I shake off the thought and cut into my steak some more, not really sure why this feels so much like a date when, to be honest, I haven’t been on adatein the traditional sense in years. Many of them. Maybe back to the college days, back before I was playing pro football and women cared about more than just that fact.
But Ainsley is different. I know it’s cliché to say the current woman holding my interest isdifferent, but in this case, it’s true. She’s my opposite in most ways, but she’s more interesting to me than anyone else I’ve been around in months. Years, even.
Maybe it’sbecauseshe’s so different from me.
I suddenly wonder how many men she’s been with. How many men have kissed the lips I briefly got to touch today at the end of the ceremony. The lips I haven’t stopped feeling againstmine since it happened. I wonder how many cocks those lips have been wrapped around. How many men have fucked her until she bit her bottom lip between her teeth as she came.
It’s not my business. She’s just my nanny. My sister’s friend. A girl helping me out.
But she’s also my wife, and the side of my brain that keeps reminding me of that fact wants to know the answers to those questions regardless of whether it’s my business or not.
I’m getting to the point where I want tomake itmy business.
And that’s a dangerous place to be since it’s completely new territory.
“What about you?” she asks.
“Huh?” I have no clue what she’s talking about. I was too focused on how many dudes she’s banged to remember where we left off.
“When was the first time you got drunk?”
“I was thirteen,” I admit.
“Thirteen?” she practically spits.
I lift a shoulder. “Madden was fifteen, and he gave me a bottle of tequila. I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to chug down half the bottle at once.” I shrug, and she laughs. “Speaking of getting drunk, there’s another charity event next week. Want to go public as my wife and we can turn it into our fun night out?” I ask.
She gasps a little at my question. “Who will watch the baby overnight?”
I shrug. “My coach, maybe. He and his wife have little kids, and I trust him.”
She contemplates that for a few seconds as if it’sherkid to find good care for, and my chest tightens a little.
She cares that much for Jack. Already. We’ve barely even started down this road, and she’s trying to make decisions for what’s best formykid as she continually assures me that I’m capable of doing it too.
She finally nods. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
I grin. “You won’t regret it.”
“That remains to be seen,” she huffs, and all I can do is just laugh.
CHAPTER 17: Dex Bradley
The Worst Dates
After dinner, we head to the family room. It feels like the next natural step, like you have a late-night dinner after you get the kid down, and then you head to the family room and turn on a show or whatever—only the television remains off, and conversation is on instead.
“Did you ever see yourself married to someone eleven years younger than you?” she asks.
She’s sitting on the couch, and I opted for the recliner. I suddenly wish I was a little closer to her.
I laugh. “I never saw myself married to anyone, period, so no. What about you? You came to Vegas to get married, right?”
“Jordan was twenty-six, and truthfully, he just wasn’t ready for marriage. He shouldn’t have been there.”
“Want me to kick his ass?” I ask, surprised at the rage that seems to ripple through me that this guy who wasn’t good enough for her hurt her.
But if he hadn’t hurt her, I wouldn’t be sitting here with her right now.
