21. Willow Kingsley
Chapter twenty-one
Willow Kingsley
“I can take your bag, Mrs. Kingsley,” the bellhop says as he gestures to my tote bag.
I blink at him, processing the use of my new last name. Jason already took care of our suitcases and my dress bag, but I managed to hold on to my tote, stating that it had all my necessities. What if I needed my lip balm in the five-minute wait for the car to be brought around? He’d given me a look that said he saw right through me, but he didn’t say anything.
“It’s okay, I can carry it,” I reply with a tight smile.
It’s much too early in the morning to deal with all of this, but I couldn’t sleep in either. I tossed and turned all night, unable to handle the knowledge that my husband was in the same suite. Sure, we weren’t sharing a bed, but a room was more than enough to have my eyes wide open till morning. And when I walked out into the living room, I found that Jason was up too. He looked like he slept about as well as I did with his tousled hair and shadows under his green eyes.
“Okay, would you like anything to drink while you wait?” the bellhop asks.
I look out the glass doors. Jason is waiting outside, chatting amicably with one of the valet workers. His hands are tucked in the pockets of his gray joggers. I avert my eyes the same way I had to when I first saw him in them earlier. He’s a danger to society looking like that. I’m amazed the receptionist was able to form words when we checked out earlier. She certainly stuttered plenty. I can’t even blame her. He’s a walking advertisement for the perfect man.
“I’ll take a Diet Coke,” I say, though I know the car will be here any second now. I need caffeine if I’m going to make it to Jason’s house without accidentally drooling. Heaven knows if he caught me staring for even a second I’d never live it down.
The bellhop rushes off and then returns with an ice-cold can of Diet Coke, paired with a red bendy straw.
“Thank you,” I tell him, managing a more sincere smile.
“Of course. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you,” he says before scurrying off once more.
It’s an odd feeling to have someone wait on me hand and foot like this, though I’m not a stranger to the finer things in life. Not because I was raised with a lot of money, but because I’ve worked around millionaire athletes for some time now. You don’t hang out with them and their wives without seeing some serious cash thrown around. But it’s much different for that money to be mine now. Not that I really think it is. Jason may have said as much, but I find that hard to believe, even with him refusing a prenup. I’m sure once we get to his house he’ll have some ground rules laid out. This can’t be a no strings sort of agreement.
I sip my Diet Coke and look around the extravagant lobby. My eyes land on the large staircase, making my skin heat. That’s part of why I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept replaying the moment on the stairs over and over in my head, wondering what would have happened if he’d have kissed me. Then once I’d walked through that situation a hundred times, I thought of our kiss under the arbor. It needed to happen to make our story believable, but that didn’t mean I had to be the one to initiate it. But I did, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.
It was…unexpected. I thought I wouldn’t feel much with such a light kiss, but I was wrong. So very wrong. The brush of our lips was like watching the first leaf of autumn fall, entrancing and indicative of something more to come.
“Lo.” Jason’s voice snatches me back to the present. I turn around to face him. “Are you ready to go?” he asks, his lips drawn up at the edges.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I answer and walk toward him. I can see his car idling up ahead.
He opens both the hotel door and the car door for me. I mutter my thanks, all the while wondering if this treatment is for show or genuine. When he slides into the driver’s seat, his clean, masculine scent quickly fills the car. Of course he would smell as good as he looks.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Jason asks as he pulls away from the hotel. We’re headed to his home–what’s supposed to become our home, though I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to think of it that way. On Monday the movers will come with all my things, but I have enough packed in my suitcase to get me through tonight. Jason thought it was better to spend tonight at his place so I have more time to get accustomed to things instead of another night in the hotel suite. I’m not complaining. Hopefully his giant mansion has more space between our rooms than the suite.
“Fine,” I say as I pull my sweatshirt sleeves down over my palms.
“I may have grown up with a brother and no sisters, but I know when a woman says she’s fine that means she’s either ready to commit murder or on the verge of tears.”
I stifle a laugh. “With as many women as you’ve dated, it doesn’t shock me that you know that. I’ll spare you the wondering. All the times they said it, they were on the murder side of the spectrum.” I smile sweetly.
A laugh bursts out of him, filling the car and making it hard to contain my smile.
“I don’t doubt you. I was an idiot for a while.”
“Was?” I ask, because I can’t help myself.
“Ouch, Mrs. Kingsley. Have a little mercy on your husband.”
He takes one hand off the steering wheel and places it over his heart. I don’t notice the size of his hand. Not at all.
“All I wanted to do was check on you,” he says with laughter in his voice, but his words still poke at my heart. The heart that’s beginning to soften toward this incorrigible, flirtatious man.
“I’m okay,” I reassure him. “I’m still trying to process all of this. It feels as though I can’t find a second to think, much less breathe .”
He nods. “I understand, I’ve felt the same. You should have the rest of today though. I’ll give you a tour of the house and then leave you alone.”
I look out the window, watching the trees blur. Looking at Jason has become too much. Hearing that he’s felt the same makes me feel guilty for throwing so much at him these past few days. Between my attitude and my doubts, I haven’t given the man a second to just be . He’s probably already wishing he’d have let me get deported to Canada and bandaged his career on his own. The way he said ‘ leave you alone’ makes me think his regrets are more prominent than his flirty comments let on.
“Lo.” His deep voice finds me on the spiraling trail of my thoughts. “I know I may not be your first choice, but I am your husband. I’m here for you if you want to talk.”
“I’ve already dumped enough on you these past few days,” I voice a portion of my fears. It’s hard to know whether I can truly trust him or not, but Jason hasn’t given me a reason not to so far. I’ve already determined he’s a different man than the one who flirted then forgot me.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty strong,” he jokes, making my lips tip up involuntarily. “I can hold more than you think.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I glance over at him. “But I think for now I’d like to have some quiet. Time with my thoughts.”
“Okay, I can make that happen. We’ve got a little bit of a drive ahead of us. You just relax over there. Let me know if you need anything.”
My chest warms at his easy acceptance of my request. No pushing or arguing, just support. I shift in my seat to watch out the window again and let my mind wander once more.
To say that my prediction about Jason’s house was wrong would be a severe understatement. Everything I imagined was so unbelievably off. The modern mansion I’d thought we’d be approaching has been replaced by a cream farmhouse with warm wood accents. The cozy abode is situated at the end of a long, winding drive lined with beautiful tall oak and pine trees.
Behind the house is a stable, which Jason says houses his horses. It took all my effort to keep my jaw from dropping. This is my dream home. I haven’t even been inside yet and I’m already in love.
“If you’re up for it later, I’ll take you on a tour of the whole property. But I’m sure you want some time to yourself, and I need a nap,” Jason says as he carries our bags up the front porch steps.
There are a few padded rocking chairs out front, but no porch swing. That may be the only thing I’d change so far. Everything else is gorgeous. And though I said I was looking forward to being alone, I’d be ready for a tour right this second if he was.
“If you’re tired, you can just show me my room and do the tour later,” I tell him.
“Look at you being sweet. Has getting married made you soft?” he asks.
I shove his shoulder as I walk in through the front door. “The only thing getting married has changed about me is my last name.”
Lies . I am a liar. Over the past few days so much has changed in regards to my feelings toward him, and yesterday only jumbled them up more. Now I know what his hand on my thigh feels like, his breath on my neck, and his lips on mine. There’s no going back from that.
“Good, I like you just the way you are.” The sincerity in his tone would have more of an effect on me if not for the beauty of his home distracting me.
The inside is just as gorgeous, if not more so, than the exterior. It’s somehow the perfect blend of light and cozy. The color palette is a mix of sage green, cream, and wood tones. The living room couch looks like a fluffy beige cloud, piled with soft flannel blankets and throw pillows of various sizes. A large TV hangs on the wall, but beneath it is an entertainment center that looks like some kind of antique cabinet.
From where we’re standing in the entrance, you can see both the living room and the state-of-the-art kitchen with its butcher block counters and white cabinets. Beyond that is a dining area with a long wood table flanked by matching wood benches. And even further are glass French doors letting in the afternoon sun.
“It’s gorgeous,” I murmur.
“Thank you,” Jason says, a hint of pride in his voice. “I helped design everything, but I can’t take all the credit. I hired some great people. If I’d done it on my own, I’m sure it would look more like the bachelor pad you imagined,” he says with a wry smile.
“It’s not what I expected, and I’m happy to be wrong,” I say.
His smile grows. “Let me show you to your room first to set down your bags. You can see that this is the living room and the kitchen is over there.” He dips his head in the direction of it. “Feel free to stock the fridge and pantry with whatever you like. I’m not super picky. I am allergic to peanuts though, so if you could keep any peanut butter or things like that in a separate cabinet I’d appreciate it.”
I frown as I follow him down the hallway. He never mentioned that before. What if I would have accidentally poisoned him? What if he eats some? Does he have an epipen? Do I need to know how to use it? I’m about to voice my questions when he pushes open a door. Behind it is a large room with shining hardwood floors, a king-sized bed with a duvet that looks like it belongs in the hotel we just left, and a door leading to a shiny marble bathroom.
“Here’s your room. It has an attached bathroom, but if you like the master suite better I’m happy to move. A bed is a bed to me.” He sets my bags on the floor, then scratches the back of his neck. “One thing I forgot to mention though is that you’ll have to keep most of your stuff in my room. When the documentary comes here, I don’t want it to look like we sleep in separate rooms.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but that’s a good point. I guess I’ll just keep my clothes in your closet? And have any other personal stuff put away so they don’t see it.”
He nods. “That would be great. Once they’re done filming, you can make your room all yours. I’m sorry you can’t do that right away. I want you to feel at home.”
Little does he know I wouldn’t change much of anything. Maybe add a few more colors into the mix, a coffee table book or two. But this place feels snatched right off my dream home Pinterest board.
“It’s okay. I don’t want to raise any suspicions.”
“Thank you,” he says, his green eyes warm like a patch of grass beneath the summer sun. “Now, there’s not much more to the inside of the house. My room is across the hall, and there’s another guest bedroom next to this one. A hall bath is on the other side of the house near the laundry room and garage door.”
“Okay, good to know.” I try to commit what he’s saying to memory, though I’m sure I’m going to accidentally open the wrong door once or twice as I get used to things.
“Sorry, I should just show you around,” he says with a laugh, but I can hear how tired he is in his voice.
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it. We should both get some rest. You can show me later, or I’ll just blame you if I can’t find something.”
The right side of his mouth hitches up in a boyish grin. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll be right across the hall if you need anything.”
I nod, my heart skipping a beat. I guess we won’t be as far apart as I’d thought.