Page 66 of Veiled

“And Mr. Rowe likes making Mrs. Rowe happy, as every good husband should,” I say with a wink.

He chuckles, “Yes, of course, Sweetheart. So, I’m betting that if we spend a bit of time out here tonight, Tara will be down here before too long.”

“—so when she comes down, we’ll be the fun, social neighbors here on our honeymoon that she won’t be able to resist getting to know.”

“Exactly! Then you will become her best friend for the weekend, getting us invited to the party the intel says they are having at their house tomorrow, and then we’ll have access to snoop around.”

“Not a bad plan at all, Aiden.”

He grins, tipping his glass toward me. “Glad to have your approval, Mrs. Carter.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

The fire crackles softly between us and the ocean that crashes against the shore. It’s annoyingly perfect, like the kind of night you’d want if this were an actual honeymoon.

“Oh my gods,” I groan as I bite into a carne asada taco.

“That good, huh?”

“You have no idea. Here,” I lean over, reaching out to pass it to him, “try it. It’ll change your life.”

Instead of grabbing it, he takes a bite while I’m holding it, and at the same time, he runs his thumb along the edge of my mouth. Never breaking eye contact, he dips his thumb into his mouth along with the food.

I’m mesmerized and entirely too turned on by someone I dislike so much.

“Delicious.”

I take a slow sip of wine, trying to refocus on the mission and not how sexy Aiden looks in the light of the fire.

Thankfully, he leans back in his chair and looks up at the star-covered sky. “You know, we should probably practice our cover stories before Tara shows up.”

“Okay, you start. Tell me about us.”

He tilts his head to the side, thinking for a moment before slipping effortlessly into character. “We met in a bar in the capital three years ago. You were studying to be a nurse; I was a newly appointed prosecuting attorney. We bonded over our shared love of coffee and being outdoors. We dated for two years before my long-overdue proposal, we got married last month, and this is our honeymoon.”

“Wow,” I say, raising a brow. “You sound like you’ve been rehearsing that.”

He shrugs, his lips twitching. “Maybe I have. You want to poke holes in it, or can we agree it’s solid already?”

“It’s—mostly believable, but I am terrible at healing, so how about I was studying to be a therapist?” I suggest.

“Therapist, huh?”

“That’s what I wanted to do before Scion,” I admit without meaning to give that part of me away. “Now we need the little details, things we can both answer without hesitation. Favorite color, nicknames, favorite food, pets' names—all the stuff a real couple would know.”

“Pets' names?” he repeats, teasingly, “That’s dangerous password territory.”

“You’re ridiculous. Now, answer the questions before she shows up.”

“Bossy, bossy.” He tsks before answering, “My favorite meal is steak with garlic mashed potatoes, never had a pet, and as far as nicknames go, I’ll answer to whatever you call me.”

“And favorite color?”

He starts to answer, but then his gaze shifts toward the neighboring beach house.

“Showtime,” he murmurs as he gently reaches to rest his hand on my thigh.

Resisting the urge to throw it off or hope it moves higher; I follow his line of sight. Sure enough, a woman in a flowy sundress is making her way down the stairs, waving cheerfully as she approaches, glass of wine in hand and a lantern in the other.