Page 198 of Falling Offsides

“That didn’t sound like mom chat.” I look at him and he leans closer, taking the knife from my hand. “Court…”

“I’m an idiot.”

Auguste comes around the counter and tips my chin up. His eyes find mine, and I’m gone. Just like that.

“You are my love… my girl, my princess… you are not an idiot.”

I nod, then shake my head. “I called her to make sure she’s getting better and… and she just spoke about the house.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apparently I’m letting it come between us.” The sob I’ve been holding onto rips from me in a loud snort that warbles into manic laughter. “The house. The good memories are the problem.”

He leans in and presses a kiss to my temple. “Do you want to sell your half?”

I hesitate. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” He gives me that Auguste look that’s all intensity and softness wrapped in this hulking body of his. “If you want to keep thehouse, if you want to protect what it means to you, we’ll buy your mom’s half.”

My head snaps up. “What?”

“She’s going to sell it. So we buy it. We keep the memories. For us.” The earnestness in his voice kills me. “For our future. For our kids.”

The breath whooshes out of me. “Our?—”

“One day,” he says, brushing his knuckles over my cheek. “The good parts of your childhood? We’ll pass them on and we’ll fill every inch of the place with our memories. The best memories…”

I let out a watery laugh. “You’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

“If you said yes right now, we’d be on a jet to Vegas tonight. You’d have my name in a matter of hours and?—”

“I want a real wedding.” I grin, even as the tears threaten.

“Oh, yeah?”

“With slow dancing and dirty dancing and every kind of dancing with you.”

Auguste pulls his phone out and taps on a playlist. A slow, lazy beat flows from the speaker, thick as honey as he offers his hand and I take it.

“What are we doing?”

“Practicing.”

We dance, barefoot in the kitchen. My cheek against his chest. His hand warm on my waist.

“This is our first dance,” he murmurs. “And after this?”

I smile up at him. “You carry me to bed.”

He spins me slowly, pulls me in closer. “And I peel your dress off. Real slow. And then…”

“I’d get on my knees and worship every inch of my husband like he’s my religion.”

One move and I’m over Auguste’s shoulder. He carries me straight to the bedroom and tugs the apron loose before he peels his t-shirt off my body. Leaving me in just my soaked lace panties.

Auguste curses under his breath. “You’re killing me.”

“You started it.”