“We’ll just move to the crypt,” he drops casually.
“The what now?” I didn’t know the mansion had… a crypt. I thought those were under churches.
“The crypt. Where the vampire is buried.”
I laugh. “Nice try. Lilyvale doesn’t have a crypt. The vampire is buried under The Green.”
He looks at me sideways. “You don’t believe that shit, do you?”
“Course I do. It’s the truth. My gramps was there when the high schoolers tried to unearth him and The Greenfroze overin the month of June. So don’t tell me it’s a bunch of crap just because he was your ancestor.”
“He was not our ancestor.”
“Was too.”
“Willow! He died at the age of thirteen! He was not our ancestor.”
Ha! Got him. “Oh. So you know exactly who I’m talking about.”
“Of course I know who you’re talking about. He’s just not our direct ancestor.”
“Don’t get all technical on me. He was in your family, therefore he lived at the mansion, and, by the way, we never finished that conversation but I would very much like to have his bedroom if that’s at all feasible. Since we both know Lilyvale doesn’t have acrypt.”
He shakes his head but his mouth twitches right as his gaze slides to me, then back to the road. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Beyond the curvy brunette who doesn’t give much of a fuck about what people think about her.
“My wife sleeps in my bedroom.”
Lust zings through me, a sharp stab in my center, warmth all around me making me temporarily unable to speak.
“Don’t worry, there’s a couch there. Or two,” he adds after a too-long pause.
Two couches in a bedroom? How big is this room? I cross my arms to hide the confused state of my body. “Were you planning on having a lot of arguments with the previous future Mrs. Callaway?” Somehow the mention ofhis wifesummoned Anika in my mind.
He pulls abruptly over to the side, stopping the truck and facing me. “One thing I won’t allow, is my wife to be disrespected by anyone—including you. I won’t tolerate any of my exes names to be brought up in front of you, or by you.”
Why so upset? I soften my tone. “This is a fake marriage, Noah. There’s no need to be so protective.” Although I can’t say it’s not making me all hot and bothered. Whoever becomes the real Mrs. Callaway is in for a treat. For the millionth time, I wonder what happened with Anika. “She really did a number on you, didn’t she?”
“Who?” he frowns.
“She who shall not be named.”
Surprisingly, he laughs lightly at that, and not even in a bitter way. “Nah. She was okay,” he says, looking away from me and getting us back on the road.
I nod tightly, trying to let my whole being relax. After a few beats, I can’t hold it anymore. “Shedumpedyou. Right after your dad passed away.” Everyone in Emerald Creek was shocked at the news.
He shrugs. “She realized we weren’t meant to be together. She was right.”
I breathe easier. “You believe in soul mates?”
He glances my way. “No.”
That was a stupid question to ask, because now he’s going to ask me if I believe in soul mates. And what am I going to answer? That I had an inkling there might be such a thing when he helped me tie my shoelace at school, my first day living with Aunt Angela? That I started really believing in soul mates when he helped me pick up my books when he was in high school and I was in middle school and for some reason he was right there the only time all my books slid out of my grasp?
That besides the time he appeared out of nowhere to help me haul bags of topsoil at the school greenhouse, what really cemented my belief was when he let me use his phone—his cellphone—to call Ms. Angela and let her know I’d be late because a bunch of us were at the river and we were going to start a bonfire and who knows when that was going to end. I’dbeen twenty-one at the time, and I had run out of minutes on the cheapo plan I had for my cheapo phone, and Noah had—
“You don’t understand,” Noah interrupts my dangerous train of thought, bringing me back to the present where reality is a bitch that can still hold a certain appeal. “Things are going to get nasty. People are going to question our marriage.”
I try to backpedal from memory lane. “How do you know that?’
