Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(58)

I blinked at her. “Then why’d you say you weren’t monogamous?”

“Uh, Ms. Caravel-Tyson—”

“A minute.” I held up my finger again to Mr. Lee, never taking my eyes from Kat. “You were saying?”

“I’ve only had one-night stands. I’ve never been with the same person twice.”

“What? Never?” I found that shocking as hell, because if I’d been one of those guys, I would’ve moved heaven and earth to make sure there was a second time. And a third, and a fourth, and a—you get the picture.

“No.” She shook her head. “Never. But that doesn’t mean I’m against monogamy.”

“You’re not against monogamy?”

“Shh!” She glanced over her shoulder, giving Mr. Lee and Steven an apologetic smile. She stepped even closer to me, again whispering, “It just hasn’t come up with anyone.”

“‘It hasn’t come up with anyone,’ she says.” I threw my hands in the air, giving my eyes to the ceiling and turning away. “I guess I don’t count,” I muttered, shrugging to myself.

“Can we just—” She followed me, tugging on my sleeve, but didn’t seem to know how to finish her sentence.

This was unbelievable.

Unbelievable.

UnFUCKINGbelievable.

Not polyamorous.

“If you want to change your mind about this, because of my past, I completely understand—”

I turned to face her. “No. I don’t give a flying fuck about your past. I thought—in Vegas, when you said—because my Aunt Becks, she’s—I thought you meant you weren’t—you didn’t want—” Shit. I couldn’t even speak. Nothing made sense.

She started, frustration evaporating from her features, replaced with dawning surprise. Meanwhile, here I was, caught in the startled, unblinking depths of her eyes.

“I don’t understand . . .” The words tumbled from her lips, like she’d spoken without thinking. Her breathing had ticked up, her mouth was open, and her stare was unfocused.

Approaching movement caught my attention. Steven was strolling toward us, a huge smile on his face. “Hey kids. How ya doing? Turns out Mr. Lee needs to go pick up his grandkids so his daughter and her husband can go out to dinner. It’s their sixteenth wedding anniversary. They’ve had some hard times, but things are good now between them—his daughter and son-in-law—so he doesn’t want to be late. You understand.”

Steven reached for Kat’s hand and pulled her back to the front of the room. I watched them for a stunned second. She glanced back at me, her gaze a mess of confusion and something else, something that had my feet moving to catch up.

“Thank you.” Mr. Lee turned a grateful smile on Steven.

My coworker winked at him, reclaiming his spot to the left of the podium and pulled out his phone. “Okay. Wedding time,” he said, lifting his cell. “Smile for the camera.”

I didn’t smile.

This changed everything.

Right?

No.

No, you asshole. For you it changes everything. But for her? Big question mark.

In a disconnected stupor, I stood next to her while Mr. Lee talked at us. Steven filmed the whole thing. At one point, we faced each other. Kat looked completely bewildered. She also looked goddamn gorgeous. Her beauty struck out at me, and it felt like an assault. Also an assault, the openness and vulnerability in her eyes. Looking like this, her eyes were hooks, digging deep, made breathing and thinking at the same time impossible.

When my moment came, I repeated the words I was supposed to repeat and put a ring on her finger. She did the same with me. Then the words stopped and we were staring at each other.

Someone said, “You two should kiss.”

It sounded like Steven.

I wasn’t sure.

But I didn’t care who it was, and I definitely didn’t need to be told twice.

Her brown eyes dropped to my mouth, growing hazy. She swayed forward. I didn’t sway. I advanced on her, moving into her space and putting a finger underneath her chin, not because I needed to—she was already offering me her mouth—but I did it because I wanted to touch her and that seemed like the safest place.

The truth was, if I touched her anywhere else, this was not going to be a Clerk’s-office-appropriate kiss for very long.

Lifting her straining mouth to mine, I brushed my lips against hers, and—oh man—I wanted this moment to last. I wanted it to last forever.

Mostly forgetting that we had an old guy on the sidelines, I pressed our mouths together, telling myself to memorize the feel of her. She was so warm, and soft, and sweet. She reached for me. I felt her fingers twist and grab the front of my suit jacket. It was probably going to wrinkle. I couldn’t fucking care less.