“Will you stop asking that question now?” He sounded hopeful.
“I’ll try.” It was the best I could do. “I get a little nervous sometimes. In two months I’m going to get everything I ever wanted but it feels as if the world will try to slap me back.”
“We won’t let the world do that.” He tugged me tighter against him. “It’s going to be okay.” He used his free hand to turn off the lamp on the nightstand.
Pink lightning illuminated the window. The rain was still coming down in a torrent. The thunder rumbled around the lighthouse.
“Let’s talk about the wedding,” Galen said in a soft voice. “That will get you to wind down.”
“I was thinking about something else to wind me down,” I teased, my fingers dancing over his chest.
“Is that so?”
I was solemn when I looked into his eyes. The frequent lightning made that possible. “Only if you’re feeling up to it.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“I know how much you love a challenge.”
His eyes turned wolfish and his nostrils flared. “There’s only one thing I love more,” he said.
“It had better be me.”
“Forever.”
I smiled.
“Now get ready to be wowed, because I’m going to challenge you until you pass out and get some sleep.”
GALEN WAS A MORNING PERSON,inevitably awake before me. Itended to struggle toward wakefulness. For me, greeting the day was a three-step process. The first step was the morning snuggle.
“Morning,” Galen said as I rolled to rest my head on his shoulder. He made room, going so far as to kiss the top of my head. “How are you feeling today?”
“Sleepy,” I replied.
His mouth slid into a sexy smile. “Your hair is … interesting.” He lightly tugged a strand.
I was not one of those who woke refreshed and relaxed. Galen looked somehow better when he woke. His beard was thick first thing in the morning — he could grow facial hair faster than anybody I’d ever known — and his eyes were always filled with amusement rather than grumpiness.
I, on the other hand, woke up looking as if I’d slept in a wind tunnel. If I remembered to braid my hair before bed it wasn’t as bad, but that rarely happened. Sometimes it felt as if I needed an industrial rake to get through my hair. The humidity on the island only made things worse.
“I’m not ready for banter yet,” I warned him. “I need ten minutes of this.” I gestured to my hand on his chest.
“Fair enough.” Galen was good about letting me wake at my own speed. He was a big fan of running on the beach in the morning, but he’d essentially given it up since meeting me. He said keeping up with my antics was cardio enough.
He hummed to himself as he went back to looking at his phone. “You want your father to come for the wedding. Have you given him the date?”
“I emailed him,” I replied. “He’s coming.”
“Good. Anyone else from the mainland you want to come?”
That was a sticky question. “I don’t know.”
“You had friends. I’ve seen the photos.”
Of course I had friends before moving to Moonstone Bay. They’d tried to talk me out of coming to the island. Given my financialsituation — I was out of work and struggling — I couldn’t ignore a free home on a tropical island.
My initial assumption was that I would come to the island, get the lighthouse in order, maybe spend a few months doing a lifestyle cleanse, and then sell the property and move back to the mainland. I’d told my friends that was my plan.
