I get to work making us breakfast while Heath sits at the counter, watching my every move.
“When did you want to go to the courthouse?” I ask as I set our plates on the counter.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
I sit next to him, and we dig in.
“I’d like to tell my best friend about all of this,” I mumble around a piece of bacon.
He finishes his eggs. “Okay.”
“She won’t tell,” I assure him.
“Okay,” he repeats.
“She’s the only family that I have left,” I ramble. “I’d like her to be my maid of honor. Are we having those? We should talk about that.”
“Whatever you want,” Heath replies.
I finish my breakfast, and he clears our plates.
“I’ll clean. You go get ready.”
I don’t argue. Going back upstairs, I grab my clothes from my backpack. I enter the bathroom, marveling at the size of his shower as I strip and step under the hot water. I spend way toomuch time in the bathroom getting ready. By the time I towel off and get dressed, it’s almost noon.
Heath is waiting for me in the living room when I go downstairs.
“Ready to go?”
I nod, and we head out to his car.
“You never told me why you need the money,” he says as we head into town.
“Oh, it’s for my grandparents’ house.”
He frowns as he glances at me.
“They passed away last year. They were my last blood relatives, and they left me their house, but it needed repairs. Then I got behind on bills and… I just couldn’t lose the place,” I finish softly.
He doesn’t say anything, just reaches over and takes my hand in his.
“More practice?” I ask, lifting our joined hands.
“What?”
“You said we slept together last night as practice. Is this more practice?”
“Oh, no. I just don’t like it when you’re sad. I was trying to… comfort you. Is it not working?”
“No, it is,” I assure him when he tries to pull back. “It’s nice. Thanks.”
He grunts, and we drive the rest of the way into town in silence.
This man is such a mystery. One minute he’s cold and withdrawn, the next he’s sweet, then the next he’s all sexy and growly alpha male. I can’t keep up.
“Why are you getting married?” I ask as we park outside. “Sorry, fake married.”
He tenses at my words, and I squeeze his hand, wondering what it could be that has him on edge.
