Page 30 of Marriage is a Shore Thing (Wilks Beach #2)

twenty-nine

Geneva

“You’re sure about this,” Van asks, blinking. He looks about as stunned as when I’d knocked the wind out of him in Vegas.

I roll my eyes, leaning on my crutch though my ankle feels much better than it did yesterday.

It might have something to do with the incredible night’s sleep I received being wrapped in Van’s strong arms. Even with the activity of crutch-walking into the store, it doesn’t throb that bad.

Outside, I politely—okay, firmly—refused Van’s offer to carry me from the car.

Though it’s quickly become my favorite household activity, it felt weird on the mainland.

“Yes.”

“If you really mean it, then I’m going to kiss you in public.”

I tense. Though we’ve let Brynn and Noah know that this—whatever this is—isn’t fake anymore, we’ve kept all large displays of affection securely tethered to the house.

My chin lifts. “You wouldn’t dare.”

The slow way Van shakes his head as he pushes into my space makes my pulse race. Warmth explodes over my collarbones, in the pit of my stomach, and slips down my legs. He stops with his lips mere inches from mine, his gaze mischievous.

“Wouldn’t I?”

“Evander,” I caution, trying to gain some control when my body is ready to go all limp-noodle on me. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I never liked the way my full name sounded before, but—” He breaks off with a curse, rubbing his mouth with the knuckles. “It’s like a song from your lips.”

A startled exhale escapes me, not knowing how to respond. I always have a comeback, a quip, but Van has taken my brain, put it in the microwave for 47 seconds, and rendered me useless.

I should hate it.

I definitely don’t.

“Am I kissing you, darlin’?”

My eyes dart to the paint swatch display, the myriad of colors taunting me. This is the reason we’re here after all—to tell him that I changed my mind about the exterior paint color.

“Why do you care so much about this? It’s just paint,” I say, crossing my arms as best I can while using the crutch.

As predicted, Van is delighted by my grumpy question. “You know why.”

I think I might know, but I’m not quite ready to admit it to myself.

I’m not quite ready for a lot of things—to fully flesh out what’s between Van and me, to own up to the fact that he’s my favorite person to talk to, to acknowledge that just being near him lowers my blood pressure.

If I don’t work through these thoughts, I don’t have to focus on what I’ll do when our agreed-upon time is up.

Denial is a strategy I mastered early. High heels don’t hurt that bad. Shapewear isn’t suffocating. My muscles aren’t exhausted after an hour on the bag. My good friend, denial, has yet to steer me wrong, so I’m betting it won’t this time either.

“A quick peck on the cheek. That’s it.”

When he leans close, his lips over the shell of my ear, liquid fire shoots through my veins. “As always…” My eyelashes flutter when his warm breath skirts over my cheekbone. “I’ll take what I can get.”

I don’t notice when Van takes my crutch and leans it against the display, because I’m distracted by the featherlight brush of his lips over my skin.

So when he grips my waist to lift me in a Disney princess twirl, I burst into laughter—that is, until my swinging feet nearly clip a toddler running down the aisle.

“Sorry,” I tell the mom as she chases after him.

“Next, you’ll be telling me that you want to go to puzzle night at the library,” Van says, vibrating with excitement as he gently returns me to the ground.

Last night, Finn informed us that the community survey results were in and that the library would be hosting a community puzzling night and puzzle swap on Wednesday evenings.

“Actually…” I had been thinking that we should make a few more town appearances as a couple. For Joanna’s sake. Not because I want to see how fast it takes Van’s genius brain to decipher a thousand-piece puzzle.

His mouth breaks into that unabashed, wholesome smile. “You keep surprising me. Okay, we’ll do puzzles tonight, and in the meantime, we can paint the house.”

I assumed Van would be excited that I decided to choose something other than gray for my exterior paint, but more in a he-won-a-challenge kind of way. His genuine wholehearted support makes my chest ache.

“It’s too wet after last night’s storm. Plus, there’s another tropical storm forecasted in a few days. We’ll have to wait until it’s reliably dry. Probably next week or the week after.”

It shouldn’t be attractive to see a grown man pout, but when that man’s callused hands simultaneously squeeze the sliver of skin left open from your cropped tank, all the wires get jumbled. Almost as quickly as disappointment slipped over his defined cheekbones, Van brightens.

“Hotties, then?”

My sweet golden retriever, always finding the bright side.

“I’m down for wings, but it’s a little early.” I hesitate, biting my lip. “I had another errand I thought we could run first.”

Van waits, patient as ever as I garner the courage to say the next part.

I’ve never needed a second opinion on anything, but the more I thought about this, the more I wanted Van to give me his.

And just like the paint color, I have a hunch that it’ll make that dimpled smile light his face.

It’s addicting—that smile. Since my ability for self-preservation vanished the second his eyes twinkled, I’m running headfirst into this idea, even though I should probably be keeping these parts of myself under lock and key.

“I thought I’d add a few new items to my wardrobe, and since you love color so much, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you weighed in,” I tell him, infusing my words with extra sass.

Van’s fingers tense on my waist as a muscle ticks in his jaw. I’d expected a reaction similar to when I told him about the house color—pure, vibrant joy—so the heat slipping into his gaze catches me off guard.

“You’re getting kissed now.” The rough texture of his voice makes goosebumps erupt on my bare arms.

“You can’t—” My flustered sentence cuts off when he leans in. Breathing becomes impossible when his lips hover at the corner of my mouth, close but not touching.

“I can’t what? Kiss you in public? Do you have any idea how hard it is not to kiss you every second I’m conscious? Resisting you is a full-time job.”

Since keeping my eyelashes open is taking all my focus, my chiding response gets caught in my throat. “Evand—”

“Say it.” Van shifts even closer, every slight point of contact between us suddenly incendiary. “Say your husband’s name.”

A shaky breath escapes me as my fingers curl helplessly around his sleeve.

I should be able to focus on something other than Van’s undeniable presence.

I should be able to center myself on the overbright lights of the warehouse, the errant noises of other shoppers, and the oppressive scent of sawdust. But none of that exists anymore.

It’s just me and Van and the absence of time, since the seconds feel like they’ve been stretched into days.

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupts. “Could you hand me the Maine Cottage paint swatch. I’m not as tall as I used to be.”

Behind us, an older gentleman with wispy white hair outstretches his arm toward the top of the display. His red plaid patterned button-up is tucked into neatly pressed jeans, and a wry smile creases his mouth.

“Of course, sir.” Van extends the crutch to me before moving a step away to grab the paint swatch. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No. That’s it.” He shifts his gaze between us, his hands drumming on the handlebar of his cart. “Bet you’re newlyweds. You’ve got that spark between you.”

When Van’s ears pink, a thick pulse of adoration beats in my chest.

“We are,” I say when Van doesn’t respond.

The man hums, his grin growing wider. “Nothing better. I’ve been with my Mary fifty-six years—most of them good. Every marriage has its rough spots, but nothing beats that new love zip.”

Again, I expect Van to jump in, to use one of the made-up stories he tells the locals of Wilks Beach when they ask about our marriage. How we’re perfect for each other because of our differences, or that the moment our eyes first met, he’d known things would be different with me.

“I’m enjoying it,” I tell the man, warm honesty infusing my words.

“As you should.” When his phone rings in his front chest pocket, the man chuckles. “Speaking of Mary. If you’ll excuse me.”

I watch the man lean an elbow on the cart to move down the aisle while chatting with his wife before glancing up at Van. His gray eyes are unreadable as they scan my face, but the tension in his shoulders is unmistakable.

“Did you mean that?” A deep inhale broadens his chest. “What you just said?”

My brows pinch. Isn’t Van enjoying our time together? I know we haven’t had a formal discussion about the status of our relationship, like mature adults, but he’s always smiling whenever I enter a room or finding little ways to touch me. I assumed…

“Yeah. Aren’t—”

But I don’t get to finish my sentence because my husband kisses me fully and deeply in the middle of a hardware store.