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“So,” I said, easily changing the topic. “How do you see this going?”

She blinked. “This… marriage?”

“Yeah. What else?” she was such a contradiction, shy at times but mouthy and bold at others.

Ivy set her fork down and sighed, like she’d been thinking about this answer for a while and still wasn’t satisfied with what she came up with. “I don’t know, honestly. Treat me with kindness and respect and keep your hands to yourself.”

I set my fork down as my expression darkened. “Have I given you any reason so far to think I might put my hands on you in a way you’re not beggin’ for?”

That got a soft squeak out of her. “Um, well, no. It’s just, let’s call it experience.”

“Fine,” I said. “Same goes for you. Use your words and don’t do crazy shit.”

She fought a smile. I could see it at the corner of her mouth, that small battle between amusement and caution. “I’ve never done crazy shit. Except this,” she motioned to the space between us at the kitchen table. “Marrying a stranger.”

“This is about the craziest damn thing I’ve ever done too,” I admitted.

She grinned then and it was a real one, wide and unguarded, and I noticed for the first time what she actually looked like when she wasn’t bracing for something dangerous. Thick wavy auburn hair fell around her shoulders. Big green eyes with thick lashes and full lips were the highlights of her face, but that sprinkle of freckles across her nose gave a dose of girl next door to her knockout appearance. She was soft and meek, but she had full curves she kept hidden under that leather jacket all day.

She was a knockout. And she had absolutely no idea.

Dammit, that was the last thing I needed, an attractive wife. I’d been hoping for a woman with Rex Price’s face, not whatever the fuck this was across from me.

I pushed back from the table before I did something stupid like reach out and wrap my finger around a lock of her hair. “What’s your poison?”

She blinked those long lashes and then hit me with a slow grin that did things I chose to ignore. “Wine or scotch, but I prefer scotch.”

“I can do that.” Pouring booze into a glass was easy enough, easier than focusing on Ivy. I got up and poured two glasses, too aware of the way her gaze tracked my every move like she was trying to learn me.

“How come you don’t live at the clubhouse?” she asked, her voice lighter and less wary.

“I’ve got a room there,” I said, returning to the table with our drinks. “The living quarters are a lot smaller than this place. Figured you might want a little space until we get used to one another.”

Her brows crinkled. “Oh.” She paused, surprised. “Well, um, thank you for thinking about that. It is, ah, unexpected.”

I was starting to get a clearer picture of just how bad things had been for her with Rex. Every small, decent thing landed like a surprise. “Yeah well,” I said. “I’m a nice guy.”

Ivy’s smile came slow but sincere. “I’m starting to see that. I thought you were a Reddit nice guy, not like a real, you know, nice guy.” She shook her head, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “Seriously, Knox. This is all kind of weird, and I appreciate having time to adjust. A lot.”

I set my glass down. “Look, Ivy. We’re stuck together no matter what. We can be friends. Partners, even. You have my back, I have yours. No ulterior motives.”

She was wary, it was written all over her face. She nibbled her bottom lip nervously as she thought it over, before she made her decision. “Yeah. Okay.”

I raised my glass.

She raised hers.

“To new friends,” I said.

“To a new life,” she added quietly. Finally, over a glass of scotch, she actually ate a few bites before she declared herself done with dinner. “I think I need to rest,” she said, standing abruptly. And then, without waiting for me to say anything, she took off up the stairs like someone was chasing her.

I sat there for exactly three seconds, listening to the shower above me, before my brain went to a place it had no business going, wondering what she looked like under that black dress that hid every detail. My wife had curves, that much I noticed immediately. The kind you noticed even more when you were actively trying not to.

I shot up out of my chair and hung her leather jacket by the door before putting the dishes in the sink.

I went to my room and stared at the ceiling for five torturous minutes.

How the fuck was I supposed to sleep with nothing but a wall between us? The house was so quiet I heard the drops of water slide over her bare skin. “Fuck!” I jumped from the bed, pacing while I decided what to do.