I sip carefully, trying to ignore the occasional graze of his fingers on my bare skin over the back of my sundress.
I look up into hunter green eyes. “Raven would definitely have a tittie attack. I might have to try that one.”
“You okay?”
I nod. “I’m fine, Ellis. Wrong pipe. All good. Thanks, husband,” I joke and smile.
A storm of emotions rush through his gaze. He nods, dropping his hand from my back and clearing his plate.
“We should probably discuss expectations. What new normal are we working toward?” I ask, turning in my seat, waiting for him to come around from the kitchen.
He takes a minute.
“As far as myself,” he starts, still in the kitchen where I can’t see him. “No expectations. We’re married in name only. The only reason I let Deke convince me to do this crazy ass idea is for Olive.”
“Deke?”
“Uh, yeah,” he says, coming into view with another piece of pie. Seeing him sit to enjoy another slice has my gut doing a happy dance.
“Questionable, but my best friend is back in Wild Peak. We all grew up together. He was the best man at my wedding.”
“Does he visit?” I ask, continuing to eat my first piece.
“Been a while,” he says around a bite. “He plans to be here in a couple of weeks for Olive’s birthday.”
“Oh! When’s Olive’s birthday? She’s turning six, right?”
My mind races with ideas for decoration and themes, and a cake I can bake.
“The fourth and yes, six. Crazy,” he shakes his head. “How the hell does time turn so fast?”
“Can…,” suddenly nervous, “I help plan it with you? I mean, I’m sure you already have maybe ideas on what?—”
“Iris?”
“Yeah,” I stop rambling. He’s only said my name a couple times, and every time it sets off a cascade of warm tingles dancing in my chest.
“I’d love your help,” he says sincerely. “Honestly, I haven’t been able to do much yet. I work long hours. Again, why I needed to do this. I don’t want Olive bouncing around houses and babysitters for years to come. She deserves better than that.”
Iris, don’t you dare fall for your husband.
“You’re a wonderful father, Ellis Michaels.”
Oh, that’s a new look. Beautiful, soft, and peaceful.
“Thank you, Iris…Clarke.”
I grin. “Michaels. Iris Michaels.”
Whoa.
Why does that look he’s giving me now awaken heat I can’t remember the last time I gave attention to?
“Iris Michaels,” he repeats, and my heart races.
“Hello there, Miss Olive,”I greet this adorable girl at the door. “Hi, I’m Iris.” I extend my hand to the colorfully dressed older black woman.
“Well, aren’t you beautiful? Harriet Lawrence. But everyone calls me Mrs. Harriet. A pleasure to meet the new Mrs. Michaels.”
