41 of The Reason I Married Him
Well, the way to her not spitting venom.
I walk up to the tire to grab one, but she swats at my hand. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asks.
“Uh, enjoying breakfast with you?”
“These are my muffins. You got them for me, no?”
“I did,” I reply.
“Then that means they’re mine, and I’m going to tell you right now that I’m not good at sharing.”
“If I don’t have a muffin, I’ll starve.”
“That sounds awfully dramatic, don’t you think?” she asks.
“Yes, but I’m an author. I’m supposed to be dramatic.”
She takes another bite, and the scent of maple and apple wafts toward me, causing my stomach to growl. “Is that a requirement?”
“With the writer’s guild, yes.”
“Well, not a fan, so take your drama somewhere else. Maybe take it back into town where you can get breakfast—hey!”
She shouts when I snatch the muffin out of her hand.
“Give me that!” she shouts just as I lick the top of the muffin, claiming it as mine. “Ew, what is wrong with you?”
“I told you I was hungry.”
“Do you really think I won’t eat that even though you licked it?”
“I’d be impressed if you did.” I hold the muffin out to her. “Go ahead and take it. The bread is probably moist from my saliva.”
She huffs and goes back to the bakery box. “You’re disgusting.”
“You made me be disgusting. If you’d just shared, I wouldn’t have had to lick your muffin . . .” I think about it for a second, my words registering, and a smile crosses my lips.
She points her finger at me. “See, disgusting.”
“Hey, you thought of it too.”
“Only because you grinned like an immature teenager.” She unwraps her muffin this time and takes a bite of the crunchy bottom.
“You don’t have to say disgusting, by the way. Nothing disgusting is involved when . . . I lick a muffin.”
“Doubtful,” she says. “You probably breathe too hard, lose focus, and waste time.”
“The perception you have of me is entirely too flattering. You’ll give me such a big ego that I won’t fit through these barn doors.”
“Don’t worry, I have no problem popping it so you fizzle right through them.”
“I have no doubt about that.” I motion to the chicken coop. “Looks like you couldn’t stand the fact that I framed out the coop yesterday. Had to show me up, did you?”
“No. I just didn’t want you to have the joy of completing a project on the farm.”
I stare at her. “That’s a little psychotic.”
“Are you really calling a woman psychotic?”
