Page 81 of Bound To Be Mine

“Are you nervous?” I tilted my head up to look at him.

“About the interview? Not really.” His hand moved from my shoulder to my hair, gently combing through the strands. “We know each other well enough now. It won’t be hard to sell the story. We stick to the story of the instant love and it works. We don’t have to know every detail.”

He was right. A week ago, the idea of doing a couple’s interview would have terrified me. We barely knew each other. We couldn’t stand each other half the time. Any interviewer worth their salt would have seen right through us. Our chemistry was more in line with a toxic stew. Now it was more passionate. I guess seeing someone naked will do that.

But now? After Vegas, after the carriage and the roller coaster and the chapel? After tonight?

“It doesn’t feel so fake anymore,” I admitted quietly. “Does it?”

His hand stilled in my hair. I felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath. I braced myself for rejection. I was already running through a way to take it back. My insecurity was roaring to life. I was too thick. Too much of a workaholic. Too bossy. A man like Briggs Blackwell did not want me.

“No,” he said finally. “It doesn’t.”

I almost cried with relief.

And then the second wave of reality washed in. It was temporary. He was east coast, and I was west coast. All of this would be ending in a couple of months. He was only staying in town for a few weeks. I didn’t know him well enough to know his dating history. He might have a stable of women on regular rotation back home.

But I didn’t want to think about that. Not right now. Not when I was lying here in his arms, feeling more content than I had in years.

“Stay,” I said. “Tonight. Don’t go back to the guest room.”

“You sure?” His voice was soft, but I could hear the hope underneath.

“I’m sure.” I pressed a kiss to his chest. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me and holding me tight. “I’m right where I want to be.”

I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of him. Tomorrow we’d do the interview. We’d smile for the camera and tell our story and sell the fantasy of our perfect romance to thousands of listeners.

But right now, in this moment, it didn’t feel like a fantasy at all. It felt real.

His breathing began to even out, becoming slower and deeper. I felt myself drifting, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the security of his arms around me.

“Mandy?” he murmured, his voice already thick with sleep.

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Giving me a chance to prove I’m not a total asshole.”

I smiled against his skin. “Thank you for using my grill and making me an amazing dinner.”

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Best decision I ever made.”

“Marrying me for grill access?”

I fell asleep wrapped in my husband’s arms, feeling safer and more cherished than I could ever remember feeling before. Whatever happened next, including the inevitable end of our arrangement, I would deal with it when it came.

For now, this was enough.

More than enough.

This was everything.

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