Page 45 of Easy On Me

Chapter Thirteen

Tyler

String lights and chandeliers lit up the night, while music drifted from the Bartletts’ restored barn into the courtyard, blending with chatter and laughter.

And I breathed in the clean, crisp air, my hand tucked into my husband’s elbow.

My husband.

I’d faltered halfway up the aisle, the weight of what we were doing with no love between us settling in my lungs, pushing out all the air. Jase, his gaze on my face, strode to meet me, curving his palms around my elbows, warm through the thin lace. All of him warmed me, his tall body strong and steady in a dark gray suit.

“We don’t have to,” he’d whispered. “We can walk back up this aisle, have a great party, go home, and carry on like we are until you’re ready.”

My bouquet in one hand, I’d clutched his lapel and stared into those serious eyes, aware of the eyes on us. They didn’t matter, though. Only the way he looked at me did. Waiting wouldn’t change who he was. And sure, we didn’t love one another now, but that didn’t mean we wouldn’t later.

I’d smoothed out his lapel, then his green tie, still looking up at him. “I want to.”

A slow smile had transformed his entire face, tension dropping away to be replaced by relief and happiness. He’d dropped his head to kiss me, squeezed my elbows, then shifted to stand at my side. “Let’s do this, then.”

We had and now he was my husband.

I glanced up at his profile, lips curved in an easy grin while he listened to his grandfather tease his grandmother. This steady, handsome man was mine.

And I was his.

I ran my thumb over my wedding bands, a giddy excitement I’d never fully experienced before bubbling through me. The reception wasn’t responsible, although this party was beautiful. And it wasn’t his mama accepting me with a smile and a hug, even though she must have doubts. It wasn’t the gorgeous dress, the friends, the music or the food.

It was him and the certainty we were building something beautiful, something easy and strong.

Something permanent.

He’d married me.

I was his wife.

“What’s that smile about?” he murmured near my ear as his grandparents walked away to join Coach Bartlett, who was talking with another man around his age.

I turned to meet those serious eyes. Touching his jaw because I could, I tilted my mouth up to kiss him because I wanted to and smiled wider. “You.”

Pleasure flared in his gaze, brightening the blue depths. He squeezed my waist then spread his hand across my hip, so I felt the hot press of every fingertip.

“I’m not rushing you. I want you to enjoy every second of this.” His warm voice rushed over my ear, lips brushing the curve of my cheek. “But we can sneak out when you want.”

With a glance around, I soaked in the details – the soft lighting, the nineties country love songs, the sparkle of glass and china, our friends and family. It was wonderful, but I felt a strong draw to be alone with him for a more intimate celebration. “Let’s go.”

A wide grin curved his lips, and he linked our fingers. We’d already said our thank-yous while we made our rounds earlier. Nothing separated us from what we both wanted – to be alone.

With eager steps, he hustled me away from the lights and onto the paver path that led to the tiny honeymoon cottage, which seemed straight out of a fairy tale wonderland. The tang of young pecan trees starting to bud colored the cool, clean air hovering between winter and spring. Pools of light spilled on the pavers, guiding our steps. Clad in white wood siding that glowed in the landscape lighting around it, the cottage sported wide brick steps leading to a porch spanning the entire front.

We ran up the steps, my heels clicking on the brick, but Jase stopped me before I opened the door. Bending to slide an arm behind my knees, he scooped me into his arms, nudged the door open with his elbow and carried me across the threshold. Cradled to his chest, I stroked his arm, happiness fizzing through me.

With gentle movements, he lowered me to my feet, and I glanced around, enchanted with the pretty sitting area, ivory slipcovers on squashy sofas, roses and peonies to match my bouquet in a silver bowl on the coffee table.

Jase tilted his head toward the little kitchen, an array of snacks and beverages waiting on the small island. “Do you want something–”

I tiptoed up to kiss him, caught his hand with both of mine and tugged him toward the bedroom. Anticipation uncurled in my belly, little tendrils of desire. We’d moved in together weeks ago, and we’d had sex, hot as always.

But this . . . this was different now, leaving me breathless.