Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(54)

“Don’t be silly. You can stay in with me. I’ve got a perfectly nice room.”

“This is all in your plan. You did this on purpose,” I say.

“Well, really, Joe. I cannot control the weather. That would make me Zeus, rather than just an ordinary, run-of-the mill god amongst men.”

“Arse amongst men.” I narrow my eyes, a sudden suspicion hitting me. “Oh my god was that what all that was about?”

He looks slightly nervous. “What?”

“All the talking and then making me draw the bar curtains against the dark night, so I’d be warm.”

“I do hope that wasn’t an impersonation of my voice, because it was very wide of the mark.”

“You just didn’t want me to see the weather.” I suck in a breath. “And all that ‘Oh stay for another drink, Joe’. You planned this.”

“You have a pathologically suspicious mind for such a charming man.”

“Yes, and I have a murderous side to go with it.”

He gives me a bland smile. “So, what do you say? It’s just one night.” He pauses. “Or two if the snowploughs can’t get up here. We’ve shared a bed hundreds of times.”

“A bed? There’s only one bed?” My voice is high.

He pats my shoulder. “Unfortunately, I neglected to book an extra bed for my non-existent travelling companion.”

“You know, sarcasm is going to land you in a snow drift pretty soon.”

“I’d have thought you’d think I was being supportive.”

“Why?”

“Wasn’t it you who wanted to pretend we were still together? What sort of devoted husband would I be if I let my husband sleep on a sofa in a bar?”

“After being married to you for a while, I can truthfully say that it’s the natural end destination.”

I take a second look at him. His eyes are brimming with laughter, and suddenly I want to laugh too. We smile at each other, and it’s so sweet that I can’t think of anything to say. He takes that as his cue to get me walking again and we half-slip, half-slide towards the hotel entrance.

I huff. “So rather than lying on a beach in Thailand, I am going to be spending two days snowed in with Mommie Frances Dearest and an ABBA tribute band who cannot sing.”

“And me,” he says. “The silver lining to your cloud since the day we first met, my dearest darling.”





Chapter

Twelve





Lachlan



The heat is almost painful when we step indoors. I immediately pull Joe’s coat from his shoulders and shove him in front of the fire. “Stay there,” I order.

He’s very pale and shuddering, which is hardly surprising as his winter clothes appear best able to support him at a nightclub in Spain.

“W-where are you g-going?” he says through chattering teeth.

“I’m just going to get a towel for your hair. Stay by the fire. You’re as pale as the snow.”

I race up the stairs and into my room where I grab a towel from the heated rail. On my way back down, I pause for a second and look at my husband. He’s perched on a leather wingchair holding out his hands to the fire. The flames illuminate the sharp angles of his face. He’s so handsome. It was the first thing I noticed about him. I’d seen him across the room at that wedding, and I’d lost my breath.

He looks up and I start down the stairs again. “Bend forward,” I command when I get close.

“You sweet talker, you.”

For a second, we grin at each other, but when his blue gaze becomes guarded and then flicks away, I have to suppress a sigh. Before my complete and utter stupidity ruined everything, he would look at me differently. There had been a time when I’d thought I was seeing the light of genuine love on Joe’s face, but after discovering he’d witnessed that kiss Elliott had landed on me, I realise I’m lucky Joe will even look at me at all.

He gives a sudden shiver bringing me back to the present, and I exclaim and start to dry the wet waves of his hair.

“Ouch,” he complains as I rub his head.

“Where are you hurt?” I demand, making him sit still as I part the crow-black waves of his hair.

“Lachlan.”

“Hush,” I order. “That’s a nasty bang on your forehead, sweetheart.” I gently trace the edge of the bruise and then jerk as he flinches. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, glancing at me.

There’s bemusement written all over his face and it’s not surprising. I am never this frayed. He knows me as a man who is cool and controlled, not a frazzled mess reduced to chasing his husband all the way to Scotland. It’s just the thought of him being hurt. It turns me inside out.

I still as he takes my hand. “I’m alright. I promise.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe they have a doctor here.”

“Where? Up the chimney?” I roll my eyes, and he chuckles. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I’ll be waking you up tonight to see if you know your name.”

He snorts and then immediately winces. “I can think of a few times when you’ve made me completely forget it.”

Our gazes lock. His eyes are wide, as if he’s shocked at what just came out of his mouth, but I’m not surprised. We’re very attracted to each other. That’s never been in doubt, and neither has the fact that he’s an incredible flirt. It’s as natural as breathing to him, but it’s his sweet nature that allows him to do it without ever hurting anyone’s feelings.