My family has no idea what they’re dealing with.
A dangerous glitter of malice appears in Slade’s eyes.
He maneuvers me in front of him in one smooth motion, his arms coming around me, my back against his chest, and then his mouth finds my neck and every coherent thought I have dissolves all at once.
His stubble is a rough drag against my skin. His lips are warm. His arms are solid around me and I can feel every breath he takes. I lean into him before I’ve decided to, my hand coming up to close around his forearm.
Even though my brain is very aware that this is performance, my body hasn’t gotten the same memo.
Slade says, “Funny you say that, Pete.” The drawl is low and thicker than ever. His breath is warm against my skin, his heavy stubble a sensual rasp against my skin. “Truth is, we thought for a minute there I knocked Lila up.”
He kisses my neck as his hand splays against my ribcage. I suck in a breath as sensation courses through me.
“Sadly,” he says, “not this time. Working on it now, though. Day and night.” He slides that hand over my stomach and murmurs, still very much in earshot of everyone on screen, “You know I can’t wait to put a baby in you, darlin’.”
My whole body flusheshotly.
On screen, Celia’s wine glass is halfway to her mouth and freezes there. Peter looks like he’s swallowed his tie. My father is staring at a point somewhere above the camera like he’s asking God for patience.
“We’re very happy,” I manage.
Slade just keeps kissing up my neck. My breathing is turning shallow. My whole body feels like it’s on fire.
“Mr. Sherwood, Mrs. Sherwood,” Slade says, looking into the camera even as he kisses my neck. “Hope you wanted grandkids. Because we’re working on a whole hockey team’s worth, me and your daughter. We’re thinking at least five. Maybe six.”
“Six?” My mother goggles, openly appalled.
Slade smirks. “You know us country folk. Breeders. Big families. Big ranches to work. Hell, everything’s bigger out West.” He practically licks his lips as he looks down at me. “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”
My cheeks burn as his dark eyes gleam.
There’s the sound of glass breaking from the screen and I tear my eyes away from Slade to see Celia has accidentally knocked over her wine glass.
My mother purses her lips, but makes no comment. She’s no stranger to the mid-morning glass of wine herself.
Slade’s speech has stupefied every single member of my family. I have to roll my lips together to stop from bursting into giggles, even as my whole body is tingling from where he’s touching me.
“Aldrich,” Peter abruptly demands of the lawyer. “Is this legal? She’s a Sherwood. She can’t just marry some roughneck who picked her up off the side of the road.”
Aldrich shuffles papers nervously. “There’s no language in the trust describing a, er, required courtship period prior to marriage.”
“Oh, I’ve been courting Lila proper,” Slade drawls. Fingertips running up and down my arm. “Got a house ready for her to pretty up. Acres of land. We even got a dog. And I put a ring on it, of course.” He takes my left hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles, flashing my engagement ring for all of them to see.
My mother’s eyes widen just briefly at the sight of the massive rock on my finger, and then her mouth pinches. “Was something subtle and tasteful not an option? Not that you would have chosen it, I suppose.”
“I picked it, ma’am,” Slade interrupts. Though he’s speaking softly, it’s almost a growl. “And I picked the biggest damn diamond I could, because I want it to be visible from the fucking moon that my wife is taken.”
I have to stifle another burst of laughter. My family has spent generations perfecting the art of the cutting remark delivered with a smile. They have a whole arsenal of finely honed weapons: the pointed pause, the backhanded compliment, the question that isn’t really a question. They’ve been deploying all of it against me my whole life and I’ve never had anyone standing next to me absorbing the fire.
Let alone coming right back at them, guns blazing.
Until now.
Slade hasn’t even flinched. He’s taken their little barbs and stomped right over every single one, grinding them into dust.
Barrel of scorpions, meet cowboy boot.
“So anyway,” I say sweetly into the stunned silence. “Montana’s not too far away. Hope to see you all there,” I lie. “October fifteenth. I’ll send the address. Rent something with four wheel drive.”
