Ellis leans one arm on the sink’s edge, his body leans toward mine as I rest my back against the counter.
“I know I…kind of disappeared today on you.”
I shake my head. “I think space to process is absolutely warranted given our situation.”
Those deep green eyes stare. “You really have seen a lot of life, no matter your age.”
“Why do you say that?” I say…or whisper?
Are our faces closer than before?
“Every time you speak, your wisdom, awareness, perspective on things…it surprises me greatly.”
A fresh hit of pine, warm honey, and sandalwood overtakes my next inhale. My eyes flutter at the same scent that instantly takes me back to the courthouse…and our very unexpected first kiss.
I didn’t expect the kiss. I knew he wanted an out. I tried to give it to him but something changed in his eyes. They were more alert. Determined.
I’ve kissed four men in my life.
None stopped time or enveloped my senses like my fifth first kiss with Ellis Michaels. My new husband.
“Daddy?” Olive’s voice calls from upstairs.
Both of us jolt apart. Holy shit, I think I was leaning in to kiss him again. Or was he leaning in?
Without saying a word, Ellis briskly leaves the kitchen and marches upstairs.
The moment he’s out of sight, my entire body exhales.
It is literally day one. How the hell am I falling for my husband already?
Chapter Five
ELLIS
“Ellis, can you bring over the Rice Krispies paintbrushes, please?” Iris calls from the living room.
“I’m assuming those are the marshmallow squares dipped in different colors?”
Her husky laughter continues to do things that, for the last two weeks, I have refused to acknowledge.
“I know Mrs. Harriet has shown you what a paintbrush looks like, husband.”
I close my eyes and breathe through my dick getting hard. Another battle—her calling me husband almost as an endearment.
“Got it,” I call out, my voice deeper than a moment ago.
The living room and the backyard have been completely transformed. Iris with a theme is a dangerous thing to behold. When asked, Olive declared she wanted an art studio theme. Only my daughter. And Mrs. Harriet’s clear influence.
Iris took over everything, from getting decorations, making some of them, and baking all the treats, to cooking all the food. And I have to say, I am damn impressed with the things she came up with. Olive is going to lose her shit.
“ETA?” Iris distractedly asks as she arranges the paint palette cookies next to the juices that look like various colors of paint water.
“I told Mrs. Harriet I’d text her in an hour.”
“Okay,” she nods, hands on hips, assessing everything. “You think she’ll like everything?”
“Hey,” I say gently to get her attention.
