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AJ’s mouth dropped open. “That’s…”
“Surprising?” he supplied.
Not the norm for you to make personal plans for us, especially on a Friday night. Cord actually looked forward to Friday night football games with her and the kids. “Cord. What is going on?”
His too-blue gaze locked on hers. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she shot back.
“That. Right there. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. You’ve been downright pissy. Anytime I ask what’s wrong, you get snippy and snap that everything isfine.”
She looked away. “Oh yeah? I can’t remember the last time you asked me what was wrong.”
That shut him up. Briefly. “I don’t think your memory is as reliable as you seem to believe.”
AJ knocked back another drink. “So what is this? Some kind of anger management intervention?”
“Should it be? ’Cause darlin’, you literally threw my lunch at me this morning.”
AJ felt a wash of shame again, remembering tearing out of the house after he’d so pointedly ignored her, whipping the soft-sided lunch bag at him and yelling, “Have a nice day, asshole.” But she doubled down on her pettiness and retorted, “I’m not sorry.”
“I know you’re not. Still confused about why you shoutedwoof woofbefore storming off.”
Oh. She’d forgotten about that last dig. “Speaking of…where is your faithful sidekick?”
“Chichi is tucked in for the night. Which is why it’s just you and me, workin’ through this mad of yours, without interruptions.”
Her heart rate spiked with hope.
“It’s been too goddamned long since we’ve been completely alone for more than an hour or two. And I’m truly sorry about that. Goin’ forward, I’ll pay better mind to it. The kids will be back tomorrow at noon. So the night is ours. The morning too.”
AJ stared into her glass as she swirled the last of the whiskey around the ice cube. “What happens next?”
“That, my beautiful wife, is entirely up to you.”
She glanced over as Cord dropped a folded piece of fabric on the table, followed by a white sheet of paper. “What’s that?”
“Your choices on how we spend our time together.” He lifted the blank page. “Option one: you choose. Could be a traditionaldate night. We get dressed up, have a nice dinner in Deadwood. Maybe do some dancin’. Whatever you want. You call the shots.”
“And that option?”
Cord smirked at her and picked up the black bandana, running the folded section between his fingers. “This is a blindfold. You put your blind faith in me andIcall all the shots.”
For a panicked moment, she studied him. Had he somehow gotten wind of her conversation with Ainsley?
No, it’d definitely been the speedball—aka the lunch—she’d thrown him that’d convinced him to take action.
He dropped his feet to the decking and stood. Then he planted himself in front of her, his hands on the arms of the chair, lowering his upper body until they were face to face. “I’m gonna lobby on my own behalf for you to choose option two.” Cord rubbed the smooth part of his upper cheek across hers. “Please.”
The scent of him…she closed her eyes. Lime shaving cream. Laundry detergent from his clean T-shirt. Sun-warmed skin. A hint of whiskey. And that heady, underlying musk that was his alone.
Then his lips were at her ear. “I wanna get us back where we need to be, baby doll. Here, in our own house, where we’re the most comfortable bein’ ourselves.” He lightly tugged her earlobe between his teeth until she groaned. “You’ve got three minutes to decide.” He pushed away from her and started for the front door.
“But—”
He paused and sent her a stern look over his shoulder. “That’s two.”
AJ had forgotten how his little counting game affected her: maddening and enticing.
