As we climbed the porch steps, she said, “And just so you know, I don’t currently possess the interpersonal skills necessary to date.” She glanced over at me, her eyes weary. “I just want to go places and have fun once in a while. I want to feel like myself again.”
“What part of you doesn’t feel like yourself?”
She opened the front door and kicked off her shoes but didn’t bother switching on any lights. “The part that sits alone in this house every night and tries to figure out who I am now. The part that wants to know why I’m so easy to leave behind.”
“Then you’re finished sitting here alone,” I said. “You know where to find me and Gennie. Get your ass up the hill unless you want us parking ourselves down here. Don’t think we won’t.”
“You say that now but just wait until you’re scowling at me across the table and then hustling me out the door when you’ve had enough of me,” she said. “And he’s with the girls’ volleyball coach, I think. Itwasn’ta date.”
I brought both hands to her waist as I followed her up the main staircase. I was guilty of the scowling. That one was on me. I hadn’t realized I was so transparent when it came to my inability to be that close to her for that long without wanting to drag her into the pantry and shove my hand between her legs.
“You don’t have to worry about me dating anyone,” she added. “That won’t be happening for a long time. If ever again. I mean, I know we’re notreallymarried but—”
“I still don’t want my wife getting stranded in dive bars,” I interrupted. “I don’t want you in situations where your safety and security are in the hands of a lacrosse coach.”
“I was perfectly safe and secure,” she said, pushing open a door at the far end of the hallway. “I mean, we’re in the middle of nowhere. What’s the worst that could happen to me at some no-name bar with a bunch of teachers?”
I pressed my fingers to my brow with a groan. “Don’t make me answer that.”
Again, she left the lights off but moonlight spilled over an old, heavy bed, revealing a tangle of sheets and blankets. She shrugged out of the jean jacket and tossed it in the general direction of a wingback chair in the corner.
“You’re saying I’m not allowed to go out with some teachers after school? Is that really your bottom line?”
Shuffling toward an antique bureau, she tipped her head to the side as she removed her earrings. Though they were just earrings, there was something profoundly intimate about watching her peel back these layers of her day. It was a ritual I’d never before considered and now I knew it, right down to the way she rubbed each lobe between the pads of her thumb and forefinger once the earrings were stowed away.
As if I needed more intimacy than standing in her bedroom with her late at night. I closed my hands around the footboard of the bed to keep from taking her into my arms. She’d be flat on the mattress within ten seconds if I did that. Moaning in a minute. Hanging on to that headboard and crying out to the heavens in five.
“I’m saying surround yourself with better people,” I ground out. This headache was going to crack my skull right down the middle. “You knew this coach was all wrong and you went anyway. Stop doing that shit.”
Shay stepped behind an open closet door and returned a moment later in loose sweatpants and a tank top that gave me more information about the shape and texture of her nipples than I was equipped to receive.
“You’ll call me the next time you need a night on the town.” I gripped the footboard harder. She stared at me, her hands on her hips. I pointed to the messy bed. “Let’s go. Under the covers. I’ll pick you up and put you there myself if I have to.”
She blinked at me for a second. Then, “Don’t you dare.”
The only thing I heard was an invitation. I strode forward, locked my arms around her thighs, and tossed her over my shoulder. “I provided you with adequate warning.”
“What are you doing?” she yelled.
I tossed her on the bed and pinned my hands on either side of her head. Leaning in close, I said, “Allow me to make myself clear. I don’t give a pickled fuck how or why we came to be married. You are my wife. If you need some fun, you’ll call me. I’ll be the one taking care of you. I’ll give you anything you want, including a properly prepared gin and tonic. If you can’t accept that, you’re welcome to divorce me now.”
She reached up and ran her fingers through my beard. I felt her touch in every inch of my body. “When did you get so bossy?” she whispered. “When did that happen? And it’s not just tonight although you are slathering it on extra thick.”
If that hand moved even an inch, nothing could stop me from kissing her. If she gave me that tiny sign, it was all over. “Right around the time I became the boss.”
She gave several slow, heavy blinks, her lips parted and her eyes hazy. “Gail’s probably wondering where you are.”
“Gail’s probably asleep on the sofa.”
She dropped her hand, cut her gaze to the side. “I’m sorry I dragged you out so late. You should go. I’m fine. I’m not going to get into any trouble here.”
I curled my fingers around the bedsheets, allowing myself this one moment before I walked away and into an hourlong cold shower that would do absolutely nothing to block out the image of Shay tucked into her bed. I’d never forget. And how could I? Now I knew how her hair fanned out across the pillow, how the strap of her tank top slipped down her shoulder, how her eyes seemed darker when set against miles of white blankets. And I knew it not because she wanted me watching her strip away the day and settle into herself, but because some dick waffle left her at a bar.
“I don’t care if it’s bossy and I don’t care if you like it.” I stepped back and fisted my hands. “Those are my conditions. As I said, divorce me.”
chapterseventeen
Shay
