Chapter 31
Lauralee
The diamond catches the light, sending tiny rainbow caustics scattering across the walls of my bedroom. I only get to wear my rings when I’m alone, so I put them on as soon as I walk in the door.
Admiring the pretty on my finger, I don’t know how metal and stone manage to make me feel closer to Baylor, but they do. That’s the upside to wearing them every day in private, but what about outside the house? Do I dare? I can’t. Not yet.
The secret remains hidden from the outside world, but we need to decide when to go public. Something to add to the growing list of things to discuss while he’s visiting.
Visiting . . . I hate that his stays are only temporary.
I won’t pressure him to choose me or Peachtree Pass, but I still hold out hope that he will during this transition.
Though I have no right since his work is in the city and I’m sure he has job offers piling up because he’s so successful and now a free agent.
Call me selfish, I suppose, for wanting him living here instead of only visiting me.
Maybe this transition in his career can lead back to me.
A gi rl can dream.
I check the time before rushing to the bathroom to touch up my makeup, brush my teeth, and try to unknot my hair before he arrives. It’s tempting to pour a glass of wine to calm my nervous energy. It’s only been five days since I’ve seen him, but my excitement has me ready to burst.
I’m not sure if I want to kiss him, seduce him, or cuddle. All of it and more, like feed him. The urge I have inside to take care of this man is off the charts. And it seemed to hit out of nowhere. But my gut tells me it started the moment he said I do. I was done for—heart and soul—wild about him.
A knock has me running to the door. As soon as I pull it open, I’m captured in his arms, my lips pressed to his, and he kicks the door closed. Before I know it, we’re moving toward the bedroom. Guess the decision has been made.
He drops me on the bed, his gaze traveling from mine to my chest, and then lower as he unbuttons his shirt. I lie there grinning up at him. Letting my gaze dip to his midsection, I meet his eyes again, and ask, “Happy to see me, stud?”
“You could say that.” Tugging his jeans down, he asks, “Are you going to get undressed, or want me to do it?”
“I was hoping—” Another knock on the door startles me upright.
Baylor pulls his jeans back up, buttoning the top when he whispers, “Who is that?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, moving to the bedroom doorway. “Hello?”
“Honey, it’s me, Mom.”
My mouth drops open as I turn back to him. He scrambles to scoop up his clothes as I wave him to hide in the bathroom. “Be right there, Mom.” I look back at him, and silently plead, “Please tell me you locked the door. ”
“Nope.” He hustles into the bathroom as I move to answer my mom.
Running my hands over my cheeks, I clear any flyaways, then pull the door open. “Hi, what brings you by?”
She looks so happy to see me standing on the patio that I feel bad for not offering to let her in.
“I was heading over to Margaret’s and decided to bring by the mail that collected at the house while you were gone in Austin.
” She hands me the stack, and then asks, “Not letting me in? I was hoping to use the bathroom.”
I keep the door solid in my hand, not budging a millimeter. “Oh gosh,” I start, my mind going blank. And then the worst idea naturally comes to mind. “My stomach was really upset when I got in from work. You don’t want to go in there.”
“Oh no.” Her head tilts as her eyebrows peak in despair. “I can make you some soup if you’d like. It will just take me a quick trip to the grocery store.”
I laugh. “Nothing is quick out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“True, but I’m happy to do it for you.” She peers over my shoulder, and for a brief second in time, I imagine she sees Baylor.
I shift my weight to the other foot to block her view. When her eyes return to me, I say, “No. No. It’s fine. I feel better already.”
Raising the back of her hand to my forehead, she says, “You’re a little warm and your cheeks are flushed.” If she only knew why. “Keep an eye on your temperature and call me if you need anything.”
Throwing an arm wide, I squeak, “Good as new, and you know I will.” That’s not obvious. I’m the worst actress ever. I rest my cheek against the edge of the door and smile for her, thoug h it comes naturally. “Thank you. And there’s always the bathroom downstairs in the shop.”
“Yes. I’ll stop in before I leave.” Just when I think it’s all settled, she sighs softly, and lowers her voice. “If you ever want to talk to me, I’m always here for you.”
Not sure where this came from, but I feel exposed under her gentle gaze, like she can see right through me. I give her a hug. “I know, Mom.” When I step back inside, I say, “Thanks for bringing the mail, too. Saved me a trip.”
“Seems you’re living here now when it’s not rented out, and it was on the way.” She starts down the stairs and adds, “Love you.”
“Love you.” I close the door and lock it behind me, inhaling deep relief into my lungs. Exhaling, I call out, “Coast is clear.”
Baylor comes out of the bathroom not disappointing me one bit that his shirt never seemed to make it on over his muscular torso.
I want to lick those abs and bite his shoulder.
Is that normal? Probably not, but I don’t care.
He makes me want to do all kinds of things I never saw myself doing, like secretly getting married.
Though I always throw the caveat of the loan in there to make excuses to myself.
Deep down, it may have been the driving force, but my “I do” was for me.
Walking over to the peninsula, I drop the mail on the counter. “We need to figure out what we’re doing when it comes to others knowing about us.”
Suddenly looking sheepish, he says, “I do need to confess something.”
“Do I need to sit down for this?”
“I hope not. I told someone about our secret.”
I grip the counter for support. “Our secret that we’re married?”
Baylor comes to me, taking me by the waist and swaying me back and forth. So innocent, but I know his game is to butter me up. “He knew. I could have lied, but I think he’ll keep the secret. He promised me he would.”
“Who’s he?” I point my finger at him and poke him in the chest. “If you tell me Tagger?—”
“Beckett.”
“Beckett?” I lower my hand, hooking my finger into his belt loop. “What do you mean, he knew?”
His shoulders hang high before he drops them back into place. “I don’t know. The kid saw right through me with his super senses. He asked me point blank on the plane this morning. I could have lied, but I really think he already knew.”
My heart kind of melts. I love Beckett and his intuition. It makes me wonder what he saw in Baylor that tipped him off. I might never know the answer to that, so I ask, “What did he say when you told him?”
“He said he was happy that we’re happy together.”
“That’s so sweet.” I huff and then hug him. “It’s hard to be mad about that. I just hope he keeps the secret until we’re ready to share.”
“Which is?”
I giggle under his ticklish kisses. “Something else we need to talk about before you leave again.”
His spine straightens, and he grins. “Hold that thought. I need to get something from the car. I think it’s going to make you very happy. I pray to fuck it does.”
“I’m conflicted on the praying to fuck. Is that a good thing?”
Walking to the door, he says, “Yes. It’s a good thing. I’ll be right back. I have something for you. ”
I lean against the counter and watch him head out. “I love presents. Hey, you going shirtless?”
“I’m giving anyone spying on us a show.”
He’s ridiculous. His heavy steps rattle the staircase outside as he rushes down to the parking lot.
I turn to the mail to sort through it, but stop on the third letter.
“Way to ruin my day.” The property management company’s return address is bolded in the corner and the envelope is stamped with the word reminder, as if I needed one. It’s what I worry about most of my day.
I rip it and open the letter inside just to further irritate myself.
Scanning over it, it’s the same thing I already knew.
Decision due. Ludicrous rent increase. Sign here.
The same as all the emails that Josten guy has sent.
Though admittedly, I haven’t received one this week, which is odd, considering how frequently he was emailing prior.
Does he really think I’m going to just sign this?
He’s a fool. This isn’t even the full agreement.
I’m sure some buried clauses won’t benefit me in there, and he just wants me to sign my rights away without a care.
I scowl when I see his signature and the management company bolded under his name again.
But then I catch a phrase I overlooked the first time. Representing Greene Ventures.
The print under it is small, but it’s legible. I wrap my arm around my waist and take a deep breath as I study it closer.
Greene Ventures.
Everything from the county to the family to my new last name is spelled the same. I’m used to seeing and hearing it all the time in Peachtree Pass, but that’s an odd coincidence.
New York, New York.
There are millions of companies in that city. It’s huge. This doesn’t confirm anything. It also doesn’t de ny it.
The phone number listed.
I can’t excuse that away when I know it by heart. Baylor. Why would Baylor’s number be listed as the contact number? Unless it is.
Dropping the paper on the counter, I jump when Baylor returns. “I have two surprises . . .” he says, but I don’t hear the rest.
My gaze lowers to the letter again. Does he own . . .? No. He wouldn’t do that. Why would he trick me into marrying him? That makes no sense. It was my plan. He was just going along with it.
“Shortcake?” My gaze lifts, and I turn around with my hands gripping the edge of the counter. He says, “I have something for you.”
My gaze travels to the manila envelope he’s holding up, but my mind is still on the letter behind me. Shooting him a glare, I stand tall, and ask, “Do you own this shopping center?”