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What, you’re on a vacation and you didn’t take me with you?
I’m taking a solo vacation,I tell her.
Since when do you take any vacations?she questions.
I chuckle. She knows me so well.I know. It was a last-minute thing but the beach house is really nice.
You bet your ass. I want more pictures, and video too!
I agree to her demands and then put my phone away. And then I do a walk thru of the whole house. There’s lots of glass all over and jaw-dropping views from every spot in the entire downstairs. It’s a very contemporary house with white walls and lots of enormous windows. But I appreciate how the decorations seem to be a little bit eclectic like there are paintings on the wall with color. The furniture doesn’t look all hard and metal, there’s wood and soft, plush pillows. The color scheme does seem to be mainly white with a lot of cool blues and greens. It’s just a beautiful, comfortable beachy feel.
The kitchen, dining area, and the living room all face the front with the ocean view. And upstairs I bet the primary bedroom does the same thing, maybe with its own deck too.
I open the door and step out onto the long front deck. And now I wish I had shoes because I can see and hear the ocean. The morning fog has burned away and the day is clear and bright. Birds caw overhead and I can hear the waves crashing on the beach. There’s a light, pleasant ocean breeze. A pathway off our entry road leads right to the beach that I can clearly see over the rise of hills. Then there’s ocean off to the horizon.
I could literally walk onto the beach right now if I had shoes on and if I was maybe dressed in actual clothing. I can’t even see another house. It’s so quiet. All I can hear is the wind and the ocean. The deck includes a dining table and lots of comfortable seating. I’ll be out here a lot.
I go back inside and start looking around in the kitchen for the coffee maker. I find a Keurig and a variety of pods, one of which I like. And there’s even almond milk in the fridge, which is nice. I’m a vegetarian. I hope that’s gonna work out between the two of us. I also eat gluten free, this might bother him too.
While I wait for my coffee I pull out my table, mainly out of habit.
Yes, I think he’s swoon-worthy.
Oh, who am I kidding? Being married to Mr. Tusk sounds amazing.
Mr. Tusk is so sexy, I’m literally tongue-tied around him. I did better speaking to him with our correspondence because there were clear boundaries. I like learning from him. He’s very clear-cut on what he will or won’t allow. He gives clear directives and expects compliance. He never, not once, said anything harsh or demeaning to me, despite the fact that I knew I was one of the first humans he’d worked with.
I know his entire schedule, which means I also know he’s got meetings today. I sit and get to work, canceling all his appointments for this next week.
“Camila?”
My stomach swoops pleasantly at the sound of his voice. I turn around and see my boss…my new husband…standing in the kitchen with sleepy, blazing red, bedroom eyes. He’s only wearing black pajama pants, that are clearly tented at the crotch. And his tusks are again elongated and curving down over his lower lip almost to the end of his chin.
This man is sex on a stick.
Yes, I think he’s swoon-worthy.
Oh, who am I kidding? Being married to Mr. Tusk sounds amazing.
I set down the tablet. “I canceled everything for the rest of this week.”
“Good. I am not fit company. I am unable to work for the next two weeks. We will spend this time bonding and creating our offspring.”
I bite my lip. “Mr. Tusk, we need to talk.”
His brow furrows and he moves in close. “What is wrong, Camila? Why did you call me by my formal name, as your employer? We spoke of this last night. I am no longer your employer. You are not my assistant, although I appreciate you thinking ahead and clearing my schedule. But you did that for the both of us so we could spend more time together. We are no longer employer and employee, we are instead mates.”
“I know you explained everything to me last night, but this morning I’m still worried.”
“What is there to be worried about?”
“How can I so quickly stop thinking of you as my boss?”
“I’m able to stop thinking of you as my assistant. It was easy.”
I’m having trouble concentrating because that hairy chest and his tented pajamas are so close and I’m already hot and bothered. “That’s because you’re rich and famous.”
“Is the real problem that you are concerned that we are not a good match? This is not true. Voltare matches have one hundred percent viability. The pheromones are never wrong.”
