My jaw drops.
It’s a turn on watching my husband’s muscles flex, and those massive biceps bunch, and when his jacket rides up, I can’t even tell you what the sight of those tight buns of his does to me. I’m so wet, I could rival the Pacific.
I count to thirty-six, before he drops down, shakes out his arms and turns to me. "I’m ready."
He does look calmer. And the tent at his crotch has deflated—slightly.
"I’ll be fine by the time we reach the dining room," he drawls.
"Oh." I blush a little, then walk up to him. "Why thirty-six?" Then answer it myself. “Because it’s a multiple of three?"
He stares at me strangely, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You see too much."
48
Harper
After that meeting, Margot joins us for dinner. Thankfully, not in the big dining room, but in a smaller family room adjoining the conservatory.
James leads me to a chair in the middle of the oval-shaped table and sits down next to me.
Tristan is seated next to me.
Phoenix and her husband Connor Davenport face me.
Gideon, Beckett and Briar take up the remaining seats.
Rowan had a work emergency and sent his apologies. As for Lachlan, he’s away on another trip with Doctors Without Borders. But my husband told me that he messaged, to say he was sorry he couldn’t make it.
When the waitstaff come by to fill up our water glasses, James takes the carafe from them and tops up my glass.
Margot finally takes her seat. That’s when the waitstaff begin to pour the wine. "Red or white madam?" one of them asks me.
"I’ll do it." My husband takes the bottle of white, looks at it, andshakes his head. "Not this one. Get the New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc; that’s what my wife likes."
My heart melts a little. He really has clocked what I like. It also makes me feel a little unbalanced. First, he’d apologized for Margot. Then, almost kissed me in his room. Now, this… It’s almost as if he cares for me.
Which he does. In his own way. Perhaps, I’ve always known that. But he’s actually showing it to me through actions. That’s something I didn’t think would ever happen. It’s what I yearned for all those years when I romanticized the thought of him as my dream man.
A sudden lump of emotion crowds my throat. I look away.
"Are you okay?" James murmurs.
"Very much." I take a sip of my water.
"He’s taking care of you?" Tristan nods in my husband’s direction.
"He’s definitely trying his best."
"It takes him a while to trust people." Tristan reaches for his glass of red wine.
"Is that how he was growing up, too?"
Tristan hesitates. "He was more open. More hopeful. Going into the Marines changed him."
"It’s why you didn’t want him to join?" I guess.
Tristan’s gaze darts to mine. "He told you that?"
