She chooses to sit one butt cheek on my desk, her foot dangling. It’s too comfortable. Too easygoing. Too natural. Like we’ve been doing this for years. “I’m going to have to work here,” she says.
Absolutely not.I chuckle. “And why is that?” I wipe my glasses and put them back on.
She starts telling me about people asking weird questions at town hall, how Kiara seems to think that the timing of our wedding is a tell there’s more to it, and finally Chris having some theories about what the Callaway women should and shouldn’t do in town. “For what it’s worth, he did say I was a greatsalesperson, with a sense for business, so…” She looks at me with hope in her eyes, and it nearly kills me.
“He let you go?” I bark and reach for my phone.
Her eyes widen. “What are you doing?”
I scroll through my contacts list. “Telling Chris this is no way to treat my wife. The fuck is wrong with him?” It’s all my fault. First, she gets into a fight with her mom. Now this.
“Noah, no.” She takes a shaky breath. “Please don’t do this. It’s… embarrassing. He meant well. The Callaway image and all that.”
Jaw clenched, I set my phone down. “Alright. You can just pick a spot and read a book… or whatever.”
She narrows her eyes on me. “Excuse-me-what? Did you hear the part where he said I was a great salesperson?”
Oh hell no. “I’m not… I don’t… this was never the plan.” It’s hard enough to have her at home.
I’m not a big enough man to subject myself to the temptation of her 24/7.
She leans over to look me in the eye, giving me a prime view on her cleavage, and suddenly my mood is elevated to heights previously unknown. I try to keep my gaze focused on her eyes.
It’s hard.
“I am not risking the very generous arrangement I have with you because you don’t know how to delegate,” she says in a tone she might think is threatening.
I don’t knowwhat? “Excuse me?” I ask, trying to sound way more irritated than I feel. Her answer is lost to me. Only the sound of her voice makes it to my consciousness, the message irrelevant. The vision of my wife all mussed up from the rain, perched on my desk, with her boobs close enough that I could lose myself in them just by tilting my head is enough to dissipate any kind of annoyance life might throw at me.
Willow is rarely upset, but when she is—full-on fire. Her skin gets a sort of inner glow, her eyes brighten, her lips are redder and fuller, and there’s an overall energy radiating from her… it just makes me wonder what she’s like in bed.
“Got me?” she asks.
I have no fucking clue what she said, but her delivery was chef’s kiss. “Sure,” I answer, shaking my head, hoping I can rile her up on the regular.
She hops off the desk, a great big smile on her face. “Great! I’ll get right on it.” She turns on her heel andbends over,the damp dress clinging to her ass.
I clear my throat and shift in my chair, my hard-on uncomfortable. “What are you doing?”
She looks at me over her shoulder, still partly bent, one foot up, unsteady on the other. “Putting on my house shoes.”
Ah, hell.
That must mean she’s staying.
sixteen
Willow
Well that was easy. All I needed to do was put my foot down and the man just… caved. Who knew marriage could be so easy peasy?
So maybe Kiara’s right. Maybe my heart will end up being collateral damage. But so what? My goal is to be the most believable wife to Noah Callaway, and looking around me, I see I have my work cut out. Chris is right, all the Callaway ladies always worked at the store—I remember from old pictures on a projector during social studies, and Mrs. Callaway was here most of the time, keeping a gentle eye on the candy aisle when we came by after school.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I turn most of the lights on and get the coffee machine started. It might make horrible lattes, but there’s nothing like the smell of coffee in the morning. It just wakes people up, and it’s at the intersection of home and workday—that perfect moment when your whole life is inbalance, and everything seems possible. It seems to me the store should smell like coffee in the morning and cinnamon in the afternoon.
Next, I go to the very back, where all the outdoor gear is sold. And frankly, what’s up with that? It makes no sense. I personally hate it when stores change the layout on you constantly, but frankly, now that I’m on the other side of it, I can relate. It’s not to annoy and confuse your customer, but to present to her what she is going to absolutely want in this moment.
Today? Umbrellas.
