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“True.”
“I have a couple of outfits that look sexy with a tie. It’s mine. It’s pink. Not too many men wear bright pink ties.”
I check to make sure that he can’t see out of the tie by dancing around and acting goofy. When he doesn’t respond to my craziness, I smile and grab his hand. “Follow me.”
“I can’t see. You could be leading me to my death, and I wouldn’t know.”
I grin. “I could. I guess you will just have to trust me.”
I lead him out of my condo and start walking down the hallway to the elevators.
“You’re lucky I like fucking you,” he says as my older neighbors get off the elevator.
“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Shayfield,” I say as we pass them and walk into the elevator.
“Stop talking dirty, and just do as you’re told,” I say.
Asher grins. “Fine. But it’s my birthday. Aren’t you supposed to be doing what I tell you to do? Not the other way around?”
“No. You’re supposed to always do what I tell you. We are married, remember?” I joke with him.
He laughs. “Fine. I’ll do whatever you want as long as I—”
I put my hand on his mouth, shutting him up, as the doors to the elevator open on the bottom floor. As much as I want to hear him say more dirty, filthy things to me, I want to still be able to live in my building without being completely embarrassed.
I grab his hand and quickly lead him through the lobby of the building and outside.
“Okay, now, I really think you are going to try and kill me. Or push me into the ocean, ruining my only pair of shorts that aren’t swim trunks so that I will be forced to wear some suit or something that you have laid out for me upstairs.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You are wrong on both accounts.”
I keep leading him to my surprise.
“Then, what the hell are we doing?”
“Okay, stop.”
He does, just inches from falling off the curb of the sidewalk.
I grimace, hoping he’s not going to twist an ankle because of me. I grab his hips and force him to take a step backward.
“Are you ready for your surprise?” I ask excitedly.
He grins. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I pull on one end of the tie covering his head.
“Ow,” he says when the tie jerks his head back instead of coming undone, like I expected it to.
I giggle. “Sorry. Here, let me—”
“No. You had your chance.” He rips the tie off his eyes.
“Happy birthday!” I shout.
My eyes are glued to him as he looks at the brand-new truck I bought him for his birthday. It’s exactly the same as his truck, just completely redone inside and out.
His eyes pop open as he looks at it.
