Page 100 of Unexpected Shot
“Oh, sleeping arrangements are coming next, don’t you worry about that.”
I can’t wait for that argument, especially if it ends up with us in any of the four beds at my house. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. While I’d be more than happy to stay here, can I offer justification for why my house is the better option?”
“Fine,” she says as she falls back into the seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Explain your case.”
“For one, I have the bigger house,” I say, suddenly wishing I’d made a PowerPoint for this. I feel like slides would give it some extra oomph. “And while you don’t think I have headboards, I do. For every bed—none smaller than a queen—in every one of the four bedrooms.”
“But I have the better sheets,” she interrupts.
“How do you know about my sheets?”
“Really? You have good sheets? What man has good sheets?”
“Me,” I say, leaning in, needing to throw her off. “One hundred percent bamboo viscose, best for hot sleepers to keep you cool. And if I remember correctly, you do run a little hot in the night.”
The fire in her eyes right now is either because she wants to punch me or fuck me. I really hope the latter.
“Plus, I have a full gym with every piece of equipment you could ask for. And if I don’t have it, I’ll get it for you. No questions. That way you can continue to strengthen that shoulder and never have to leave the house. And did I mention my sauna? And cold plunge? Perfect for those hard days of working out when you need some extra rehab.”
“I have a gym,” she defends, but the lack of bite to her words lets me know I’m breaking her down.
“But do you have a state-of-the art golf simulator? Ideal for those cold or rainy Nashville days when you can’t get on the course. Wouldn’t you like one of those, Belle?”
Some women would have been impressed with the sheets. Others would have moved in at the mention of a sauna, gym, or the swimming pool I didn’t even bring up. But no. I know how to talk dirty to my wife, and those words aregolf simulator.
“You play dirty, Devereaux.”
“I know,” I say, resisting the urge to kiss her nose because she looks damn adorable right now pretending she isn’t looking forward to the amenities my house offers. “But I want you to make it yours. I had my home decorated to fit me, but I want you to feel comfortable. Bring everything you want and need. Pictures. Clothes. Your weird green face stuff. And if you don’t have it and want it, let me know. It’s yours.”
She lets out a defeated sigh. “I'm not selling this house.”
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t expect you to. If anyone asks, we say we’re keeping it for now and will one day decide what to do with the property. Until then, we’re settling into married life.”
“I need to start practicing saying things like ‘married life’ without making a face,” she says, which makes me laugh.
“I bet you can do it. Try it. For me.”
“Ma—marr—married—” she stops and overexaggerates a face like she’s going to be sick.
“Faker,” I say as I tickle her side. “Come on, Belle. You can do it.”
The tone changes as we lock eyes. She softens a bit, and it doesn’t even come with a double blink. I feel like that’s a win in itself.
“Married life. With my husband. Beau Devereaux.”
“See. That wasn’t hard.” Except every word came out like she was unsure she was speaking the right language.
“One more question.”
“Shoot.”
Her eyes turn a little sad, and I don’t know if she consciously does it, but she seeks out my hand. She’s not holding it, but she’s staring at my fingers, playing with them. I don’t want to point it out. Hell, I don’t want to do anything to scare her. Instead, I’m going to listen to every word she says, and bask in the feel of her unexpected touch.
“How long do we do this? Is this our life now?”
The question takes me by surprise. “I… I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I know I’m not much of a dater, so it’s not like this is going to intrude on my thriving personal life…” Shelby trails off, still not looking at me, still choosing to focus on our fingers. “But this can’t be our life. No one wants to be in a relationship, let alone a marriage, that is only for convenience. We have to know when this is going to end. It’s only fair. To both of us.”
