Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(12)

It’s likely she’s been served her meals by a maid and had them cooked by a chef. The full American princess treatment.

We eat, clean up, and then I put a nightgown Cash included with the clothes in the bathroom for her. After she crawls into bed, I grab her more pain pills and a glass of water.

After swallowing the meds, she stares at me for a long time.

I can’t look away.

Those golden eyes are mesmerizing. She’s so fucking beautiful and frail it hurts, this soft, confused young thing eyeing me like I can make all her worries vanish in a flash.

If only. Hell, just admitting how hot she is feels like a weird relief, considering I’ve been fighting it all day.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” she asks, sitting up.

Shit. Here we go.

I shake my head, having decided I’d sleep upstairs in Bryce’s room. “Figured you’d be better off with the bed to yourself. I’ll sleep—”

“What? Why?” She shrugs. “It’s a big bed, and...”

Oh, hell. Her cheeks go rosy pink, and then her words hit me right between the eyes. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Well, fuck.

When she looks at me with those big gold eyes, something happens. Probably the same thing that’s been happening ever since Cash pulled up and I carried her into my house.

My heart starts thudding, telling me I’m not as immune to her magic as I thought.

My hands clench at my sides, forming fists, like some screwed up secret prayer trying to save us both from a cataclysm.

“Please, Flint?” she whispers. “We’re married, aren’t we?”

Right. That whole thing, I think to myself. Where’s the sniper to put me out of my misery?

I’ll kick myself in the ass for this later.

“Okay,” I finally agree. Gritting my teeth at the way other parts of my body react, I tell her, “Just let me hop in the shower first.”

She beams like the sun, stroking the cat that followed us in here. It’s resting on the bed beside her. “We’ll be here.”

Just frigging great. Another adjustment, having to share my bed with a mini cheetah and a girl who just might make me hard enough to hit a home run.

I head to the bathroom, shaking my head as soon as the door’s shut.

No lie, this might be the toughest job I’ve ever taken on.

And that’s saying a fuck of a lot, considering the Cornaro Outfit made me wish I was dead once upon a time.

I’m not sure what worries me more as I stand under the waterfall showerhead, temperature set to glacial.

Is it the re-match with Cornaro guns making me freak?

Or is it Valerie Gerard’s sweet looks that could end me in a puff of flame and testosterone?





3





Turtle Tracks (Valerie)





I don’t know why I’m so scared, why I don’t dare be alone.

Sure, I guess the whole losing my mind and waking up in agony, magically hitched to the hottest man on the island might have something to do with it but...

Why does it feel like I can’t trust anyone but Flint? Because he’s my husband?

I have to keep reminding myself it’s true.

No denying it, the man could chase every Instagram beast on the planet under the table with his looks. This natural son of the sea, all seam-bursting muscle and icy-hot starshine stares and dancing ink I totally wouldn’t mind seeing up close and personal.

Forget the kind of man you wouldn’t mind chowing down on crackers in your bed. For him, I just might leave a whole fricking package.

But it’s more than just a schoolgirl crush.

He’s built, yeah, but he also has this powerful, mysterious aura. Like the air itself ignites with static every time he’s near. Maybe it’s too weird to describe perfectly, but I know what he does to me.

When he’s near, I feel safe.

And safe also means oddly relieved. I think I’ve been afraid for a long time, even if I don’t know why.

There’s so much I don’t know.

A sigh builds in my chest and my eyes flutter shut. I listen to the shower running.

Flint keeps telling me not to try so hard, not to push too fast, but not knowing anything about who I am sucks the big one.

Imagine if everything was gone.

All your happy summers. All the stuck-up mean girls who made your teen years hell. All your first kisses with boys you really liked. All your scabbed knees and butterfly sightings and surfboard rides and getting grounded by your parents and...even your own flipping wedding day.

Holy hell.

I should remember getting married, especially to a man like him. Whatever other mistakes I’ve made in my life, I can’t see how I went wrong here. Somehow, I landed the type of guy who’ll be there at three in the morning when a girl keeps yodeling up seawater, or at two in the afternoon when she just needs a nice tall drink of mango iced tea.

Honestly? It feels good to be that girl.

Even tumbling down this memory abyss, that much is obvious.

My lips curl into a smile, and I don’t fight it this time.

Same for the thought of having him in bed beside me, where I can lay my head on his shoulder and sleep the night away. That’s the other thing. I’m so exhausted. Can’t keep my eyes pried open for more than a few hours at a time.