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Two little words in that deep voice, and I know exactly who it is. Exhilaration ripples inside me. I toss on the Sheridan House robe and throw open the door. Then I realize maybe I should’ve glanced in the mirror, combed my hair, or brushed my teeth before greeting the man I love to kiss.
Slade’s gaze roves lazily up and down my fluffy-robe-encased body. “Dang, you’re adorable when you’ve just woken up.”
I run my hands over my hair in an attempt to tame the spoils of a hard sleep. “Am I the Bride of Frankenstein again?”
“Not even close.”
“I missed breakfast,” I moan, covering my face with my hands. “I overslept.”
“No worries. I know the cook. I bet he’ll make you whatever your heart desires.” His smile is as intimate as his kisses were last night.
I’m instantly wide awake. “I have a lifetime of your breakfasts to look forward to.” I gasp when I realize what I just said. I cover my mouth, making sure it won’t blurt out another faux pas. Where is my self-control?
Something intense flares in Slade’s eyes. “My dear Marin, was that a Freudian slip?”
“Um, can I plead the fifth?”
“Um, can I come in? I need to talk to you.” His grin is downright smug. He has me, and he knows it. That’s okay. It’s not a secret. I’m crazy about him.
I move over and motion with my hand, silently inviting him to enter. “Give me five minutes in the bathroom.”
Ten minutes later (okay, fifteen), I exit the bathroom, dressed and fresh as a spring morning. Minty breath and all.
“Hmm. I miss sleepy Marin.”
“Sorry. You will not be allowed to see her again.”
“If I’m making breakfast for her every morning of my life, I sure will be.” Slade takes me in his arms and hugs me tight.
I bite my lip as I hide an unending grin. I wonder if future possibilities are going crazy in his mind like they are in mine.
I decide it’s time to change the subject. We’re getting ahead of ourselves. “Sorry I wasn’t there to help this morning,” I mumble against his chest.
“I’m not. You’re still on vacation, and I want you to stay that way.” He kisses the top of my head.
“What about cleaning the rooms?”
“Tate has it all under control. No worries, Marin. I got this.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I need to talk to you about something. You might think I’m crazy, but I’m totally serious.”
I back up so I can look into his face. “Should I be scared?”
“Maybe. Kind of. Yes.”
“Was that a multiple-choice answer?” I tease.
Slade taps my lips with his index finger. “Life will never be boring with you.”
I kiss his finger. “What do you want to talk to me about?” Getting married? Having children? The things that will happen between us before he makes breakfast every morning? All of the above?
My imagination is so naughty. I’m definitely getting coal in my stocking this year.
“Have a seat,” he invites.
If I need to be sitting, this can’t be a good conversation. “Have a seatis always what people say before they deliver bad news.” Maybe so the person receiving the bad news doesn’t have as far to fall when they faint.
“It’s not bad. No worries.”
We both sit at the small dining table and chairs, the same place we sat late last night as we read Matteo’s romantic letters. I’m still feeling a bit swoony, like his amorous words are lingering in the air.
