Instead, I tell her the truth, running my hand over my beard. “You look too hot to be working the front desk.”
She looks at me blankly, grabbing a small bottle of oil from her sink counter. Behind her I see a few dozen bottles, all lined up.
“What do you mean? Too hot?”
“Well, you look gorgeous, but all the men are going to want to sleep with you, and you’ll threaten the women.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding, a smile on her face as she dabs the oil on her neck. “I see. Well, do you have a burlap sack I can borrow?”
“I’m not saying you should wear a brown sack over your head. I’m saying you look like you could be headed to a nightclub.”
She laughs at this. “I would never wear this to a nightclub. A farmers’ market, sure. But dancing? No way.”
“You aren’t taking this seriously,” I tell her lacing my boots.
“God, Boone, you’re the one who ordered me here to be your wife. And now I’m all wrong for the part?” She turns to the mirror, not looking at me.
“You’re the one who asked what I thought,” I toss my hands in the air, annoyed with her. Fuck, I should be downstairs right now, not starting another disagreement with Delta. “You know what?” I add, unable to help myself. “The truth is, my mom wore an apron and drank tea with sugar. You’re a vodka girl who doesn’t wear a bra.”
“You need to chill out,” she says, laughing. “Boone, you’re so stressed. Come here,” she says, waving me over, not at all giving into my tension.
“What? I don’t have time to fuck you.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t want to fuck you right now; just let me help with the stress.”
I do as she says—because, honestly, she’s like a goddamn magnet and all I want is to be close to her.
She reaches for a bottle, and drops oil in her hand, then adds some almond oil to her palm.
“Sit on the bed,” she directs, and I do as she says. She climbs behind me, kneeling on the mattress, and begins to massage my shoulders.
“What is this?” I ask. “Some sort of witchcraft?”
“Yes. I’m not only a vegan, but I’m a witch. I went to Hogwarts. And now I’m here, casting spells on you in the form of a shoulder massage.”
“Peppermint?” I ask.
“Close. Spearmint. It helps with men who are assholes.”
“Ha.”
“Honestly, Boone. You need to chill out. I can handle myself. I did go to school for this stuff, and as long as I’m here I can help get your season started.”
My jaw tightens reflexively. I don’t like the words she uses, words that mean she plans to leave.
“Listen, Boone,” she continues, “I may not be your mom, but I’m not here to make trouble for you.”
“I know you can handle your shit,” I tell her, feeling my emotions retreat protectively. “I mean, it’s a fucking front desk, not rocket science.”
“Gee, thanks for the compliments.” She digs her thumbs into my neck, and I let out a groan. Hell, she’s working my body hard. Yesterday, on the boat, she must have been going easy on me.
“You trying to kill me, woman?”
“I’m trying to help you loosen up.”
I close my eyes, inhaling the refreshing scent wafting around us, and it seems to dissipate some of my uneasiness about this morning.
“You’re going to be fine, Boone,” she tells me quietly. “Everyone here loves you. The greeting we got when I showed up as your wife? Everyone was clapping and cheering for you. It’s obvious they think the world of you. You aren’t doing this alone.”
She runs her thumbs down my spine, then up my back, her hands working at the base of my neck, around my jaw. I reach for her, turning my body to face her. I pull her to me, catching her off guard, kissing her softly.
“I don’t want to fuck this up,” I admit.
“Hey,” she whispers, her forehead pressed against mine. “One day at a time. Today, we’ve got this.” She smiles, shrugging as if she knows how damn cute she is. “And worst case scenario...
“Yeah what’s that?”
“Worst case scenario, it’s a disaster, and you and I run away, up to this bedroom, lock the door, and fuck until they all leave.”
“That doesn’t sound worst-case at all,” I tell her.
“Then, at the end of the day, it’s our reward. For getting through it.”
“For getting through it together.”
She looks down, as if considering my words. But when she raises her eyes with a smile, relief floods me. Maybe the massage helped, but damn, her smile melts all the worry I’ve been carrying. “Yeah, Boone,” she tells me. “Our reward for getting through it together.”