Who’s Irina?
Irina and the Beast?
Why Knox?
“Ha. That’s cute,” he said, but he didn’t like the flavor left on his tongue, that’s why he rarely visited these sites. He frowned, ready to dive into the rabbit hole of shame.
“Okey dokey.” Irina moved behind him and looked over his arm. “So let’s close that down and move on to things that aren’t so depressing.”
He turned, stuck his phone in his pocket. “Like what you need from me?”
She pinched her lips and somehow smiled at the same time. “I’m going to L.A. for the auditions. Can you hold things down here and finish up a few of the last tasks?”
What things? “Like wedding shit?”
She nodded eagerly.
“You sure?” He kicked back against the wall, since he didn’t have a recliner to lounge in and only one beanbag chair. “My job description was pretty much to show up. Do you really want to trust me with this?”
This is where having an American Express card came in handy.
“Don’t worry, I wrote it all down.” She held up her cell and clicked a button.
His phone vibrated in his pocket with a clear incoming text.
“Sent.” She grinned. “Wedding planner is on standby and it’s only a few executive decisions while I’m away, so we don’t get behind.”
“One question.” He held up one finger.
She quirked an eyebrow. The woman had solid control over her facial muscles. He dug that about her.
“Where are we getting married?” he asked, since that was the thing he needed to know most at the moment.
“What do you mean? Where?” she asked, as though he’d stumbled over his word choices.
“Where’s the location of our nuptials?” He ran his thumbnail under the bottom edge of the beer label.
She set her beer down on the sub-counter. “Dude.”
“Dude, what?” He lifted his hands wide.
She rolled her eyes. “I told you where we’re getting married. I asked you if it worked for you and we agreed on it.”
He pulled his lips to the side. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I guess I missed it.”
They weren’t even married yet, and he had a track record of nodding along with whatever she wanted.
She crossed her arms. “Dude.”
The tips of his ears itched like they did when he was about to get in trouble. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“I guess you’ll have to work harder to remember.” She leaned in, scented like cinnamon, tea, and warmth. Could warmth be a scent? Huh. He’d never really thought much about it before, but it was totally Irina. He liked this about her, this comforting bit.
“Or you could tell me?” He turned on his own warmth, the one that usually worked to get him what he wanted. The low tone of his words, soft rasp as they came out of his mouth. Long stare into the eyes of the woman who would be his wife.
She stared right back.
Neither of them blinked.
