Forty Day Fiancé (Sassy in the City 3)

I just wanted a taco and a beer after a long day and the opportunity to digest the fact that Felicia was living with me, and that it had been my idea. You know, contemplate it with some long drawn-out kisses and grinding on each other. I did not want to holiday decorate. I never wanted to do that, actually. “What’s for dinner?” I asked.

She made a sound in the back of her throat. “Are you joking? It’s whatever you would be eating if I weren’t here. I told you I don’t cook. That isn’t negotiable.”

“Well, I don’t Christmas decorate.” I reached out and eased my hand over the small of her back. “I’ll order some food. Is Mexican okay?”

“Whatever you want. Why won’t you help me? We could take great photos of us decorating the tree together. Some people find that sort of thing romantic.”

“I’ll have sex with you under the tree but I’m not decorating it.”

“We can’t take photos of that.”

That made me grin. “Not ones we can share.” I bent over and picked up a bulb and put it on a random branch.

“Oh my God, not there!” she said.

I gave her a smug look. “See? You don’t even want me to decorate with you. Because you’re a control freak.”

Felicia jumped down off the stepstool and gave me a smile. “You are correct, sir. You’re going to have to learn to live with it. I was envisioning decorating together meaning I tell you where to put things and you just do it and we post it on social media.”

Fat fucking chance. That sounded really boring. “That sounds like hell to me. Is this part of your campaign to expose me to all the quirks I might not like?”

Her hair was in a ponytail and when she tilted her head to think, the ponytail swung. “Actually, no. This was me panicking when I read all the ways we can and should prove that we’re an actual couple. I decided not only do we need a cozy holiday home, we need engagement photos. So please clear your schedule for two weeks from Wednesday evening at eight. I have someone swinging round. She came highly recommended.”

I barely heard a damn word she was saying. All I could think was that she was absolutely beautiful and she was here. In my apartment. I shifted closer to her and cupped her cheeks. “I’ll be there.” Her organization, efficiency, and independence were actually hot. She might be a little neurotic and over the top, but she got the job done and I appreciated that. “You’re very gorgeous when you’re being a boss.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Boss lady. That’s me. Wait until you see the list I have for us. I’ve written a joint statement about our engagement for our social media accounts and booked us to look at six different wedding venues so it appears we’re genuinely searching for a site.”

“Just tell me where to be and what to do.” I closed in on her and kissed her, breathing in her scent. Her lips were soft beneath mine. I had exactly zero intention of going to look at six venues, but I would break that to her later. When she saw the control freak side of my personality.

Right now I just wanted to taste her. Enjoy her presence. Talk her into sex. My hands slipped down to squeeze her firm ass in her leggings.

She sighed against me, kissing me back, eagerly. Her hands went around my neck, but then she pulled back. “No. Don’t distract me.”

“I was just saying hello to my fiancée.”

“Beast. Go order your food. We can eat and go over my list.”

I shook my head but said, “Can’t wait. What do you want if I order Mexican?”

“Fish tacos.” She stepped back up on the ladder and went back to her decorating. “The list is on the island. We’ll burn it after we go through it.”

That made me laugh. “Excellent. Burn the evidence.”

I wasn’t laughing when I sat down on the sofa with her twenty minutes later, tacos on a plate in front of me, and looked at the list she had. It was daunting. “I’m really supposed to know all these things about you? What celebrity makes you want to scream? Why would I know that?”

Felicia sat next to me and dipped a pepper into the guacamole. “Harry Styles. I’m sure he’s a great guy and he has a lovely voice. But his tattoos are too random. It frightens me.”

That made me shake my head. “Okay, so now I know two things about you. You are bothered by both Harry Styles and random tattoos. Got it.”

“What celebrity bothers you?” she asked, biting her pepper.

That was easy. “Any celebrity who spouts medical advice when they have zero medical education or training.”

“That makes sense.”

“I’m glad you approve of my answer,” I said, amused. I went back to the list. “Do you think mermaids exist? Felicia, the person interviewing us for your fiancée visa is not going to ask if you believe in mermaids. I can guarantee it.”

“You can’t guarantee anything,” she said, going back to the guacamole with the second half of her pepper.