This is not how I saw my wedding night going.
“I’m sorry you have to do this,” I mumble.
Maybe it would have been better to call Charlie.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he tells me. “It’s a wedding dress. You can’t stay in it forever, and I promise I’m not looking.”
He focuses on unbuttoning again. “Okay, well, that might’ve been a lie. I do have to look a little bit.”
He finally reaches the end and then unclasps the back of my bra.
“Okay, I even got the clip that goes in the back too,” he says.
I’m not about to tell him that clip was not part of the dress. I hold the front of everything tight against me as I turn to face him. “Thank you.”
I’m too embarrassed to meet his gaze, and I can feel how hot my cheeks are. I wait for him to say something or comment on my reaction.
Instead, he turns around and walks to the kitchen, banging around in there. “I thought for sure I had some popcorn stashed away somewhere,” he says. “I’ll get some made while you get changed.”
“That sounds great,” I reply as I hurry down the hall toward my bedroom.
Apparently, I was the only one affected by how close we were.
By the time I get back out to the living room, he’s already started the reality show, and he’s eating handfuls of popcorn. All in all, it’s not a bad night.
CHAPTER 17
Bliss
The pantry is empty.How does someone end up with an empty pantry?
I guess by not grocery shopping.
We’ve been married a week. And technically, we’re home from our honeymoon and it’s safe to go out in public again.
“Zane!” I call as I walk out of the huge empty closet to the side of the kitchen.
“What?” He turns to look at me from where he’s reading the market reports on his laptop.
Glasses. He’s wearing glasses. Why didn’t I know he needed glasses? I snap my jaw closed because it wouldn’t be good to get caught drooling over my sexy husband.
“There’s no food in the pantry.”
His eyebrows shoot up at that. “Oh yeah. I forget to go grocery shopping sometimes. Don’t worry; I’ve got a freezer full of beef out in the garage.” He turns back to the computer as though he solved all our problems.
“We need more food than just beef.”
“I don’t see why,” he replies as he clicks around on the laptop and pulls up another market report.
“We can’t eat only beef. We need coffee too. We have to have a well-rounded diet.” I walk into the living room so that I can read over his shoulder. “Wait. Scroll down. I want to see what fat lambs sold for.”
He obliges me and scrolls down the page to where the sheep are listed. I have to lean closer to read the small type, which puts me close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Would you like to borrow my glasses?” he teases.
“Very funny,” I mutter. “Four fifty? They sold for four dollars and fifty cents a pound? Good grief, I can’t afford to eat my own lamb.”
“You’re telling me. Beef prices are still holding steadily high too.”
