I nodded, but didn't relinquish her. She'd be leaving me soon enough, and that was a fact never far from my mind.
"Nick," she said, her fingertips grazing my temples as they tangled in my hair. It was an affectionate warning, and after holding her tight against me for a few seconds, I set her on the ground.
She wobbled, and I laughed. I had to, even if it earned me an arched eyebrow and sharp glare. "Oh, darlin'," I said. "If you're unsteady now, you're not going to be able to walk tonight."
Her eyes stared off toward the shore. "I don't know what to say to that."
I kissed her slowly, wanting to bring back the woman who—only a few hours ago—opened her darkest closets and secret hiding places to me, and then dared me to marry her. She was in there. "You don't have to say anything," I murmured against her jaw. "Just lead the way."
"You should know that I don't take a lot of guys home with me," she warned. "Or…any guys."
I tucked some stray wisps of hair over her ears. It was an effective diversion because I was still really fucking furious about the wayguyshad mistreated her in the past. Vengeance wasn't my style, but I wanted to have some words with that goddamn pedophile English teacher. If her father were alive, he'd be on my list, too.
"I'm not aguy," I said, aiming for an even tone. "I'm your husband. Big difference."
"This isn't real," she protested.
"It's as real as we want it to be."
"Don't delude yourself," she chided. "We had a beer together and shared some confessions, and then we sorted lobsters and you faux-proposed to me. We don't have to pretend this is anything even close to real."
It hadn't taken long for me to see that Erin was a runner. She ran because she'd been hurt in the past, and she ran to keep herself from getting hurt again. Now she was hunkering down in the starting blocks, ready to take off all over again.
"I know we didn't get a chance to talk through the specifics, but let me tell you this," I said, tapping a fingertip to her chest. "You and me? We're very much real."
"You're just saying that," she murmured. "You're good at the getting-laid sweet-talk."
"I should spank you for suggesting I'd use a line on you," I said lightly.
"Try it and I'll castrate you," she said. "Really, though. There's a Swiss Army knife in my pocket that's just waiting to stab some sac."
I leaned back and met her eyes, nodding when I realized she was serious. She was a broken girl.Was. This woman was like roughly patched steel, rusty and thick with scars at the joints, but stronger for it.
And proficient in knife-wielding, apparently.
"Yeah, okay," I said. "Give me the rules, darlin'."
"It's nothing," she said, waving me away.
"It's something. I can't respect your limits if you don't define them for me." Erin folded her arms under her chest. I swallowed a groan because goddamn it, those tits were on a silver platter and she was having doubts and somehow—some-fucking-how—we were no closer to a bedroom. "Now you're taunting me," I said through a clenched jaw.
"Not intentional," she said, dropping her arms and reaching for me. "But no spanking, okay? None of that."
"That would've fit nicely in the vows, Skip," I said. "You know, the whole 'to have and to hold, until death—or spanking—do you part.'"
"We'll use that for our ten-year vow renewal, okay?"
"Fuck yes," I said. "But only if we can get that guy again. Bartlett. He's gotta be there."
"And the boat, too?" she asked. "Should we recreate the entire night?"
I scratched the back of my neck, considering. "If we can do it without the lobster sorting, yeah. I don't love the aroma of drying seaweed on me."
Erin nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I need to get these clothes off."
"Now we're talking," I cried. "Lead the way, wife."
Heading toward the inn's main entrance, she reached back and grabbed my hand, towing me along with her. It was different, watching her now. Maybe it was the perspective or the morning sunlight, or the way she had her shoulder-length hair tied in a messy tail. Maybe it was that we got married.
