Page 31 of The Marriage Deal (Sunset Falls #1)

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE

brIGGS

It could be goats. I’ve been trying to translate the meaning of that text since I got it almost five hours earlier.

If I could have left work, I would have.

But we’re going to be breaking ground in the coming weeks.

We’re moving fast. I want the resort up and running by next spring, so there’s no time to mess around.

But Nash’s words have a spark of fear moving through me as I turn onto my drive. I’d flashed him my screen so he could read the message. Then he howled.

He didn’t just howl. He threw his head back to do it. Called the attention of the crew. Including Lilah’s brother, who has made his not-too-fond feelings regarding Lilah moving in with me more than clear.

Then Nash said, “Bet she got chickens. A whole shit ton of em.”

Dakota shook his head. “Not chickens. Cats. She’s always wanted cats. A whole litter of cats.”

The house comes into view between the trees. It’s lit up against the backdrop of a sunset blasted with brushstrokes of red. By lit up, I mean the lights are on. The house is glowing.

I’ve never come home to a glowing house. Not once in my adult life.

I throw my truck in park and swallow down the fear I feel at the thought of a whole box of chickens waiting inside for me. Would she bring them inside?

Shit, I don’t want chickens. Yet.

I decide that Dakota knows her better than Nash. As soon as I do, a flip turns my stomach. She wouldn’t really adopt a whole litter of cats, would she? What does one do with a whole litter?

Memory plays in my mind and I can practically feel Nash’s hand slap against my shoulder, his words echoing loudly in my mind. “You wanted a petting zoo.” Another howl of laughter. “For the kids.”

At those words, Dakota’s lip had twitched with something more than disdain for me. Something like—respect?

“Shit,” I breathe out a sigh as I scrub my hands down my face, don my hat and throw open the door of my truck.

My pace is quick as I move through—absolute chaos.

It’s a dirt bomb. But there’s a few pots with freshly planted flowers to show for it.

Though I figure the little lunatic isn’t finished yet, considering there is a line of flowers that have yet to be planted in the empty pots.

Relief settles inside me, and I grin. This is what she meant. Excuse the mess, future husband, it could be goats.

I laugh aloud and enter the house.

I’m instantly hit with the sweet aroma of homemade apple pie.

The house is filled with the scent of a warmth that is so warm it permeates through flesh and bone to the marrow inside.

Something eases inside me. Something I didn’t realize was tight.

This is what it feels like to come home to someone.

This is what it feels like to not be alone.

I kick off my boots. There’s a burn in my throat. I’ve never felt it before, not once in my life.

I hang my hat in time to see the woman I’ll soon be marrying dance into view. That burn turns tight.

Her skin is dewy in the heat, because the woman insists air conditioning isn’t a necessity. Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail at the back of her head. Flyaway hairs frame her face, and she’s not wearing any makeup at all.

My gaze drops from her face to the dress she wears to her bare feet and back up again to land on the thin strap that’s fallen from her shoulder down her arm.

She is messy, chaotic wonder.

She’s more than beautiful. She’s peace.

“Hi,” she greets. I swear that blush wasn’t there a second ago.

My gaze drops again to the dog that never leaves her side. And that’s when I see it. The little black cat that stands behind them both.

Fuck. My. Life.

My eyes flick back up to the woman who now wears a rather sheepish look on her face. I look back down thinking maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. Hoping my mind is playing tricks on me. It’s not.

The cat is still there.

“What’s that?” I look back to my fiancée.

She pulls her lip between her teeth, shifting on the spot. Then she shrugs as a slow, slightly worried smile spreads on her face. “It could be goats—right?”

Dakota’s words come back to me. “Cats. She’s always wanted cats. A whole litter of cats.”

A whole litter. Fucking hell.

My hands fall to my hips and I pull in a breath that expands my chest. I’m afraid to ask, but I can’t help myself. “How many are there?”

Her face scrunches. “What?”

“Cats, Lilah. How many are there?”

She shakes her head. “Where?”

“Here.” Dammit, is she being obtuse on purpose?

“Oh, just Spook.” She frowns. “Spookers. Why, did you think there’d be more?”

That is a loaded question if I ever heard one, and I refuse to give it any attention at all. I don’t want my clearly impulsive soon-to-be wife to get any wild ideas about getting the little thing a buddy or five.

“Did you call it Spook?”

Her slow smile turns radiant. I wouldn’t deny her five more if she smiled at me like that every day.

Shit, I’m in trouble.

Is this what love feels like? Perpetually blindsided by the want to earn myself that exact smile, no matter the cost?

Since when am I thinking of love?

What is happening right now?

“That’s his name. Spook. Spookers for fun.” She steps toward me on her bare tiptoes. “Isn’t it cute?”

“It?”

“His name! It’s a cute name.” She looks proud of herself.

“I don’t know if naming a cat after a spy is cute, but what do I know?”

She falls to the flat of her feet, pouting. Hell, but she’s cute when she pouts.

“Why does everyone keep saying spy?”

I frown down at her. She really is a cute little lunatic. “What does spook mean to you, Lilah?”

“Spook, like spooky. Like Halloween.” She rolls her finger in the air. “You know? Tell me you know?”

I shrug. “I know it as a term in spy movies and books.” I just can’t handle the look of utter disappointment on her face, so I add, “But your definition works, too.”

I’m immediately hit with that radiant smile again. The one that would have any man doing his darndest to make her do it again. And again. And again.

I take a step toward her. “Is that apple pie I smell?”

She nods, pulling that lip between her teeth again. The urge to kiss her hits me with a violence I don’t expect.

“And apple crisp. I peeled a few too many apples.”

“I love apple crisp.”

“Who doesn’t?”

I need to move away from her or I’m going to kiss her. I want to do more than kiss her. But the last time I let myself taste her; things went too far. I touched her. Made her come apart. And she fled me.

It’s been days where I’ve hardly seen her. Days where she’s slept in and worked late. Days where she’s avoided me.

I miss her.

This is getting messy. I didn’t anticipate this when I proposed she become my fake wife.

She spins away from me, moving back toward the kitchen on her bare feet. I watch the sway of her peach-colored dress around her hips and swallow hard to clear my throat.

“I’ve got pulled pork in the crock pot and coleslaw in the fridge.”

I lay my palms flat on the cool granite of the island. “You cooked?”

Her eyes swing to me at the deep pitch of my voice, no doubt. She blushes again, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Hardly.”

“You made dinner, Lilah. That’s cooking.” I don’t know why she can’t take a compliment. Why she thinks that when she does something, she doesn’t do enough of it.

Her blush deepens and I watch, amused as she pulls in a nervous breath. “Well, you worked a long day today. You’ve been working long days every day.”

“So have you.”

She wets her lips. I wonder if she knows every time she does that, they are even more irresistible. That every time she licks her lips, I’m reminded of the taste of her.

She changes the subject as she turns to pull a golden pie from the oven, placing the unbaked crisp inside. “So, how’s the project coming along?”

“Good. We’ll be breaking ground soon. I noticed the petition to run me out of town has been taken down.”

She makes a noise between a laugh and a groan. “It never should have been up in the first place.”

“Did you remove it?”

She shakes her head but doesn’t give me her eyes. “Dad did. He says Dakota says you have nothing but good intentions for Sunset Falls.”

“He speaks the truth.”

“So, this is where you’re going to stay? This is where you want to plant your roots?”

She’s still not looking at me. I don’t know why I want her eyes for this, but I do. I round the counter, though I don’t exactly crowd her.

I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans to ignore the need to touch her chin. To force those warm eyes to mine.

“This is home now, Lilah. This house and Sunset Falls—” And you. I swallow the words that want to escape, continuing, “it’s home.”

She finally tips those eyes up to mine. “No more startup companies for you?”

I breathe out a laugh. “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that I’ll do whatever I do from here. That wherever life takes me, I’ve decided to make this spot right here home base.”

“Oh.” She presses her lips together and parts them to speak again when my phone rings.

I curse whoever is on the other end of the line as I tug it from my pocket. Mom’s name flashes on my screen and I do curse this time. Out loud.

But I answer the call. “Mom.”

“Nash tells me things are progressing well with the resort.”

“They are.” I hate and love that Mom thinks of Nash as a son. When I was young, I always wanted a brother. Now that I basically have one, I realize how much of a fool I was.

“You don’t call me enough.”

I grunt. “Nash calls you too much.”

Lilah has busied herself with pulling coleslaw from the fridge. Next are the ingredients for what I assume is the coleslaw sauce she’ll make. But I don’t miss the little smile that pulls at the corner of her mouth as she listens.

Mom replies, “So, he didn’t tell you, did he?”

I lean into the counter, getting comfortable. “Tell me what?”

“I suppose those loyalties of his really do lie with me. I thought for sure he was pulling my leg.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, then demand, “Are you driving?”

“I’m currently an hour away from you.”

“An hour?”

“That’s what the GPS says.”

Lilah freezes before she whips around to face me. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is open in shock.

Her finger points to the ground and she whisper-hisses, “An hour away from here?”

I nod to Lilah who looks like she’s about to faint before she kicks into action, shoving the slaw and ingredients back into the fridge.

Her hands are trembling. No, her entire body is trembling, and Senior can obviously read the spike in her anxiety, because he’s now in the kitchen with her, standing close as she spirals.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

Mom’s reply is instant. “I told Nash.”

“Who obviously did not tell me,” I growl. “Where are you staying?”

“I’m staying with my son and his fiancée, whom I’ve yet to meet even though I hinted more than once that I’d like an invite to do so before the wedding.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

“Wonderful.”

I disconnect and Lilah hisses again, “That was your mom?”

“Yes.”

“She’s coming here?”

“Yes.”

She gives a little jump on the balls of her feet as she squeals, “In an hour!”

It’s so dang cute, I almost smile. Almost.

Instead, I say again, “Yes.”

Lilah’s hands fly to her hair, fingers curling into the waves against her scalp. “Oh, my God. What are we going to do?”

I watch my fake fiancée panic for a whole minute before I say low, “Lilah, calm down.”

“I can’t calm down. My fake fiancé’s mom is on her way to stay in the same house as me!” Her hands slide from her hair to cover her face as she groans. “I don’t even share a room with you. She’s going to know this is a sham and everything will be ruined.”

“About that…”

She peeks through her fingers. “About what?”

“Sharing a room.” Her hands drop as mine lift in a gesture that is wholly placating. “Hear me out, yeah?”

She nods, but says nothing.

I continue, “My mother is an intuitive woman and I’m a thirty-six-year-old man who wouldn’t be marrying a woman I hadn’t confirmed I was sexually compatible with.” Damn, now I feel heat in my cheeks. I clear my throat. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You want me to share a room with you?” Her words are hardly more than a whisper.

I scrub my hand down my face. “If we’re dancing around each other as we’ve been, not sharing a room, she’s going to know something is off. This changes nothing, Lilah.”

Lilah frowns, but she nods. “Okay.” She keeps nodding. “Okay.”

“She’s going to be here in an hour.”

My words spur her into action. One moment she’s standing in front of me in the kitchen. The next, she’s racing down the hall screaming about clean sheets and getting my ass in gear to move her stuff from her room into mine.

Before I know it, I’m hot on her trail with Senior hot on mine. I see flashes of Spook through it all. I draw the line at calling the poor thing Spookers.

She bosses and I take orders, bringing her things into my room and tucking it all away as though she’s always been here. It’s crazy, because as I hang the last dress in my closet beside my shirts, it feels like she always has.