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CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

FORD

I might have trouble reading social situations, but I’m 95% sure Amber wanted me to kiss her. Actually, I’m 99% sure.

The happiness in her eyes when I arrived home earlier today about made my heart burst. And then seeing Nella was equally happy to see me? The best feeling in the whole world. Arriving home after an away stint has always been comforting to me, being in my own home, my own bed, taking a shower in my waterfall steam shower. I’m most comfortable in my own space.

But this was different. This was special. Coming home to my girls was inexplicably wonderful.

Farrah made a delicious dinner for us all—beef enchiladas, and a homemade two-layer, vanilla cake for dessert. Her cooking is impeccable, as always. And the company is great. But all I want to do is crawl in bed beside Amber and get the first restful night of sleep in a week.

The first few nights Amber slept in my bed, I slept like a rock. I thought it was due to how busy and tiring things had been, but once I was in a hotel room alone on the road, I realized it was all Amber. She’s like a comforting bedtime story as a child, but the grown-up version.

Amber went upstairs to nurse Nella and put her to bed for the night, so it’s just me, Mom and Farrah left at the dining room table. I can tell my house has been full of women because there’s a nice tablecloth covering my table, with the bouquet of roses I sent Amber in the center with two of my favorite Sweet Tobacco candles I had in a storage cabinet in the utility room.

I’m minding my own business, totally at peace, popping the last bite of an enchilada in my gullet when Mom pipes up with words that make me internally cringe.

“Let’s stay up and play a board game!”

You know that meme from The Office where Michael Scott is screaming no ? That’s where my brain is. I stare at my mother, and she stares back, eyes narrowing.

“I know board games aren’t your favorite, but we’ve barely gotten to see you since we’ve been here. How about a game of cards instead?”

One of my eyebrows arches. She knows I don’t like card games any better. But she and Farrah have been here all week helping Amber, so how can I say no?

I clear my throat, plastering a smile on my face. “Yeah, sure.”

Farrah chuckles. “He probably wants to spend time with his wife, Mom.”

I offer her a silent look of thanks. Because that’s exactly what I want to do.

“Okay, I get it.” Mom smiles. “No card games tonight.”

Amber chooses that moment to enter the room. “Did somebody say card games?”

I stare blankly into the distance. The very woman I want to be alone with is ruining my chances of being alone with her. Perhaps my 99% certainty that she wanted me to kiss her was a little overly confident.

My mother’s face lights up. “Do you like cards?”

“I love Uno!” Amber takes her seat beside me. She glances at me once she’s seated and wrinkles her nose. Probably because my inner turmoil is broadcasted across my face.

“You okay?” she whispers, leaning close to my ear, so close I can smell her hair. I close my eyes and allow myself to revel in her nearness.

“Yes,” I croak, my voice sounding as unsure as I feel. Surprisingly, I actually have a set of Uno cards. They’re the collector’s NHL version that Coach Young gave all of us for Christmas a few years ago, and I’ve never opened them. I’m not much of a frivolous game player.

Begrudgingly, I scoot my chair back and head toward the drawer where I keep the unopened deck in.

When I bring them back to the table and sit down, Amber shoots me an amused glance.

“You’ve never opened them.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Nope.”

Mom takes the package from my hands and opens it, shuffling the large deck, then dealing each of us six cards.

Farrah organizes her cards in her hands then gasps. “Ford is on the reverse card!”

“You’re kidding!” Amber squeals, riffling through her own cards to see if she has a Ford Remington reverse card.

I roll my eyes when Mom gasps. “I have one too! Oh Ford, this is too cool.”

You know what would be cool? Lying in bed beside my wife as I try to count her freckles and stare into my favorite pair of vibrant green eyes .

Glancing at the clock on the stove, I see it’s only seven and hold in another groan.

Two hours later, I’m finally following Amber upstairs to bed. As soon as the door clicks shut behind us, I remember that Mom and Farrah will leave next week. Amber and I will no longer need to sleep in the same room.

The thought makes me deflate, all illusions of romance shattered. Amber is sleeping with me because it’s a necessity, an act. Even if she looked at me earlier like she wanted a kiss, that doesn’t make this marriage real. Maybe that was her pretending to be my adoring wife.

Amber takes her pajamas from one of the dresser drawers I cleared out for her. Three drawers. Just for her. I don’t want to put my stuff back inside those drawers. I’m not sure I can bear it. Maybe I’ll just leave them empty once she moves out of my room. Or maybe I’ll just keep clearing out more drawers and see if she stays and keeps filling the drawers with her things.

With a smile I can only describe as shy, she walks past me and into the master bathroom. While she’s in there, I hang up the suit I never changed out of and slip on a fresh pair of boxer briefs. I glance at myself in the large mirror that takes up a wall of my closet. I’m fit, abs on point—despite having eaten my weight in cake and enchiladas earlier. My haircut still looks decent too, and although my eyes look tired from traveling and not sleeping well, I’d say I look good. Conventionally attractive, even.

Staring at my physique, I make sure my small hip tattoo is covered, it is. And I silently contemplate going to bed shirtless tonight. Maybe then she’d look at me like something more than a best friend. Maybe she’d want to trail her hands across my pectorals…or rub my back, which is also very muscular. I’ve heard women like muscles.

I wouldn’t know from personal experience, since Amber is the only woman I’ve allowed this close to me. Something I’ve never told anyone—that not a single woman has ever been in my bed before Amber. And I like it that way.

I look myself over once more and lose my confidence, throwing a black tee over my torso and stomping out of the closet.

“You okay?” Amber’s sweet voice draws my gaze toward the bed. She’s sitting at the foot of the bed with one leg folded beneath her, her nightgown hiked up to expose the creamy freckled skin of her thigh.

Interesting. Since moving into my room, she’s worn pajama pants and tank tops instead of her little nightgowns. Maybe her other pajamas are dirty. Yeah, that’s probably it.

The thought of Amber’s pajamas leads my brain down a rabbit hole, and suddenly I remember the lingerie in the glossy bag that I stuck inside my closet when I got home earlier. I hid it behind a box of skates Bauer Hockey sent me and I haven’t used yet.

My eyes scan Amber from her toes, painted a pretty pink, to her red hair, which she put up in a messy bun while she was in the bathroom changing. A few curled pieces look like they’ve fallen out of the bun and now dance gracefully around her face, almost on purpose.

I allow the devil on my shoulder to win this one, and picture her in the silky, low-cut black teddy that’s currently stashed behind my skates. There’s no way in this world that she wouldn’t look even better in the black silk than the mannequin did, with her soft curves, made softer with motherhood, and her vibrant red hair standing out against the black fabric .

I shiver, and Amber notices. “You’re cold.”

Wordlessly, I walk to the bed and sit down next to her. The mattress shifts with my weight, and she slides into me. She catches herself with her hands on my chest, and I regret my choice to put a shirt on. What I wouldn’t give to feel her hands on my bare skin.

With a hand on her back, I steady her, and she looks up at me with those shiny green eyes, unique to this woman alone. Never have I seen another set of green eyes so bright. Sometimes I think I might be able to see right through them.

Her warm skin warms my hand, even through the cotton fabric of her nightgown, making heat trickle from my hand and into the rest of my body. Touching her is like getting into your car on a hot summer day in Virginia—so hot you don’t know how you’ll ever cool down again.

Her hands don’t move from my chest, and her eyes hold mine. I swallow, and my throat feels thick with the motion because she’s looking at me like she did in the garage earlier…like she wants me to kiss her.

No, devour her.

But this time, there’s no audience around to watch. No show to put on. It’s just her and me, and we’ve never allowed ourselves to be this close, to look at each other so intensely.

“Earlier,” she whispers, so quiet it’s barely audible. “In the garage…I thought you might?—”

“Kiss you?” I finish her sentence.

She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, and my eyes track the movement. Amber pauses for a second before tilting her chin up like she did earlier. A movement so subtle I thought my eyes were tricking me then, and I wonder again now. This time, she closes her eyes.

For a moment, I miss the green color that has always made my heart race, but then her beautiful lips part and I realize this is an invitation. An invitation to enjoy each other in a new way. An invitation to change our friendship forever.

Because there’s no going back after this.

If I choose to accept this kiss.

And that’s when I realize I’m a very, very selfish man. Because I want this kiss, no matter the cost.

Leaning forward, I brush my mouth against hers, testing the water, seeing what lies beneath. Amber inhales a sharp breath with the contact, but keeps her eyes shut tight like she’s dreaming.

There’s something about her closing her eyes and allowing me to control the kiss that makes this even hotter. Because I think we both know I’m not experienced, and yet, she trusts me completely.

And Amber’s trust in me makes me almost as hot as thinking about that teddy in the closet. Okay, not quite that hot.

I brush my lips against hers one more time before fully pressing my lips against hers, craving the pressure of her mouth. She meets the movement and gently pulls my bottom lip into her mouth. The groan I’ve been holding in all evening finally releases, and I feel Amber smiling against my lips.

She pulls back slightly, and I think she’s ending the kiss, but instead she tenderly runs the tip of her nose down the center of mine. It’s not something I’d ever imagined being sexy, but it’s so sweet, so intimate. Coming from anyone else I might not think so, but from this woman? I’d let her nuzzle my nose all night.

Amber moves down to my lips again, doing that thing where she tugs on my bottom lip. She’s exploring my mouth with hers, and then her hands begin exploring as well. Yeah, the shirt was a really stupid idea.

She slides her hands up my chest and then my neck, bringing them to rest on the sides of my face, her thumbs softly grazing my jaw on both sides. One hand pulls away, and I feel the tip of her fingers dip into the dimple on my chin.

I chuckle against her mouth. The sound is raspy, almost unrecognizable to my own ears. Nothing like my usual laugh. But I can’t even think clearly, with all the things she’s doing with her mouth, and her hands. Speaking of her hands, they’re dragging back down my pecs now, and I’m relishing the touch. I flex my abdominal muscles, wanting to impress her.

“Can I ask you to take your shirt off without sounding like a fan girl?” Amber whispers, her hands stopping right on the hem of my shirt.

I grin at her, pulling away just enough to grab the back of my tee and yank it over my head. It lands somewhere on my bedroom floor.

She studies my chest unabashedly before lacing her arms around my waist, and resting her head on my chest. I wrap one arm around her, and with the other, I run the backs of my fingers along the impossibly soft skin of her arm. To my delight, her skin breaks into goosebumps beneath my caress.

Tonight, I kissed a woman…and not just any woman.

The woman.

My wife.