First comes love.
Then comes marriage.
Then comes a-
Unfortunately, life is not a checklist, and there's no white picket fences and baby carriages. After a failed long and stable relationship, Arryn Rivera tries her hand at online dating and gets mo...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Four days after Thanksgiving, Rhys rolled over to find the bed empty just as he did every morning. Arryn always got up early and went through her usual routine. Threw up, cooked breakfast, and made his lunch. He felt terrible about not keeping his promise of making a baby name list, even though he still had plenty of time. She'd not mentioned it again, but from her body language, no doubt she was pissed. Only a few weeks into the marriage, there was already trouble, and he needed to shoulder the blame for it due to his lack of communication.
But again, what did he expect? The way things started for them didn't exactly pave a road to happily-ever-after. He kept telling himself to get over it, but he wasn't ready to forgive her yet.
Thoughts buzzing, and now fully awake, he grabbed a quick shower and dressed for the day. The already familiar aroma of homemade biscuits drifted down the hall. Damn, she could cook. He'd give her that. He quirked a smile and wondered what shape she'd cut the dough into. Turkeys? Leaves? No telling.
He strolled into the kitchen. "Don't forget, we have the company party this week."
She kept her eyes on the task before her. "Friday night, right?"
"Yeah...." Trying to keep a conversation with her without sounding like a bonehead was harder than he ever anticipated. "You need money for a new dress?"
"No, but thanks."
He snatched a pumpkin-shaped biscuit and stared at it. "This is orange."
"It's just food coloring. It'll taste the same."
"Shit!"
She spared him a glance. "Fine. I won't change them anymore."
He wagged his head. "Not the biscuit. This." He pointed to a button dangling from his shirt. "I've got to change."
She flapped her arm in the air, dismissing the notion. "No need for that. I'll get the sewing kit."
A minute later she returned and pointed to a barstool. "Sit down. You don't even have to take it off."
His heart rate kicked up a notch when she ran the thread across her tongue, then guided it through the needle's eye. Standing between his legs, she slipped one hand inside his shirt, fingers gently touching his chest. With the other, she began to sew, working the sharp point in one hole then the other. He took a deep breath.
She locked eyes with him. "Don't be a baby. I won't stick you."
God, if she only knew how much he wanted to stick her at the moment. What was wrong with him? How could he be so mad and be affected by her all at the same time? "I know you won't."
She was so close, he could feel the heat coming off her skin. Smell the fragrance from her shampoo. Two inches closer, his lips would be pressed against hers. Just as he leaned in a bit, she worked the button into its hole, then patted his chest.
