Annabelle walks out of our room with a full face of makeup, her hair perfectly styled, and dressed in a sundress and wedge sandals. I bite my lip to keep from smiling. She looks like she’s ready to waltz into a posh hotel for afternoon tea or the country club for a luncheon.
“Your version of casual, huh?” I tease her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her into me.
Shooting me a haughty glare, she replies, “Just tell me I look beautiful, Hayes.”
“You look beautiful, so fucking beautiful that you steal my breath away.” My lips graze her neck with a series of quick kisses before sinking my lips onto hers for a kiss.
God, I’m addicted to her kisses.
My hand coasts up her torso to palm her breasts. Stepping backwards, I push her against the wall and slide my hands down to her thighs, ready to lift her legs around my waist when she smacks my chest and pushes out of my grasp, making me groan.
“Weren’t you just griping about us running late?”
“Maybe I can call and push back our appointment?” I suggest, my voice infused with hope.
“Hayes.”
“Fine,” I grumble, taking her hand and grabbing my truck keys from the console table. “But we’ll pick this up where we left off when we get back home. Capisce?”
“Capisce, asshole,” she replies with a hearty laugh.
As we weave our way through downtown Nashville, Annabelle continues to pepper me with questions about where we’re going. I refuse to provide her with any answers and change the subject each time, which only irritates her. By the time I pull into Rowdy and Bailey’s neighborhood, Annabelle is sitting petulantly in the front seat with her arms crossed, staring out the passenger side window.
“Are we visiting Rowdy and Bailey?”
“Nope.” I drive further into the neighborhood before pulling up to a large, two-story home. The gated house sits on almost five acresof land with a long, tree-lined driveway. I roll down my window and punch in the gate code before driving up to the house.
“This is beautiful, Hayes,” Annabelle whispers, taking in the tranquil, almost pastoral setting. Set far back from the street, the home is surrounded by lush landscaping. The house itself is a French country-style home painted an aged ivory color with dusty blue trim and black wrought iron accents. There's even a second-story balcony that overlooks the backyard.
“Who lives here and why are we here? Are we meeting someone for lunch?” She pins me with a look of annoyance. “Now that we’ve arrived, you can finally tell me, right?”
The front door opens as we disembark from my truck, and Marsha walks out to greet us. “Glad y’all made it.”
Annabelle gasps when she sees the real estate agent. “Marsha, what are you doing here?” She whips her head to look at me, demanding answers.
“I asked Marsha to meet us here so that we could look at this house together. After staying in the condo for the past few months, I realized that we need something different. The girls need a home, not a glorified apartment. I saw this house online and thought it might work for us.”
“Us?” Annabelle queries me, dumbfounded. “You want us, the girls and me, to move into this house with you? You want to buy a house together?”
I circle my arms around her waist, tugging her body into mine. “Babe, we already live together. I just want to make it official. This house has everything we need. It’s in a neighborhood with great local schools, both public and private. It’s gated, so we won’t have to worry about our privacy being invaded. There’s a pool, an indoor gym, plenty of space for the girls to ride bikes and play outside. There’s even aplayscape in the backyard already. It has six bedrooms, so Claire and Grace can each have their own rooms with a few extra in case we want to add to our family… which I would be in favor of, by the way.”
“Are you serious, Hayes?” Wide-eyed, she gazes up at me.
“I’m serious.” Smiling, I kiss her forehead. “I want this more than anything, Yankee.” Releasing her from my embrace, I grab her by the hand and pull her into the house. “Come on, let’s look around. If you don’t love this house, then we’ll keep looking until we find one you love. Until we find our dream house.”
But she loved the house. We both did. And we placed an offer that afternoon, which was accepted.
Once we’re settled in the house and Annabelle feels more at ease with the life we’re building together, I’m going to ask her to marry me.
It’s backwards, sure. I’m doing everything out of order, but when have Annabelle and I done anything in the traditional order?
Hell, we slept together less than an hour after we met. So why not save the wedding for last?
But mark my words, Annabelle will be Mrs. Ruston Hayes one day soon.
Because I don’t think about her every now and then.
I think about her all the damn time.
