Hitched(37)

Hmmm…I’d take him over cinnamon buns anytime.

I turn to him with a tight smile. “Ruthie May was just asking for our wedding day story,” I say. “Says she hasn’t heard one that makes sense yet.”

He flashes Ruthie May a grin before fixing his gaze on me, the look in his eyes making my panties melt and my heart leap out to beat on my sleeve.

“That’s funny,” he drawls as he wraps his arms around me and Honey. “’Cause I’ve never heard anything that makes more sense than me and you, baby.”

And then he kisses me, a just-barely-fit-for-public-consumption kiss that, even with a baby goat squirming between us and Ruthie May, Maud, and Gerald looking on, makes me feel like we’re the only two people left on earth.

It’s just me and this man who I’m beginning to realize will always own a piece of my soul. No matter where we go from here or how many years stretch out between now and the day we finally go our separate ways.

And maybe that’s okay, as long as I leave a piece of his soul better than it was before I found it.

I emerge from the kiss bleary-eyed, but clear in my heart. I need to do something nice for this man, something very nice, to show him how much he means to me. And I have a pretty good idea what will put a smile on his face.

“Well, well,” Ruthie May says, clearly pleased by the performance. “My gossipy side still wants details, but all in all it looks like this is a pleasant surprise for everyone involved.”

“Except the goat,” Gerald says, as grouchy as ever. But even he sounds like he might be a little touched, and when I look his way he’s got his arms around Maud, patting her hip with obvious affection.

But Maud and Gerald spend their share of time fighting too. Sometimes here in the bakery, arguing over who burned the muffins or who keeps shoving more trash in the can instead of emptying the bag.

Last week, their shouting match was enough to get the Happy Cat sheriff’s department involved. Or at least the deputy who lives next door.

All over whether or not to buy a new dryer.

A bird had pooped on Gerald’s boxers while they were hanging out on the clothesline, and he decided he’d had enough of conserving energy, while Maud insisted birds wouldn’t poop on his boxers if he’d wear the tight kind that make a smaller target.

That’s the kind of marriage I don’t want. The only kind I’ve ever seen, where even people who sometimes look happily married can be miserable underneath.

The reminder is enough to make me pull away from Blake and step toward the door. “We’ve got to get the babies home. See y’all later.”

“Later,” Ruthie May echoes, “but I still want details!”

“Let’s just say we both finally ended up where we were supposed to be,” Blake says with a wink tossed over his shoulder.

Ruthie May and Maud both swoon.

“You think she bought it?” he murmurs as soon as we’re clear of the bakery and approaching his truck.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” I say. “You’re very convincing.”

“Why don’t you sound happier about that?”

I look up at him. “Of course I’m happy about it. And so grateful. You’ve been flat out heroic today.”

“You liked my breakfast sandwich that much, huh?” he asks in a flirty voice that I answer with a serious one.

“Your breakfast sandwich was delicious, but I’m talking about bringing Chewy to the rescue. And listening hard enough last night to know that it was exactly the right thing to do. Most people wouldn’t have remembered that I mentioned the babies like Chewy. But you did.”

“I listen when you talk.” He rests a hand at the small of my back, making my traitorous body hum all over. “You make me want to pay attention.”

“And you make me want to say thank you with something better than words.”

The confession slips out before I realize my traitorous tongue is flapping, so I punch the crosswalk button as an excuse to put distance between us.

I can’t keep letting him touch me or I’m never going to make it through our marriage without climbing him like a tree. A really sexy tree. Every brush of his fingers over my skin is a wave sweeping onto the shore, eroding my resistance like grains of sand, helpless in the face of the tide.

“Meet me for sandwiches at the Kennedy Family Day School at six?” I ask as we cross the street toward his truck and the big trailer, where Chewy is already tucked safely inside. “I should have my surprise sorted by then.”

“I thought you were going to let me cook for you.”

“I think you deserve a treat tonight, and since my cooking is far from something to write home about, I’m going to treat you to a Kennedy School feast.” I stop by the trailer’s gate to open it and let Honey scamper inside to take the ride home with her favorite Uncle Chewpaca. As expected, she practically dances over to meet him, wagging all over, probably telling him all about her harrowing adventure in the land of UnderDaBakeryBooth.

I count the goats, and breathe a sigh of relief.

We have them all. Thank goodness. And George is gone, leaving a mess that the yoga class is almost finished picking up.

“I like your cooking, but I’ll take a gourmet sandwich treat too.” Blake puts an arm around my waist. I start to pull away, but he leans in, murmuring into my ear. “Better kiss me, Mrs. O’Dell. Our shadow is over by the playground.”