“There’s that secret poet side of you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m a secret poet since I want to save the planet from climate change and human destruction.”
“We should all be secret poets then.” I travel up his body to trace the tiny horses on his biceps. I kiss one of them, and he shudders. I look up. “And these are for the ranch. Your family?”
“Yeah, my dad was a PT focusing on equine therapy. Gavin and Mira are now.”
“That’s a nice way to honor them.” My hand slides down his body to the tiny cat on his abs. “For Thor?”
“And the next one, and the next one.”
“Already planning to adopt more cats?”
“Of course.”
“Such a cute cat daddy.”
Like an owl flying, his hands dart out without a sound and he grabs me, hoisting me above him.
“Lake!”
“Spend the night again.”
I barely register what he says, since I’m laughing and kicking my feet while he holds me with arms straight up, like this is easy. But my laughter fades as I look into his eyes. They’re flashing with vulnerability. “Will you stay with me again?”
My heart does the tango. It’s outrageous how much I want that. How quickly that tightness in my chest vanishes. How much I crave time with him. “Yes.”
He lowers me, swallowing roughly as he sets me gently down on his chest, my body aligned with his. “And whenever you can. Maybe until the wedding when this ends.” It sounds like there are stones in his mouth. “But until then, what if we just…give in? I can really show you the full boyfriend treatment.”
“Fake boyfriend. Real dick?”
He laughs. “We know how much you like to ride my cock.”
I swat his chest. But he’s right, I really do.
So I say yes.
35
DREAMING OF MY BERRY BAR
LAKE
Always have a strategy.
That’s what my college coach taught me, and it feels especially apropos right now.
Because I’ve had the wrong strategy for the last couple of days and I only just realized it. Hey, maybe the sex last night knocked some sense into my brain. Maybe I need to have more sex to get more sense knocked into my brain.
No shit.
Either way, I should have been getting to know Remy even more these last couple of days instead of pulling back after she said we should cool things off.
But no time like the present. As I drown my pancakes, slathered already in a heaping serving of strawberries, blackberries, and blueberries from the berry bar, I say, “So the list. You’ve got it, right?”
“Of course.” She digs into her purse, sitting next to her on the red vinyl booth at the Candy Cane Diner on Main Street where we’re having breakfast. “What do you take me for? Someone unprepared?”
A stupid grin threatens my mouth. “You’ve probablyalready entered everything from it into a spreadsheet,” I say, setting down the syrup and taking a bite.
