Terms and Conditions (Dreamland Billionaires, #2)(83)

“Please. I haven’t officially earned that title until I have a greenhouse of my own.”

“Do you want one?”

“A greenhouse?”

“Are the pesticides in here getting to your head or are you just struggling to comprehend what I’m asking?”

“Maybe I’m struggling because you’re not asking in the first place.”

His chest heaves from a deep breath. “Would you like a greenhouse?”

“In your backyard?”

“I think we can start calling it ours, seeing as you live there too.”

My mouth opens before shutting again. “You’re offering to build me a greenhouse?”

“If only to save me from tripping over potted plants in the middle of the night when I want a goddamn glass of water.”

“Of course. How silly of me to think you wanted to build one to make me happy.”

“Anything I do is solely for my benefit.” But his grin says the exact opposite.

The warm feeling from his smile follows me as we keep walking through the greenhouse. I take the time to explain all the different plants to Declan.

For someone who always seems to be taking the lead, he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered about following me.

As we step out of the greenhouse and blink up at the sun, Declan asks, “Where to next?”

I point toward the trail that will take us around the lake. “That way.”

Together, we walk hand in hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Declan asks me questions about different plants and I answer them, getting far too excited about topics like the difference between tropical and semi-tropical. He asks silly questions, half of which I’m sure are done purposefully to make me laugh.

Seriously, there is no way I willingly married someone who doesn’t know the difference between a succulent and a cactus. He seems confused about how all cacti are succulents but not all succulents are cacti, and I spend a good hour in the Arid Greenhouse with him, explaining everything I know about the different plants. Not once does he seem bored despite my nonstop chatter.

Declan, a man who doesn’t speak for longer than five-minute spans of time, spoke to me for hours. The idea makes me far giddier than it should.

It’s not until the sun begins to set that Declan steers us toward the exit.

“So, did you ever find them?”

“Who?”

I lift our interlocked hands in the air to remind him of our duty. “The reporter we came here to pretend in front of.”

“No.”

“I knew it! You can stop lying now.”

“Lying about what?”

“We didn’t come here so a reporter could see us, did we?”

His eyes lighten. “Why else would we come here?”

“Because you wanted to take me out on a date, but you didn’t want to admit it was that in the first place just in case I rejected you, so you made up this whole elaborate story so I wouldn’t ask questions.”

“Is narcissism genetic or is our child safe from that awful personality trait?”

The way he says “our child” sends a wave of something through me that I refuse to acknowledge. “Depends. If we’re going based on paternal history, they are screwed from the start.”

He reaches out and runs his thumb across my bottom lip. “Hopefully they inherit their mother’s selflessness instead.”

I officially raise the white flag as I stand on the tips of my toes and kiss him.





32





IRIS


W e sit in silence during the entire drive back to the house. I’m not sure what to say, and Declan looks about one comment away from fucking me in his mom’s car, so I stay quiet.

My heart rate reaches a critical level by the time he drives into the garage, and I’m out of breath as he pulls me out of the car and straight into the house.

He moves so fast. One moment I’m blinking up at him, the next I’m being pushed up against a wall. My spine tingles from the momentum.

“Tell me what you want.” His crazed expression does something insane to my insides.

My heart thuds against my chest, my pulse thundering with each beat. I lose all ability to speak. The way he stares at me, with his jaw clenched and nostrils flaring with each ragged breath, makes me shiver.

“I’m not sure.”

He lets out a groan as he steps away.

I miss his warmth instantly. “Declan—” I reach out to touch him, but he grabs both my wrists and locks them above my head.

“You haven’t earned the right to touch me yet.”

“And you have?”

He traces the column of my neck with his free hand, and my whole body lights up like a firework. “I’m not scared to claim what’s mine.”

“I’m not afraid.” Not anymore. I’m done with the back and forth. The uncertainty is driving me crazy, and it isn’t fair to him. He planned a date for me and pretended it was a fake one just so I would go. I don’t think anyone has done something so sweet for me ever.

“Prove it then.” He releases my wrists.

“Strikhedonia.” I no doubt butcher the pronunciation, but it seems to draw a genuine smile from Declan nonetheless.