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“You know what this is,” Legend tells him. “Of course I’m hooked on her. She’s my wife. I live with her, sleep next to her…. We share meals together. Whatever else this is or isn’t is between us.”
“Leave them be,” Roman speaks up. “It’s none of our business. When they want us to know, they’ll tell us.” He gives Legend a look. One I can’t describe. From the corner of my eye, I see my husband nod.
“Can I have my niece now?” Forrest asks. The table erupts in laughter, and the tension and awkward moment are put behind us.
Legend kisses Lilly’s cheek before passing her off to Forrest. His hand immediately goes to my thigh under the table as he eats with one hand. It’s obvious, and I see our friends giving us curious looks. Maddox and Lachlan are smirking like they have secrets that only they know about.
I pretend like nothing is happening and continue to eat my food. The conversation changes to the new shop, and I’m reminded of how we got into this situation. The guys all deserve the best, and Legend getting his inheritance will help all five of them, as well as my best friend and her daughter. Even if my heart gets broken in the end, it will all have been worth it. I can say, ahead of the pain I know that’s coming my way, I would do it all over again if given the chance.
Today was my day off. I work four ten-hour shifts. My day off rotates each week, but I love having a day off during the week to run errands. The first thing I did this morning was go to the grocery store before it got packed. I came home, unloaded everything, and started cleaning and doing laundry.
Legend is a pretty clean guy. He picks up after himself, and he’s not afraid to jump in and help clean the house. I did some deep cleaning today. I scrubbed both bathrooms from top to bottom, as well as wiped down the cabinets and the walls in the kitchen before cleaning the counters and moving on to the floors. I’ve done five loads of laundry, most of which were bedding, and I think I’m more exhausted than if I’d been at my day job all day.
I’ve also got roast potatoes and carrots in the Crock-Pot. What we don’t eat tonight, I’ll turn into vegetable soup for tomorrow night. The weather is warm, being late in the middle of June in Tennessee, but homemade vegetable soup is my favorite. I make it just like my mom does. She uses a can of spicy vegetable juice and a can of regular. It’s not hot, but it gives it a nice flavor. I’ve never made it for Legend, but so far, I haven’t found anything that man won’t eat.
I’m in the kitchen, grabbing bowls, when I hear the front door open. When I turn to say hello, Legend is standing there with a white box and a small gift bag in his hands. “What’s all this?” I ask him.
“Can’t a man spoil his wife?” His grin is infectious.
“You spoil me enough.”
“Never.” He places the white box down on the counter. “This, my darling wife, is a homemade cinnamon streusel cake. I picked it up at the bakery in town.” He hands me the small gift bag. “This is for you.”
“Legend, you have to stop doing this.” He’s constantly dropping treats off to me at work, buying me blankets because he knows I love them and you can never have too many. I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s given me flowers.
His reply is to bend his head and kiss me. “Thank you for making dinner. It smells great.”
“Stop ignoring me.”
“I’m not ignoring you. You didn’t ask a question. You made a statement that I don’t agree with. I’m not engaging in that argument.”
“I’m here because I want to be.” That statement holds more meaning than he will ever know.
He loops his arms around my waist so we’re standing chest to chest. “And I spoil you because I want to.”
“How are you still single?” I ask him.
“I’m not.” His smile leaves his face. “I’m happily married.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I was waiting for you.” His lips land on the corner of my mouth.
“You’re going to be a tough act to follow, Legend Raines.”
“What if I told you I wanted to be your only act? In fact, what if I told you I’m not acting at all?”
My breath stalls in my lungs before I pull in a deep breath. “W-What are you saying?” My hands are sweating, and my knees are weak. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
He lifts me to sit on the kitchen island and steps between my legs. His hands are braced on either side of me as he leans in close. “I’m saying that I can’t imagine being married to anyone else. I’m saying that the thought of another man getting his hands on you makes my blood boil.” He lifts those solid, calloused hands and cradles my cheeks. “I’m saying that I’m in love with my wife. I’m not pretending, Monroe. I haven’t been for a long damn time.”
I bite down on my bottom lip to keep the happy tears from rolling down my cheeks. I swear this man has made me an emotional basket case in the time I’ve spent with him. Who knew one person could shed so many tears of joy?
With his thumb, he gently tugs, releasing my lip from my teeth. “Tell me what you’re thinking?”
“I love you too,” I blurt. I inwardly cringe because he gave me this sweet speech, and all that I can manage to do is blurt out the words. However, the slow, sexy smile he gives me tells me he’s okay with the outcome.
“Yeah?”
