CHAPTER 1
Carter
The morning after our wedding, I expected a little quiet. Maybe coffee on the porch with my wife curled against me, the kind of slow morning people always talk about.
But I don’t, because in pure Catalina fashion, I find her standing in the hallway bathroom with her hands on her hips, her silk robe slipping off one shoulder.
“Carter, I love our bathroom,” she starts, staring at me with her beautiful eyes. “I really do, baby. It’s perfect. But this?” She continues, waving dramatically at the old wood vanity and the chipped basin sink in the guest bathroom. “This is so ugly.”
I lean against the doorframe with my arms crossed, watching her glare at the sink. “Good morning to you, too, darlin’.”
She ignores me, pacing barefoot across the tile. “I definitely can’t get ready in here when the mirror is the size of a postage stamp. I want a bath in here, Carter. A real one. My own area to get ready.”
I drag a hand down my face, already groaning. “You’re telling me your idea of a honeymoon is remodeling the guest bath?”
“Yes.” She says it so matter-of-factly, I almost laugh.
“Jesus Christ, Catalina.”
“What?” She tilts her chin, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who married me. And besides—” she softens her tone, slipping closer, “—don’t you want your wife happy?”
That word, wife, knocks the wind right out of me every damn time.
I crowd into the room, bracing a hand on either side of the vanity, caging her in. Her scent, which drives me wild, wafts into my senses, vanilla and lavender.
A sly little smirk stretches across her lips because she knows that I’ll give her anything she wants and more.
“You don’t fight fair, baby,” I whisper against her jaw.
She spreads her hands across my broad chest, gently tugging at my flannel collar. “Didn’t promise I would.”
God, I’d rip out every damn bathroom in this house if it meant keeping her looking at me like that.
“You want your honeymoon, baby? Fine,” I tell her, caressing my fingers across her jawline. “But you’re swinging the hammer too. I’m not doing all the work while you sit there looking pretty.”
Her brow arches. “Are you saying I don’t look good with power tools?”
“I’m saying,” I mutter, dragging my lips across hers, “you’ll look even better covered in dust and begging me to carry you to the shower.”
Her laugh bubbles out as she tightens her grip on my collar. “You’ll be begging me, cowboy.”
“Fuck yeah, I will, baby.” I kiss her, deep enough to make her forget about the damn sink for at least a minute.
I finally pull back, she’s grinning, cheeks flushed. “So… shirtless demolition?”
I groan, resting my forehead against hers.
Because when Catalina Hayes decides our honeymoon is remodeling a bathroom, there’s no universe where I can tell her no.
I’m pushinga damn cart through Home Depot, staring at my sexy little wife trotting around the aisles. Catalina’s in ripped jeans and a small tank top, her hair up in a messy bun with that lavender bow I swear she wears just to drive me crazy. She’s walking quickly, eyes wide, practically vibrating as she pulls me through aisles of sinks and cabinets.
“This one,” she says, stopping at a vanity with gold hardware and a marble top. She bends down to run her hand over it, and my brain short-circuits because all I can think about is how good her ass looks in those jeans.
I clear my throat. “Looks like a sink.”
She whirls around, scandalized. “A sink? Carter, it’s more than just a sink. It’s a statement. Do you want people walking into our house and thinking we have no taste?”
“Baby, no one’s walking into our guest bathroom thinking about style. They’re just trying to take a piss without you barging in.”
