“Right?”
“I’d be nervous too,” Marshall said. “A baby’s a big deal. Whether it’s number one or number ten.”
“Ten?”
Marshall shrugs. “I like the idea of a full house.”
I stare at him as though he’s someone else entirely. I’ve only known Marshall to be the flirty, playboy type. It’s one of the reasons I’ve shut down any attempts he’s made to ask me out. I didn’t want to be just a notch on his bedpost. I was convinced the man didn’t have a single settling down gene in his body.
“You want kids?” I ask, forgetting we have an audience until Rose plants her elbows on the counter and waits for his answer almost as eagerly as I do. The only difference is she has no shame in showing it.
“Yeah, of course. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do,” I answer hesitantly, convinced this is some kind of trap but having no idea what kind.
“How many?” he asks.
“I don’t know. A few?”
“Good answer,” he says, winking at me.
My lady bits buzz with anticipation—anticipation of what, I have no idea. They probably think we’re going to board that baby-making train any minute. Not all body parts have registered the very fake nature of this arrangement. All this having kids talk is probably preparation for some conversation we’ll have in front of Hillary to better sell this farce.
At least I think so.
Because there is no way Marshall McCray is actually interested in makingrealbabies with me.
Making fake ones could be fun…
“You two are too cute!” Rose teases.
“Right?” Marshall agrees, draping an arm over my shoulder and tugging me tight against him.
My nipples harden into peaks, and dammit if I don’t have the animalistic urge to turn all the way into him, until my breasts are smashed up against his hard chest. Even from the side, I’m hit with the same woodsy spice scent I noticed on the front porch when he had his tongue down my throat. Would it be weird if I asked him to roll around my sheets so I could keep that scent close to me at night?
Yes Hope, that’sveryweird.
“You two stay out of trouble,” Rose teases, and finally what she said earlier registers.
“Wait, you know?” I ask her.
“Know what?” Rose asks.
“That Marshall and I are?—”
“Oh,” Rose says, cutting me off. A knowing expression falls over her face. She gives me a wink, pulls out her phone, and adds, “I’ll spread the word about that too.”
“Good,” Marshall says, his gaze snagging on mine. My heart leaps into my throat. Damn the man for looking so sexy it should be illegal. “I want all of Daisy Hills to know we’re madly in love.”
I know this fake.
But certain body parts—particularly of the baby-making variety—are struggling to process that very important distinction in this moment.
4
MARSHALL
“This doesn’t bother you?”Hillary asks me, waving her hand around at the festive decorations that seemed to have exploded around Hope’s living room. She’s settled into the recliner since Hope, Gram, and I have claimed the couch.
