Now, I’m sitting on the doorstep of my duplex, which is actually just a fancy word for a really skinny, tiny little place that is adjoined to another very skinny, tiny little place in a series of skinny, tiny little places that make up a whole string of skinny, tiny little places. I’m waiting for Leon to pick me up so we can go tomyfamily cabin. As a couple. Kind of. Well, not really. Alright, not at all.
I’m just happy that I’m going. I’m looking forward to a week away—sand, lake water, fishing, the sun, the cabin that I love so much, all of it. It’s been way too long. I’m not nervous about bringing Leon along at all. Yeah, not one bit. My stomach is not at all tied in knots worse than the ones I had to brush out from my hair after taking down that updo earlier today. Note to self, and by self, I mean everyone out there: Don’t go to get your hair professionally done, people. They use way too much hairspray and way too many pins. It hurts while they’re doing it, it hurts wearing it up, and it freaking hurts the most when you have to deal with the ratty rat’s nest after.
I don’t know why Leon insisted on leaving at night. I hate driving in the dark. The cabin is pretty remote, and part of the hour and twenty-minute drive will be in the pitch black. He wasn’t going to budge, and it looked like the vein in his forehead and both his eyes were going to pop out, so I gave in.
Now I’m sitting outside all eager freaking beaver chump here on my doorstep with my duffel bag. I have my arms crossed, a set of cut-off shorts on, and a hoodie thrown over my tank top. Oh, and flip-flops. Because I’m officially on vacay.
With. My. Husband.
Not really my husband, but kind of my husband. Legally, totally my husband. Ugh. Sigh.
A sweep of headlights coming into the complex’s front entrance and circling around my place has me putting a pause on those thoughts. They get an immediate jumpstart, right along with my pounding heart, when I recognize Leon’s red electric car.
I hope he charged that bloody thing and charged it well because if we get stranded, I know for a fact that we are pooched and will be pooched in the middle of bum farge nowhere.
I swallow back my worries about that in favor of giving Leon a scowl when he pulls up to my doorstep. He literally just lingers there, parked horizontally behind my car. Then, the passenger window rolls down. “Are we going, or are you sitting there all night?”
Hmph. So much for him being a gentleman.
He does unlock the doors, at least, so I can throw my bag into the backseat alongside his much neater, darker square suitcase that has a handle and wheels. I almost want to slide in there with the bags, give him the address, then feign sleep all the way. Let him get lost and run out of freaking electricity. It would serve his rude arse right. I just married the guy this morning, and he can’t even be bothered to help me with my bag?
It doesn’t matter that it’s not heavy. It’s the principle of it.
Taking the backseat way out feels like a true copout, so instead, I put on my best revenge dress-worthy smile and climb into the front. The car smells like him—him and his nice manly, earthy, fresh scent. It’s more earth than anything, like fresh rain on fresh-cut grass.
I might be a city girl, but I was raised at that cabin that we’re heading toward. We lived in Seattle, but my grandparents owned it, and then my parents took over the ownership, and while it might still be theirs, I know that one day, it will be passed down to the three of us kids so we can keep taking care of it. So, yeah. For a girl who was raised on country air, lake water, our little sandy beach, fishing, campfires, flowerbeds, and gardens, I really do like the smell of earth.
That’s what I’m blaming for the shiver that goes racing its way right up to my teeth and making my nipples so hard that the soft fabric of my bra actually feels scratchy. I can’t stop seeing Leon in that suit from this morning. He wears the same kind of suit to work all the time, a showcase of beauty so hard and rugged and wickedly tempting, but for some reason, he looked different this morning.
Ha, that’s right. Because it was our wedding morning and that suit was the one he married me in. That’s why that suit seemed special.
I give him tons of side-eye as I fasten my seatbelt and stare forward at the dash. It does nothing to stop the instant mouth drool I have going on over the fact that he isn’t wearing a suit now. He’s got a black T-shirt on, an old leather jacket thrown on top and left unzipped, and jeans.
Pretty much the bad boy anthem since the dawn of time, and my god, does the usual suit-wearing, immaculate Leon rock it.
I need to get my mind out of Leon’s not-so-guttery bad boy gutter and get my head on straight. I need to up my game. I can’t let him affect me this way. We have a week in close proximity together, so I have to be carefully neutral. The quickest way to cover up what I’m really feeling, which is flustered as all fuck, is to be annoying because I know Leon hates annoying.
“So, peachy pie pumpkin poo,” I say in my sweetest—I’m so excited that we’re married, I loooovvvveeee you, my precious husband wusband—voice. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive for you? It’s late and all, and I thought you might be tired.”
A muscle in Leon’s jaw jumps. “I’m good. What’s the address?”
I give it to him and when he punches it in and studies the GPS for a second, I can tell from his tense silence that he isn’t pleased.
“You didn’t expect a cabin on a lake to be right in the middle of Seattle, did you?” I try to say that with as little snark as possible, which is still a heck of a lot of snark for the moment. “No, it’s most definitely an hour and twenty minutes north, just like what the GPS says, though we might have a hard time finding the right gravel roads to take in the dark. And boy, it looks like it’s going to be a dark night. Without the glow from the city, how will we ever find our way?” I bat my eyelashes innocently.
All I get is a growled out hmmmmmppphhhhh in response.
I realize this is a piss poor time to try and be nice about things after that production I just put on, but now I’m regretting it because I realize that Leon had most of his shades pulled down at his house, and he has those same shades in his office, blocking the windows. Maybe there’s a reason he didn’t want to go tomorrow. “If the sunlight bothers you, I could always drive.”
His hands grasp the wheel tightly as he navigates my neighborhood. This is the first time I’ve ever driven with him. He’s actually a good driver. “There isn’t going to be any daylight soon.”
“Don’t the lights bother you? It’s not like you can wear sunglasses in the dark.”
He lets out another grunt. He’s starting to sound like a full-on caveman who had already gone ahead to the cabin, scouted for a good stick, and shoved it up his arse before we even got there.Ouch. Sitting on a stick has got to hurt. I’d offer to pull it out for him, but I’m not sure how far my new marital duties extend.
I should probably be quiet and not provoke things because that’s probably just going to jam the stick up further, but I can’t help it. “Are you in pain? A lot? Is it your eyes? Do you have a sensitivity to the sun? Or an allergy?”
His hands practically strangle the poor steering wheel. “It’s nothing.”