I have trained my good boy to wait for me patiently at the back gate, and when I catch up to him I open the gate, and give him the command, “Go find Daddy.” He takes off like a bullet, checking the garage for Colin’s cars, and then once he confirms that Colin’s still home, I let him in the house. He runs from room to room looking for him, and when he finds him, he barks like crazy until I give him a head pat. I also might be a tad obnoxious over the dog.
I stop by the kitchen when we enter the house. Pancho starts his searching routine while I grab a bowl for cereal. I pour the bran flakes into a bowl and get the milk out of the refrigerator. Opening the container, the smell of the milk makes me gag. Great! The damn milk is bad. I quickly close the lid, and place it in a plastic garbage bag and take it to our outside trash bin.
I pick up my pathetic bowl of dried cereal and pick at the flakes until Pancho barks. It sounds like Colin is in the master bathroom. I remind myself that I have to walk the red carpet in two days and toss out my cereal. I’ll starve myself for the next forty-eight hours. Maybe then my boobs will deflate.
Pancho found Colin right in the nick of time. I turn the corner and walk into the bathroom glimpsing my naked, gorgeous, husband stepping out of the shower. Leaning against the doorjamb, I take a moment to drink in the sight. Water droplets cling to his muscular back, chest, and arms, making me jealous. He puts his leg up on the side of the tub and runs a towel over his finely sculpted legs. I note that both legs now seem to be the same width. For a while after the “break seen around the world” his right calf muscle and thigh had noticeably atrophied.
He doesn’t realize I’m behind him, watching. Pancho lets out another yelp as if to tell him to turn around. Colin misinterprets it and says to him as he scratches his ears, “Don’t worry, boy. She’ll be in here in a second.”
Colin brings the towel up, and moves it back and forth over his dark-blonde hair, making his curls a tussled mess. When he’s done, he hangs up the towel and does his signature dog-shake move. Him and Pancho—no matter how dry they get, they both still have to wiggle their bodies, as if to release the last bit of water droplets hanging on for dear life.
I stroll in the bathroom and Colin, sensing my presence, looks at me with those piercing green eyes. They skim over me, head to toe, and make me smile. “Like what you see?”
“Like it much better when it’s naked, wet, and underneath me,” he says flashing me his sexy half-smile.
I shake my head and giggle. “What am I going to do with you?” I head for my closet to strip off my sweaty running gear.
He follows behind me. “I’ve got ten minutes before I have to leave,” he says suggestively wiggling his eyebrows.
He watches me with his mischievous half-smile plastered on his face as I remove my sweat-drenched sports bra. “I’ve got my appointment with Doctor Starr today, and I don’t want to smell like fuck-musk, so the answer is no. You can have your wicked way with me tonight.”
He crosses his arms over his sculpted pecs and says, “Fine. Don’t forget, you’re coming by the office today for the cologne meeting.”
I bat my eyelashes. “How could I?” Colin just signed a new deal with the cologne company to release another scent this year. A group from the company is in town today to let Colin sample the new scents, and talk about packaging. He wants my opinion on the fragrances. I’ve told him that I don’t think that I’ll be much help. In reality, I’m not a big fan of cologne. Even though Colin has a signature scent, he rarely wears it. But he asked me to join the meeting, so I plan on being there.
“Maybe after the meeting we can look at some of the 3D renderings the architectural firm did on the Lake Somerville property,” Colin says as he walks out of my closet.
I turn and watch his naked behind sway suggestively from side to side. Maybe a quickie?
“How do they look?” I ask distracting myself from the rather hot mental-image of him taking me against the bathroom counter.
He has the vision to turn the densely wooded property surrounding the small tributary lake into a dream vacation compound for us. I’m not seeing it yet.
“They did four drawings for us. Two I think we can easily eliminate. The other two have some great ideas. Maybe we can mix and match,” he calls from the depths of his closet. Then, without missing a beat, “Feeling any better?”
I walk through to the bathroom and turn on the shower. “Not really. I just don’t have any energy. I constantly feel queasy and achy.”
As I’m stepping in the shower, he approaches the glass with a very serious look on his face. “Could you be pregnant?” he asks so quietly that I can barely hear him over the running water.