Page 37 of Solitary Man

We stayed like that for a long time, kissing, stroking, holding each other.

I didn’t know how it happened so fast, but I was in so deep with Riley that I hated even letting her go to the bathroom without me. Had to stop myself from trailing her up the stairs just so I could keep my arms around her and my mouth on hers.

This could only mean one thing, and it terrified the hell out of me. It was too soon. I could still lose her. But there was no mistaking it.

I’d fallen in love with my sweet, little wife.

9

Riley

I woke and stretched, yawning wide, then opened my eyes.

Cash was standing by our bed, a mug of hot chocolate in his hand and an odd look on his face.

I blinked up at him. “Good morning.”

He’d kept me up late. It had been like that the last two weeks. My husband was insatiable. Not that I minded in the least, but unlike him, I found it harder to spring out of bed in the morning. Often by the time I woke, he’d been out working on the property or in the workshop for several hours.

He handed me my hot chocolate, and I took a sip, letting the caffeine do its thing.

“You had a bad dream last night,” he said, eyes boring into mine.

I froze. “Did I?”

He made a rumbly sound. “You’ve had a few.”

I’d been so sure he’d slept through them. God, I wasn’t ready to talk about it with Cash. I didn’t want to ruin the present by bringing up the past, not now when we were still finding our feet as a couple. “Huh, weird,” I said, probably unconvincingly.

He watched me for several long seconds more, and I smiled up at him and took another sip of my drink. He frowned, but then his wide shoulders relaxed.

“Come on,” he finally said, thankfully dropping the topic. “Wanna show you something.”

I did as he asked. I was in pj shorts that I’d tugged on after Cash had made me come three times and a tank. It was cool, so I slipped on the long, sloppy cardigan I’d been using like a robe and shoved my feet in my Ugg boots and took his hand.

He let me.

He always let me. Cash never initiated the hand holding, but he didn’t seem to mind when I laced my fingers with his. I thought—hoped—he liked it as much as me.

Cash led me down the hall to the door that led to the new extension at the back of the house. He opened it, and we walked in. We had walls, a roof, and he’d laid the floorboards in the last few weeks. There was still a lot to do before it would be useable, but it was already pretty awesome.

He led me to the door on the left. It was my favorite room. It had a spectacular view of the mountains, but I could also see Cash’s barn/workshop out the window.

The door swung open, and I froze at the threshold.

While we’d spent every night together, we had our own things to do during the day. Cash did what Cash did, and I wrote. I had a deadline to meet, and I’d been hiding away in the bedroom, working on my book, then usually I’d make dinner. Sometimes Cash would.

Which was why I’d had no idea that he’d been working on this room.

I twisted to look at him, and he was watching me, his color high, hands moving restlessly at his sides.

“How did you find the time to do all this?” I whispered.

The floor was polished, the walls painted a beautiful duck-egg blue. There was a huge bookshelf against one wall and a desk…the most exquisite desk I’d ever seen, sitting in the middle of the room. My laptop was on it, along with all my notebooks and journals.

“Will it do?” he asked.

I opened my mouth, closed it, trying to find the right words.