If Jules says ‘no’ to this little weekend trip, I’m going to look like a desperate moron. But at this point, I’m too far gone to care.
I’m into her. I’m so fucking into her. Is it crazy that I’m wishing she feels the same?
By the time her mouth finally opens again, I’m legitimately sweating.
“You’re sure about this?” she asks.
“One hundred percent. Me. You. Two Days. Off the grid.”
Her eyes light up as the slowest grin splits her face. “Fine. I'm in.”
“Yes!” I punch the air like a damn fool.
Her little giggle fills the bedroom. “Where are we going,husband?”
She says that magic word and I’m ready to give her anything in the world.
“A place where absolutely nobody will be able to find us,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around her in a relieved hug.
Her expression goes slightly suspicious. “This better be good.”
I chuckle. “I guarantee it will be.”
45
JULES
“You weren’t kidding about not being found…” I gaze through the window of our room here at the Kingston Family Inn in Crescent Harbor.
Everything about this rustic, off-the-grid bed and breakfast that Lincoln selected for us fascinates me. The hand-painted direction signs posted in the gravel driveway. The claw-foot tub in the ensuite bathroom. The cows mooing outside our stained glass window. The miles and miles of farm fields spanning in almost every direction.
I know this charming little place is a far cry from the fancy hotels where Lincoln normally stays when he travels for work. Easton and Alba recommended this place after spending their honeymoon here. So far, I give it two thumbs up. Especially since there’s not a fully-equipped co-working space or a five-star convention center in sight.
The cell service out here in the middle of nowhere is practically non-existent. We had to give Lincoln’s mom the inn’s landline number just in case Cameron needs to reach us.
“Do you like it?” he asks, handing me a tall, bubbly glass of the breakfast mimosa we ordered from room service.
I take a sip. “I’m impressed…and maybe a little terrified.”
He lifts a brow in question.
“If my still-new husband was looking for an easy insurance payout, this would be an excellent place to hide my body,” I accuse.
He rolls his eyes, pinching my butt.
I yelp. “Jeez. Kidding.” I set my drink on a nearby table and run my palms down his chest. “I love it. It’s very romantic. Thank you.”
In fact, this is hands-down the most romantic thing any man has ever done for me. My brain is struggling to process it.
Even my guardian angel is highly confused, because this whole relationship was supposed to be fake, an exposition for the world to see. Yet, here I am with Lincoln, alone in the middle of nowhere, with no crowd to convince, no business partners to impress. Just champagne and candlelight and long, slow kisses.
And I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what’s going through Lincoln’s mind.
I do know what I want. I want this marriage to be real. I want Lincoln to fall for me, the way I’ve fallen for him. But that was never a part of this deal.
Just as I’m sinking deeper into our kiss, Lincoln suddenly smacks my ass and pulls out of my arms. “Okay. Let’s go. Our first adventure awaits us.”
“Squee! I’m so excited,” I chirp as he grabs my hand and leads me to the door.
