Page 56 of Whiskey Proposal

She relaxes, but lifts her chin like she’s trying to prove that she’s not affected. “Who is Tate?”

“The oldest Bailey. Scarlett made me one for the shop that says, ‘I love big tools and I cannot lie.’ It’s hanging in the back where it won’t get dirty.” I toss sausage into the pan.

Emerson laughs and looks away like she’s embarrassed by it. Then she begins gathering plates and forks for the table. That’s been our routine this week, and each day, I look forward to it more.

“You can meet Myles and Wynter if you’d like.”

“Hmm?” The plates and silverware clank as she sets our places. She sits across from me the long way, but as long as she’s in the same room, it’s progress.

“They’re having me, Cruz, and Elodie over this weekend. You want to come with me?”

The furrow returns to her brow as she digs out two glasses and the orange juice. “Why?”

You’re my wife. “To get out of town for a bit.”

Her demeanor brightens for a moment. Then it’s gone and she sits at the table and arranges our glasses. “Wouldn’t that be weird? ‘Here’s my temporary roommate I’m married to.’ ”

The words temporary and roommate scrape my eardrums. “They understand the situation.”

She chews on her lip. “It doesn’t seem right. I’d feel like a fraud.” She plucks at a piece of lint on her sleeve.

Why would she feel that way? Because of this arrangement, or because she’s not used to a big family? “They all know what’s going on. If you weren’t welcome, I wouldn’t invite you.”

Yearning swims in her eyes, but she shakes her head. “I should stay. I have a flock to care for now, and I should do something with just me and Hillary.”

My heart sinks. The fantasies filling my head of showing up with a gorgeous wife slink back to the shadows. I’m the lone bachelor out of the whole crew, and while it hasn’t been that long since Cruz landed Elodie, it’s not like I haven’t thought about who’d be at my side one day.

“I’ll leave Sunday.” I bring the food to the table. “She’s having it when both tasting rooms are closed.”

“Do you normally travel this much?” She pulls her sleeves over her hands. Her right eye twitches.

Do my trips out of town bother her? Does she think she’s the reason? I might’ve reveled a little bit in her jealousy at the thought of another woman, but I don’t in this. Emerson has been left by a lot of important people in her life. My mom was a mess, but she didn’t ditch me and Cruz. She wanted to use us for control over our dad, but that’s a different issue. “I might leave, but I always come back.”

She gives me a flat look and dishes up some eggs and sausage. “Is it the chickens? I know those hens are wrapping you around their wings.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Everything’s about the chickens.”

She rolls her lips in instead of smiling. “Does it all seriously not bother you?”

“If it does, I’ll get over it or talk to you about it.” I pour myself some juice and guzzle it.

She watches me, her gaze on my throat as I swallow. Yet when I set my glass down, it’s not desire in her eyes, it’s doubt. “Will you? Or will you have another out-of-state meeting?”

My butt thumps the chair when I sit back. Is that what set off chicken-geddon? She got mad at me and assumed I left because of it? She’s testing me, still that hurt little girl who watched her mom walk out and then got ignored by her dad.

Goddamn. Why didn’t I see it? I thought she was trying to drive me off. She was, but not for the reason I assumed. “Myles was sick. Cruz and Elodie are both preparing for the street fair tomorrow. So he asked me. I usually do a lot more with the Denver site because I didn’t want Cruz getting ripped out of the only stable home he knew. Our roles just stuck.”

Her lower lip puffs out for a second. “Whatever. It’s not my business.” She takes a hearty drink of her juice.

I push back and rise. Walking around the table, I don’t take my attention off her. She shrinks, but she can roll herself into a minuscule ball and I’ll still find her. I pull out her chair and turn it.

She grabs the sides. “What are you doing?”

Dropping to my knees, I cage her in. “It is your business. You think this is fake, Em, but it’s not to me. You’re my wife, and whether you like it or not, your happiness is my goal.”

She scoffs, but she won’t look at me. “You’re not serious.”

“About you, I am. Fill this house with as much chicken shit as you want; it’s not going to faze me. In fact, the big cock pillow is growing on me. It’s like you bought it with subliminal thoughts about my dick.” She sputters, but I push between her knees. “And get fucking turkeys and a broke-down shed just for them. I’ve already got shingles and new shutters ordered.”