Eyes blackening, Samson mutters, “Yeah, he’s not gonna hurt me either. If he tries, I’ll just remember the—” He cusses. “—nonsense he just spouted, and kill him.”
I shiver. “What about that stuff you said about murder being discouraged?Highlydiscouraged, even.”
“Lemonade.” His fingers slip through my hair, pushing it back behind my ear. “I’m positive he just encouraged it.” Reaching for the bag I’m holding lamely in front of me, Samson helps the straps onto my shoulders and kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable by suggesting what I did. Bruce has been a notorious womanizer from the moment he learned what to do. You…” His head dips, grazing our noses. “…you are very beautiful. Exceptionally so. You’ve heard his language in casual conversation. I don’t want you subjected to how he behaves when he’s propositioning.”
My heart flutters, and I nestle myself closer to Samson’s chest, as close as I dare. “I… It’s okay. I don’t mind being considered…your wife.”
“Beatsdaughter,” he grumps, kissing my cheek before pulling back to take my hand again. “You look nothing like me. That woman is insane.”
I firmly agree. With everything that this man has ever said.
Well, except that time he told me not to go after a queen slime.
Everythingelsethis man has ever said.
“Come on. Let’s get a room reservation for tonight just in case there’s an influx later, then I’ll take you around town. Assuming it’s still there, there’s a breakfast cafe a few streets down from the central inn.” Resuming a more manageable stride, Samson guides me forward.
I mull his words over as more NPCs than would ever make it into any cozy farm sim I know mill about. “Didn’t you tell me once that the inns deeper in the city were more expensive?”
“Yeah.”
“Yet we’re going to the central one?”
“It’s the nicest one.”
“And…we need the nicest one?”
Sighing, Samson meets my eye as he presses my knuckles to his lips. “Just let me spoil you, Lemonade. I’m not great with people, so I don’t know when I’ll work up the stamina to take you out here again.”
Working up the stamina to people issucha mood.
Working up the courage to say, “If I were really your wife, what do you think I’d say to this scheme of yours?” is less of a mood, but I manage it with flying colors.
Pensive, Samson hums, turning down a new road, toward a more ornate part of town. Finally, he replies, “Yes, dear.”
I blush. “That’s somewhat a demure taste in women, isn’t it?”
“A man can dream, can’t he?”
It takes every last one of my vertebrae, but I squeeze his hand and say, “Yes, dear.”
Chapter 23
♥♥♥♥♥♥
Just call mewifey.
I know I’m taking this bit too far, and honestly I did think my backbone was solidly out of vertebrae, but I amlivingfor the way Samson is letting me wife at him. It’s the most delusional make-believe game I’ve ever played, but I am quite thoroughly obsessed.
After picking up our room key at the inn, Samson took me to the cafe he’d mentioned before, telling me to order anything I wanted.
I skimmed the menu, got an egg sandwich for myself, and then ordered all the desserts.
Sitting beside him on the wooden booth, I beam as our table fills up with pastries and chocolates and parfaits and cakes. Oh. And my egg sandwich. After living off Samson’s breakfasts for the past two and a half weeks, it looks mediocre, so it’s a good thing I’m starving. “I’ll pay you back later,dear,” I whisper, reaching for my sandwich.
Wrapping an arm around my back, Samson pulls me in and presses a kiss to my temple before whispering back, “No, you won’t.” He kisses again. “Your bribery days are over.”
I rest my head against his chest, overcome by how perfectly I fit in his embrace. Like we were made for each other. “Never. ’Tis a wife’s favorite pastime.”
