“Would it shock you to learn that I actually want to do both?”
She nodded, and her eyes began to glisten.
Shit. He made her cry. His protective instincts rose in full force. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because today wasn’t supposed to be this perfect.” She glanced away. “
You
weren’t supposed to be this perfect.”
Briefly, he closed his eyes and held her closer, kissing her forehead and every other spot within reach. What had she expected from him, from this arrangement? Indifference?
Unsure of what to say, he simply held her until the song ended. The guests clapped and she started, pulling away from him so quickly that she almost left him standing in the middle of the dance floor.
He didn’t understand her at all, but he had four days to discover
everything
about her.
Chapter Nine
‡
H
aven laced her fingers with Heath’s as they ran down a rose-petal strewn aisle, while well-wishers blew bubbles and showered them with birdseed.
Given her experience with changing the sheets of brides and grooms who’d stayed at Chesson House for their first honeymoon night, she was fairly certain that she’d be picking it out of her hair for the next week.
Heath laughingly pulled her along, stopping suddenly in the middle of it all to capture her mouth in a long, hot kiss that made her toes curl.
“What was that for?” she asked dazedly.
“Giving them a show¸ and I wanted to do,” he said. “Hope that’s all right.”
Better to ask for forgiveness than beg for permission. Yet she hadn’t told him no. All she’d done is reach for him when he would lean in close. “Yes.”
With a smile, he took her hand and began to head for his truck again, his long strides eating up the distance. Due to the practical, light pink Chucks she wore under her gown, she was able to keep up with him.
Another round of birdseed hit them, and he whirled her around, pressing her against the truck. She gazed into his eyes. He was going to kiss her again and she knew it, but this time, it was as if he were waiting for permission.
“Heath,” she said, closing her eyes and tipping up her chin. Blindly, she searched for his mouth.
“Right here, sweetness,” he said, brushing his mouth slowly over hers. The pressure was light and tantalizing.
How was it that each kiss was more powerful, more consuming than the next?
With gentle insistence, he coaxed her mouth open and slid his tongue inside, kissing and stroking her like she was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
She clutched at his shoulders, then at the nape of his neck, her fingers lightly scratching him there. A groan rumbled from his chest.
“You’re really good,” she said.
At making this look real.
How could she have forgotten to add that? That moment of weakness on the dance floor was just that—a moment of weakness that she vowed would never happen again.
“So are you.” He kissed her again, a chaste kiss to her forehead that left her wanting more. But they had a crowd.
He opened the passenger-side door and lifted her easily inside, helping tuck the skirt of her wedding dress inside with her. His gaze fell to her shoes, and a grin kicked up the corners of his mouth.
“Those are unexpectedly hot,” he said.
Unnerved by his pronouncement, she tried to take back control of the situation. “As in freakishly hot? Not what a proper southern belle like—”
“As in, I dig the shoes, Haven, because they’re you. Nothing more, nothing less.”
He closed the door and jogged around to the other side, dodging more birdseed from his brothers. Every miss that hit the truck instead of him sounded reminded her of the rain sticks they used to make in social studies while studying Native American cultures.
“Ready to go to the beach?” he asked as he slammed the door shut.
“We could drive around for a couple of hours, then I can go home and do the B&B thing while you go home and play with your balls,” she said sweetly.
“Rather you play with them.” He accompanied the words with a look so hot that she was shocked her panties didn’t melt. “But people are expecting us to leave Holland Springs.”
She sighed. He had a point. “So leave.”
He cranked up the truck, the vibrations from the muffler making her seat move. She gasped, and he laughed.
“Like that, huh?” He revved the engine, and the vibrations grew stronger.
This Heath, she could handle. The one who told stupid jokes and got into mock fights with his brothers at his own wedding was familiar territory to her. It fit his dumb jock image, an image she didn’t find intimidating in the least.
However, the man he’d been giving her glimpses of was an entirely different creature—one she wasn’t sure what to do with.
Grabbing the oh-crap handle by the door, she glared at him. “You are so juvenile.”
“I know how to have fun.” He shifted into drive, and the vibrations slowly faded away. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you back before Sunday. Mrs. Ambrose.”
“Ms. Crawford,” she reminded him, unwilling to play along.
His dark blue eyes bore into hers. “For the next four days, you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs. Ambrose. Now tell everyone goodbye.”
Tipping up her chin, she pasted on a smile and waved at everyone. “You are so not the boss of me.”
“Pretty sure the preacher said I was.”
Almost growling, she turned to him, ready to chew him up one side and then down the other, but his mouth twitched.
“Didn’t you pay attention to our vows, sweetheart?”
She tapped the side of her face and looked to one side, pretending to think about their vows. “Now that you mention it, I do remember that—and the part about how I get to kick you in the nuts every Tuesday.”
Heath didn’t take her threat as a threat, or a hint to shut up.
Oh no.
That irritatingly sexy man threw his head back and laughed. “Good thing it’s Wednesday.”
*
Once they were less than twenty minutes away from his family’s beach house, Heath finally asked about what had been on his mind. “Did the will specify how long we have to be married?”
Her expression went from annoyingly gleeful to completely stunned, as if she hadn’t considered the possibility or that he was the one to think of it. Either way, it wasn’t a compliment to him. Then again, she’d never thought well of him. Always wrinkled her nose at him like he smelled like dog shit or something.
Except when he kissed her. Maybe he should kiss her more often.
“I don’t think so, but I don’t remember.” She twirled a long, thick strand of cotton candy-colored hair around two fingers, then let it unwind. It bounced against the tops of her breasts.
Heath swallowed hard, fighting his reaction. If she were any other woman, he would have thought she was being flirty, but not Haven. And especially not with him.
Husband or not.
“We can wait until Monday to give your lawyer a call.”
“She’s gone on vacation for the next two weeks.”
“That long?”
“Slow time of year,” Haven said, still twirling and un-twirling her hair.
“Don’t you have a copy of the will?”
Haven frowned. “It’s not something I wanted to keep. I have enough reminders of their deaths.”
Sympathy rose inside of him. That he could understand. “If I didn’t say it before, you looked beautiful today.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Honestly, I’m surprised you wore something so traditional.”
“Did you think I’d wear black combat boots or something?” she snapped, all defensive.
“The ones you wore in high school?”
“No. I have new ones.”
“They’re pink, aren’t they?”
“Maybe.”
That meant yes, her combat boots were very pink. “Honestly, I thought you would wear something more colorful.”
“Why—so everyone could talk about me?”
He glanced at her, noting the hurt on her face. “If you care that much about what people think of you, then why do you dress and talk the way you do?”
“Why would I change myself to fit their standards?”
“I didn’t say you had to, but you know how people are.”
“That’s why nothing changes.”
More than a little irritated by the direction their conversation had taken, he tried again. “I’ve never had a problem with the way you dress, your hair color, or your tattoos.”
“Isn’t that special.”
Keep ignoring her insults
, he reminded himself. “In fact, I’ve always thought you were sexy.” He glanced at her again so he could see her reaction.
She turned to him. “You’re a horrible liar.”
“Not lying.”
“Whatever.”
“Believe what you want, but I’m telling you the truth.”
She grew quiet. He turned up the radio and began to hum along.
Leaning forward, she cut the volume down. “I wore the dress for your mother. Willow bought it for me. She tailored it and added more sparkly sequins and beads to make it more to my liking.”
“She’s a really good friend.”
“You’ve always had really good friends.” An image of Bella flashed in his mind, all of sixteen years old and scared to death as he held her hand in the emergency room.
“Figures,” she muttered, along with something else he couldn’t make out.
“What?”
“The light’s changed.”
A horn honked behind him.
He pressed on the gas.
The closer they got to the beach, the more Haven fidgeted. She played with her skirt, then adjusted the volume of the radio before tapping her fingers against her thigh. Then her leg started shaking.
She was nervous. Did she think he was going to throw her over his shoulder and take her to bed?
They both hit it and quit it.
Involuntarily, his hands tightened around the steering wheel. That was exactly what she thought would happen with them, even if she would be the one quitting him by getting a divorce. She had already set them up for failure before the ink was even dry on the marriage certificate.
But what could he do about it? Did he want to do something about it? Or just let things naturally progress? Honestly, he was in all-new territory. Not only was he married, but he was married to a woman who’d practically hated him his entire life and wanted a divorce as soon as possible.
The entire thing was fucked up on every level, but Heath knew what he had to do.
“That talk we had about your experiences and then when I was hitting on you while we were dancing…”
“I remember.”
“Don’t worry, Haven. All I plan to do this week is be in vacation mode. Maybe you should try it.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she agreed, shocking him. “I can’t remember the last time I took one.”
“Then prepare yourself, Mrs. Ambrose, I’m about to vacation you so good that you’ll never want to come back.”
Haven huffed, but he caught a glimpse of the smile on her face. The sight of it made him gave him the same feeling as when the Buccaneers won against the Braves.
On top of the world. Nothing could stop him.
Then again, his team had gone on to lose against the Yankees.
Chapter Ten
‡
T
he bellhop stepped opened the door to their hotel room, pulling the cart with their luggage attached and unloading it. After tipping and thanking the man, Heath secured the door behind him.
“Would you like some champagne?”
“No, and you didn’t have to change plans on me. I’d rather we stayed at the beach house.”
At the very last minute, he decided against the family beach house and had called The Magnificent Dunes for a suite. It felt odd taking her to the beach house, and not on a proper honeymoon, no matter how celibate she wanted to be. “Maybe so, but I think this is better. Besides, the suite has two beds, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Is this some kind of joke?” Haven muttered as they walked deeper inside the room.
He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say to her. He hadn’t expected the entire suite to be outfitted for lovebirds.
Rose petals practically covered the bed. A bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice with two flutes ready to be filled. Chocolate-covered strawberries in a crystal bowl.
Her expression softened. “You had them do all this for me?”
“Not exactly,” he admitted. “I let them know we were on our honeymoon, but I didn’t suggest any of this.”
“Because it would be an awkward ending to an already awkward day,” she said. “Go us.”
He looked at her, standing in the middle of a suite meant for romance while wearing a wedding dress that was meant for a dream wedding. He might not know everything about weddings, but he had sisters and they’d schooled him every chance they got.
“Why don’t you change first, and I’ll get us a table at Bluebelle.”
“Fine.” She trudged to the dresser and unzipped her suitcase, pulling out clothes. “I need your help.”
“Getting dressed?”
“No.” She presented him with her back. “There’s no zipper.”
He glanced at the tiny buttons, then at his big fingers. “I’m not sure this will work.”
“Always worked in romance novels.”
“Read those, do you?”
“I switch between those and comic books.”
“What one are you reading now?” he asked.
“Start at the top,” she said. “I’m reading
Runaways
. It’s about a group of kids who find out their parents are villains and work together to stop them.”
“Sounds like a movie I’d like to see.”
“You’re not into books?”
“Is that a question or sarcasm?”
Her eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror in front of them. “A question.”
“I don’t have a lot of time to read for pleasure, but when I was younger, Rick Riordan was my go-to guy.”
“Me, too. I loved his mythical gods series.”
Concentrating on pushing buttons the size of the tip of his pinky finger through loops of fabric, he tried not to get turned on, but with every slide, another glimpse of her creamy skin was revealed. Teasing him. Making him want to press his mouth against the exposed area.