I snap my gaze to his face. Luckily, he’s focused on scooping ice cream and didn’t notice my perusal. “It’s fine. Your parents were…” How do I finish this sentence?Overbearing? Terrifying? Delusional? Way too up in my business?“...nice.”
Hess laughs, glancing up at me. “Too nice.”
“They seemed to take the news of our marriage well.”
“It was rough at first, but you saw the aftermath of where they landed. To them, you’re officially a daughter-in-law now.”
My side pinches uncomfortably, and I press just above my hip to relieve the pain. “I’m not?—”
“Relax.” He smiles in his easy, kind way that I can now say reminds me of his mother. “This isn’t a real marriage. I’m not getting any ideas.”
“Oh, good.” My chest falls with relief.
He rests against the counter, holding his bowl as he eats. Has there ever been a more attractive picture of man than Hess with his ankles crossed, casually leaning back, hair mussed, arm muscles moving and twisting every time he brings the spoon to his mouth? I think not.
And this isn’t even a cowboy fantasy.
This is regular Hess.
A nice guy, eating a late-night snack in his kitchen.
“So I’ve been waiting for your slide presentation,” he says with a smirk.
“Oh.” I shift uncomfortably. “I’m not making one of those.”
“Yes, you are. I made one.”
“Weeks ago.”
“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for your response for a while. Thanks for making my point for me.”
“Nobody asked you to send me Google Slides.”
“Our marriage counselor did.” He grins.
“No, she didn’t.”
“In a way, she did. But you’re failing our homework. I still have a lot of questions about you that I need answers to.”
“You don’tneedanswers.”
“I want to know my wife.” The freaked-out look on my face forces him to rephrase. “I want to know so I’m not embarrassed when we meet with Abby again.”
“I told you some stuff.” I stand and walk to the sink, rinsing out my empty bowl. “That’s enough for the counselor, don’t you think?”
I open the dishwasher and lean over to place the bowl and spoon inside. When I come back up, Hess is standing next to meat the sink. He smells incredible, like fresh soap on steroids. His bare arm brushes against mine as he turns on the faucet, sending a force of chills down my skin.
“This is why you get bored in relationships,” he says as he washes his bowl. “Because you don’t open up and let anyone in.”
My brows drop. “Are you suddenly our marriage counselor?”
His face turns to me, and despite the height difference, our lips feel incredibly close. I step back a little, but my calves hit the open dishwasher behind me.
I’m trapped.
There’s nothing to do but watch the charming way the corner of his mouth lifts into a sincere smile.
“I’m just a guy trying to get to know you.”
